I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.

je m’en fou..I don't give a fuck

Salope! bitch

The fecundity of our lives that mingled and responded with the other via positiva. The concrete foundation of understanding that I can breath freely with the comfort of honesty and effort. We are moral in an amoral world. I couldn't see the flood waters rising, warming me in to a false comfort.By the time the water reached it's point of crisis, it contaminated my lungs. I am still unsullied in thinking that you'll reach in and pull me out. Thanks for what I had and this casuality. Losing myself in to the absrtact nothing of via negativa.

All I wanted to do was entrust my body to the Maestro who would play it like no other, stroking it to unimaginable cresendos, plucking chords no man had ever sounded before, or would ever match again.

I couldn't move. It's still something I'm ashamed of. You always wonder how you'll handle a moment of crisis; if you've just been deluding yourself all along that somewhere deep inside you there's steel beneath the magnolia. Now I knew the truth. There wasn't I was all petals and pollen. Good for attracting the procreators who could ensure the survival of our species, but not a survivor myself. I was Barbie after all. I barely managed to choke out a squeek when he reached for me. Rape isn't something you walk away from. You crawl.


Sleepless again
And I think of you.
I wonder,
am I as forgotten as I seem to be?
My head is splitting,
and my feet are sore,
and my being in my skin just doesn't feel right.
Another wound is just what I need.
Silly girl you got yourself in this mess.
Face it you are a masochist.
Try to focus on something that will genuinely bring you joy.
Seems so hard when even the truth can be a decoy.
For there is nothing in life that I can recall that is concrete.
Nothing at all.
Why do we crave what will always turn us blue, drive us mad?
What should I do?
Try to meet grief with a fake smile?
Even the best drugs can’t disguise the anguish deep in my eyes.
Maybe I should try to hit the bed,
And silence the demons that I have let loose.
Things begin to appear that I believe to be non existent.
Thoughts no normal person should endure slowly creep into my brain.
I can't sleep.
So I creep.
My body is withering,
still in the awake.
Clock ticking,
as the numbers laugh in my face,
Sunset was five hours ago.
Sunrise will be in five.
I live in fear of fear
In things I do not yet know.
I live in fear of dreadful shock
This is a secret I've yet unlocked.
All I can do now
is do nothing at all.
Except wait for a ray of hope,
for a new dawn from rising.
Waiting to see if ever
This sleepless night will be over.
The sun is lighting a match
setting the sky ablaze.
I desire sleep.
Let it devour me.


I've learned that you can discover just as much from what people don't say to you, as what they do. It's not enough to listen to their words. You have to mine their silences for buried ore. It's often only in the lies we refuse to speak that any truth can be heard at all.

Necessary lies. I understand them now.

We expect evil to announce itself.

You can continue on your blinded way.
Don't get irate at the truth.

You grow up thinking everything makes sense. It doesn't matter that you don't understand the laws that govern the universe. You know somewhere out there some geeky scientist does, and there's a degree of comfort in that.

Comfort zones. People like to find them and stay in them. a comfort zone can be a mental state. Beliefe in God is a lot of people's comfort zone. I'm not nocking faith; I just don't think you should have it because you feel safe. I thikn you should have it because you do. Because, somewhere deep inside you, you know beyond equivocating that something greater, wiser, and infinitely more loving than we're capable of understanding has a vested interest in the universe, in the way things turn out. Because you can feel that, as much as the forces of darkness might try to gain the upper hand, there is an Upper Hand.
That's my comfort zone.
You want to know somebody? I mean really know somebody? Take away their comfort zone and see what happens.

My family have some funny sayings. They were born in a different time, to a different generation. Theirs was the "hard work is its own reward" generation. Admittedly it had its problems, but mine is the "entitlement generation" and it has its fair share, too.
The EG is made up of kids who believe they deserve the best of everything by mere virtue of having been born, and if parents don't arm them with every possible advantage, they are condeming their own children to a life of ostracism and failure. Raised by computer games, satellite TV, the Internet, and the latest greatest electronic device-while their parents are off slaving away trying to afford them all- most of the EG believe if their's something wrong with them, it's not their fault, their parents screwed them up, probably by being away too much. It's a vicious little catch-22 for the parents any way you look at it.
Omission or commission- the end result is still the same.

Before I moved here, I can't put it in words. But it felt something like this: I used to walk on my feet. Now all I know how to do is crawl. And I'm not sure how long it is going to take for me to get up off my knees and regain my balance, but I suspect that when I do, I will never walk the same way again.

Don't accuse me of being morbid when I'm merely the product of a culture that buries the bones of the ones they love in pretty, manicured flower gardens so they can keep them nearby and go talk to them whenever they feel troubled or depresses. That's morbid. Not to mention bizarre. Dogs burry bones, too.

Life is rarely so convenient. I say we've all seen too many movies.

Lose the Pessimism. It's a selffulfilling prophecy. Expect to die, and you will. The power of thought is far greater than most people ever realize.

Sometimes, one must break with one's past to embrace one's future. It is never an easy thing to do. It is one of the distinguishing characteristics between survivors and victims. Letting go of what was, to survive what is.

Swine flu predictons for this year: 2009 1.8 million people hospitalized and up to 90,000 deaths. First Newberry. Then the world.


Stop pining for the woman you think I could be, and take a good, long, hard look at the one I am.