Demo

It's not often that washing my face at the end of a day provokes the disturbing urge in me to drown myself in my own bathroom sink... But today was something like that.

Since I was single for so long, and hurt so badly to arrive at that point, I really forgot how to cry. I spent my time alone, brooding, stretching the "me" muscle. Concentrating on myself and doing exactly what I wanted to do. That was a first step for me. I've never lacked someone to mold myself around until those few weeks. I took 2am walks because I had the freedom to, and I liked it. Life shat on me like never before, and to save myself, I spent my time by myself. I rekindled friendships and donned the first selfish garb I've ever worn.

In me is the genetics of an independent woman, mostly thanks to my mother, so getting back in this 'swing' of taking care of someone I really, quite frankly, would do anything for is a challenge.

... I've found myself slightly off topic in comparison to what this post was originally about. I've, again, gone from some topic back to that cutie Eric... Only the first topic was day-end suicide.

Onward.

Today was the first time I cried in a long while. It was some sick mesh of my grandmother being in the hospital, Ronnie NEVER appreciating anything I do, my homework getting way backed up, and my new roommate being a terrible player at life (the real thing, not the board game).

I was just washing my face when it crippled me. When I just stared at the toothpaste stains leading into the drain and fought the urge to breathe water. Or when I stared at my medicine cabinet and concocted in my head a handful of pill-candies that would do the trick.

Fuck. Something's wrong with me...

I'm feeling lucky.

I'd like to take this time to celebrate 100 posts! That's exactly 100 internet-bound headed rantings only a heartbeat from my lips. One full hundred wordy paragraphs knee-deep in emotions or motivations. I'd also like to thank the academy.

Moving on. I'm feeling lucky. Not just because I promised Eric that that phrase would be the title of my next blog post, but because it's absurdly true. I'm sure we've all closed our eyes and lived in our own mind's truths when things get rough, but there's a huge difference between when I used to do that and what's going on now.

Oh, I still close my eyes once in a while, purely out of habit. The difference now is that I'll close my eyes and escape to my fantasies, and when I open them again... I'm there. I've got an amazing man on my arm (can't emphasize that enough), a job where I feel motivated and involved, possibilities seeping from my pores, and happiness to spare. My mood is steadily uplifting as I feel more and more connected to my life and the world around me.

I know what I want to do, and I know where to start to do it. I want to begin learning to dance, so I've been studying moves and getting fit. I want to learn japanese, so I've found Rosetta Stone and a few friends to learn with me. I want to be successful in school, so I'm applying myself in lots of different aspects.

I'm feeling lucky because I can do these things. I'm feeling lucky because I know I have the willpower to go places. And I'm feeling lucky because he's gorgeous, witty, charming, smart... And perfect. :)

Seven Eleven

Intricately woven man-made fibers are dusted with what remains of a night, and some of a day, of taking it slow. The scent he doesn't know he has is left on my silk pillowcases as I retrace the last day's bliss. Hours of talking nonsense and piles of sent and received kisses stack up to give me an amazing view of what I have and what I've done to get it. And shit, do I feel lucky.

I can't say I'm fulfilled just yet. I mean, there's definitely some magic working its way into the relationship, but we've still got all the details to hammer out. But what I think the best part is: We've got lots of time to work on those details. :D

"Your brand new lover's not like other guys. He's the one that turns you on but God knows why... Your brand new lover's not like other guys. He's not ordinary but could you tell me why?"

:)

All in the rush of a blind moment, 5 years melted from my experience and the nervous child in me was set on vibrate. A moment's thought parted my sea of confidence and let his soldiers in to batter my defenses. I suppose it was hopeless to think I could tackle something I was so intimidated by.

That's the thing that puzzles me, though. I've taken on SO much in my time here. Before DeVry, I could hardly approach the cashier at a shop without losing my cool. Since then, I've pushed my way to the top of a lot of chains without fear or loose nerves. I've been at knifepoint shaking less than I did in his grasp.

I can't explain it. I can find excuses, sure. I'm out of practice. I'm too worried about impressing him. Blah bah blah...

What matters isn't that I'm a wreck in his arms, or that I'm worrying about EVERY little detail in his presence. No, none of that is important...

What matters is... I think the world of him. And he knows it.


"Not a bad day. "

Last modified Sunday, November 16, 2003

Cleaning off my old computer, I found a time capsule of sorts. In it, writings from my past. I'll share a few here...

Waiting...
What is it I'm waiting for?
Just a simple hello...
Maybe a warm smile,
Before its my time to go...

I stare at grey letters,
Hoping they'll change,
That you'll breathe in these words,
And help my life rearange.

I'm still waiting for something,
Still waiting, but what for?
Aquaint myself with lonliness
Accept my title, whore.

I've lived through death,
I've died once in life,
I'm waiting once again,
For my wrists to meet the knife.

Words hold the most power,
Although they can lie.
These words form an appointment;
I've been waiting to die.


Another short writing to the song Field of Innocence by Evanescence.
The wind picked up and blew an icy breeze that rustled her hair. Her stride remained angry but calm and the gentle crunch of snow under her boots was the only sound in the streets. As she stepped onto the sidewals, another draft blew open the side of her long coat, which she quickly corrected by zipping it.
The inside of the building was warm and made her face flush with pink. She approached the young woman behind the counter and was presented with a smile and a room key. The smile, however, was not returned and she took a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs provided for the public in the lobby area.
Minutes after sitting, she check the time on the digital clock on a nearby wall and stood, making her way across the marble floor and towards one of the bustling elevators. The reflective metal doors parted and floods of people streamed out. After the rush, she made her way into the moving box and pressed the switch that would take her to the 10th floor.
The large, thick doors opened once again and her boot squeaked as she rounded the corner to the burgundy and beige hallway. Crimson and tan complimented the yellowish lighting and warmed the hall's blank texture.
She slowed to a stop in front of a door, room number; 1031. Removing the key from the pocket of her trenchcoat, she stepped into the cool-colored room and closed the door behind her. The room was sullen and filled with grey shadows for the only light source was from the open sliding glass doors leading to the balcony, where a gentle snowfall was collecting on the carpeting.
She made her way over to the door and stepped outside, leaning over onto the balcony railing and glaring into the pure whiteness of the city. Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned her head to see what was moving. His figure was towering and the black he was dressed in, intimidating. The two moved closer and connected with a kiss. Both in each others arms, a breeze sent snowflakes swirling around them.
Only minutes passed before she broke the kiss and reached inside her coat, removing a gun. She placed it in his hands and gently pushed him away, whispering unknown words to him and taking a few steps back. He soon dissapeared back into the room as she resumed her spot on the balcony railing.
The day seemed so, blank, so drained of color, not to mention cold. Some of the taller buildings matched themselves with the days' recent snowfall, clean and white, but somehow gloomy and dark. And the echo of a voice had a heavenly ring to it, like that of a lone angel.

In his hand, the gun, as he reappeared on the balcony once again.