Wounds

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Funny the things that come to mind when big changes are about to happen. Like moving from somewhere familiar to somewhere not so familar. Suddenly walking down the “same ol street” is filled with bittersweet memories of times shared in that space with someone long gone. The laughter still echoes around each corner, the tears barely dry from a hurt spoken on that very sidewalk, the kisses goodbye at that very bus stop…

I don’t often wish to go back in time. Not really. I may have a sentimental remembering… or be nostalgic for a time sweetened by the rapture of love… or want a do-over for the ‘one that got away’ – sigh – but I rarely ever truly want to go back. However, today is a rare day and I’m finding myself wanting so much to go back to just one year ago and rewrite the script that flipped my life.

I miss her in a deeply private place and I can not mourn her anywhere other then there…or here.

I live each day with as much enthusiasm, joy and laughter I can muster. It’s not always easy. I smile from a place filled with resignation. I make love steeped in silent wishes and then sleep with fleeting glimpses of hazel eyes and soft yielding lips…

My life is not bad, it’s actually quite good. I am no longer breaking to the point of broken. I don’t cry as much which means the heartache is lifting and I don’t drink now to cover the pain. I still miss what once was with every fibre of my being, but I am…coping.  Funny word “coping”. Filled with a multitude of interpretation; each personal and inexplicable. I learned to pick up my pieces and hastily glue them back together before the bell rings for round two a long, long time ago, but I have yet to teach my heart how to let go of desired love.

I still wake with her and walk with her in my dreams. I have no shame over this or guilt. I am who I am and I love how I do. It’s an honest love with no strings or expectations. It just is. And I can not change that about myself. Nor do I want to. My heart is who I am.

My love for her was the best thing for me. I wish it had been the best thing for her.

Feeling my wounds today.

Nanowrimo

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

There is no question in my mind about being blocked right now.

I can’t write.

I can’t create.

I can’t commit.

I can’t eat well.

I can’t move.

I am stuck…

I’m not sure if it’s because I am concerned about how specific others will construe what I write…if I will offend, hurt or damage already fragile relationships. I sincerely do wish now that this blog had never been shared or discovered by those closest to my heart because now I can’t write with the voice that needs most to express itself. The fact that I am still wrapped up emotionally with one woman while trying desperately to make a new life with another is only the beginning of the reasons for my angst ridden state. There is so much more to me and my eccentricities then the neurotic, self-gratifying, impatient, seeking-perfection and oh-so-NOT-perfect, shouldn’t be throwing stones – women in my life. (Touch of bitter fuck you! perhaps…)

However…time to be proactive and give this mental constipation a much need laxative!

I’ve decided to take the Nanowrimo challenge in a more personal way then it is intended. For those of you unaware of what Nanowrimo is, it’s a national writing challenge. An incentive for delinquent writers like me to get off their asses and write that fucking novel! When is it you ask? Why November of course. 30 days of pounding out 6-7 pages of type every day for the entire month. Yup. Some genius out there decided November was NAtional NOvel WRIting MOnth and writers across the planet are pissing themselves with anticipation, self doubt, excitement and belly-flops. God only knows how many stressors have been triggered, but hey, at least we writers get a month to vomit out our scribe-babies and maybe even accomplish what has thus far only been dreamed of – actually writing that fucking novel!

I, on the other-hand, don`t need anymore stressors in my life right now. I am full to the brim and my Depends can`t hold anymore piss. So, I have decided that next year I will join the frantic cue of neuroses waiting to be unleashed – perhaps. For now I am going to accept the challenge but write in the comfort of my own blog where I can write whatever I want without guidelines and perhaps not even an ending. And what will I write about you ask…

My story.

Yup. I`ve decided that I need to unleash the demons and discover the truth buried deep DEEP down inside of me. A truth some reveal in therapy and others reveal when tequila is abundant. Well, I can`t afford therapy and I will do my best to stay away from the tequila when I scribe out my baby…but as it happens, I have found some of my truth buried deep within that magical mystical intoxicated worm.

It`s been a complicated, beautiful-ugly life and one that I have considered ending one too many times but for the grace of…whoever is watching over me. I have decided that my life, as ugly and shameful and horrific and sparing and lively and wonderful and surreal as it has been is worth a write or two, and perhaps will even make a good read for anyone interested…And if I am really REALLY fortunate, it may help a like-experienced weary traveler on a self-destructive path to realize that they are not alone. That life has meaning even when it seems impossible to find.

So, over the next two weeks I am going to think, plot and probably redo the face of this blog cuz it needs a more personal touch. I might design a header if WordPress allows…or I might just make it all a moody black. Don`t know yet. Just letting whatever feels right happen to it and to me right now. I am giving up control. Having said that, I will caution any readers of this blog that my story may not be an easy one to read and I will not varnish anything to make it prettier or more palatable. Life is messy. Life is cruel. Life is not fair. But life does teach us some valuable lessons if we an open our hearts and minds to the teachings.

I am just one humble human of billions.

With a story.

But this one will be mine.

For me.

Finding Fucking Zen!

Tags

, , , , ,

Seriously having a hard time holding onto and keeping my Zen. Little tastes of serenity are not conducive to peace of mind. I’m learning to follow my spiritual path – exploring how to heal myself and walk tirelessly with my heart of compassion – listening closer to the voice within to guide my decision making process… but how the FUCK do I do that when the challenges keep surpassing the teachings! Enough with the tests pleeeeease! I’m really trying here, ya know. Do you HEAR me? I’m done!!!

Fuck!

To Come…

Tags

, , , , , ,

The past two days have been spent fixing my broken technology…grrr. The kid has moved in with me and had my computer locked into a music streaming website. Can you say virusssss? So after two formats, several reinstalls and a massive headache which no amount of Advil relieved, I am happy to announce my tek-muse is functioning again. I need my desktop for grounding when I write. This little message is coming from my Samsung phone but the whole process

feels

flimsy and weak and completely uninspiring so this just won’t do. Of course, a true writer could perform on any medium I suppose… Hmmm. But we all have preferences and I choose my desktop dammit!

Soooo…I’m off to spend some time away from my own company – a much needed break from this mind and it’s never ending chatter which can illuminate and bog down at the same time – and hopefully I come back refreshed and ready to write. I’ve been doing some research on character attributes of the Gemini human being and my synapses are in overload as the dots connect and the “ah ha!” moments collide. Man oh man! All I will say for the moment is I think I finally see how and why I tick as I do.

And…um…sorry?

Searching

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

I keep looking for you
In the script of your heart
Even tho I’ve asked you erase the pages
Is it wrong of me
To want your words to me
To continue thru all of the ages?

I miss
I miss
I miss
What I felt with you

Deep in the quiet
I hear only your whispers
Of love and promises broken
I on my own
Am in saddened transition
From words I wish had been spoken

This life has tested
Every ounce of my being
Pushed into raw and naked places
I’m grateful for you
And the lessons I’ve learned
But I live now in the empty spaces

Still searching
Always searching
For…

Image

Broken Woman

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Broken Woman

Found this recently and loved it. Both for its artistic expression and its appropriateness. If she were brown-skinned and howling at the moon, she would be I. Didn’t name the photo, but knew a soul felt relate-ability. Props to the artist and thanks…she’s my wallpaper and will be for awhile. A reminder that I am fluid and strong, even when feeling weak.

Once More…

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

If you could see me now
Living in the hollowed out existence
Of my yesterdays with you
Clinging to the truest
Most complete sense
Of belonging to anyone
I have ever experienced
Aching to breathe in my air
And soak in my skin
The living scent of you
With all its beautiful layers
Of exquisite arousal
And peaceful contentment
Distinctly you
And only you
If you could live inside my life
For just a fraction
You would leave it
Never again in doubt
For you would know
That I would give anything
To be in that place
That heavenly place
Sharing in a love so…
Venezuela
Distinctly mine
Forever yours
Perfectly ours
Where we would fit intrinsically
Limbs entwined
Lips a breath away
Anticipating
Once more

I miss our love

Smiling Faces

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

So much has happened in the last 7 months that to try and fit it all in one post would discredit the whirling emotions and complicated people and extraordinary circumstances behind the monumentous and life changing events, so I won’t bother to try. Besides, I’ve moved yet again and am awaiting my Internet hookup. As smart as my phone is, I dislike blogging in this medium. It lacks the depth and breadth of my desktop screen and is missing the persona attached to my 1940’s writing desk. Short of hand written notes, I need correct environment for verbosity and my Samsung 4S Mini, as sexy and sleek as it is, is not my muse. I will say however, that life is not all I had hoped for in this 53rd year of my birth which was celebrated quietly on the 24 of May, with beloved daughter, best friend eX and new boi in my life… and tho the tapas was delicious and the gifts heartfelt, the day was flat and empty. And sad.

Someone was missing.

All is not well in my world for I’m learning once again that smiling faces can hide dark demons and that misery can quickly replace rapture. It’s a false world full of false people and in this moment I am appreciating the deep and sometimes brutal honesty of the damaged and broken. At least their truth is pure and the smile lighting their eyes is a peaceful and almost ethereal glow and not a reflection of the scorching hellfire brimming just below the surface.

Beware the smiling face spouting pretty platitudes for to swoon in the sweet serenade of the silver tongued mistress is to drown in the depth of convincing falsehoods that will corrupt your shining innocence…

If you let it.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 402 other followers