deja vu. deja vu.

i do not know how to get out of this quicksand. i do not know how to ask for help. i do not know who to ask. i do not know the words to use. i do not know what i am running from. i do not know who i am running to.

evil eyes

when you look into the eyes of evil...at first glance they may reflect just the opposite. it is only until you gouge your eyes out that you can truly see.

spinning

i cannot get out of this place of mourning, shock and hurt. it is embarassing and tiring that i am still here. the only silver lining is that i am so exhausted of him being such a spineless, passive human...that i am losing my will both to interact with him as well as have strong questions about whether or not he is even the person i thought i loved. i mean, he sits in his relationship 'because the label means something'. yet...he sees me everyday, is cloying with me everyday..there is no way that bitch knows that or would allow that....so how much does that label really mean? really makes me understand that it doesnt mean anything to him...it is just a way for him to tell me he doesnt love me in the most passive of ways ever. i cant understand having a child...but i suspect it brings a feeling of the overwhelming need for for protectiveness. but, in true form, the other line i get...(from both of those assholes) is needing to be together for the child. can i possibly love someone who can be so selfish as to CONCIOUSLY decide to set forth an example of love and family as a dysfunctional coexistence? isnt the path being set for that poor little one not to be able to seek love as an adult bc he has never known it in romantic form?

if i dont believe that he ever loved me, if i dont believe he ever stopped, if i dont believe that he actually just 'coexists' at home, if i still feel like he lies by omission, if he chooses a woman who has a blacker heart than my own and is raising a child in a way i would never allow for my own.....how can i possibly still be whirling in hurt and pain?

...it is because we were different, better people together.

i mourn the loss of those good people and the replacement of them with lesser, unworthy shells of people.

im pretty sure....

you have no friends. how can no one being screaming to you to get the fuck out? can everyone in your miserable existence be in the same denial? is the notion of idealism biological such that i am the only person on earth who has any? for someone who respects themselves so little, at least i can say i wont settle for something i know isnt right. you laugh at me and taunt me for being a stupid whore because words speak louder than actions...and apparently passivity speaks loudest of all...but how dare you. you sit as the biggest hypocrit of them all hiding behind a pathetic excuse but spin it as 'noble'. what. a. fucking. joke. you 'want nothing if it isnt love'. false. lies. you just want to win. you said as much. you shameful, hateful person. you are equally cruel to each other. you equally are wasting and using each other. what a sad, sad existence. i cant wait to laugh in your face when it all falls apart and i can welcome you to my hell. at least i can be honest with myself and with everyone around me about me. and what i want. and what i feel.

you fucking duality of scum. rot in hell.

nightline.

happy. non-existent. but the least i can do is force myself to recognize a silver lining:

- i can move whenever i want to wherever i want
- i dont have to interact with someone who hates me and who i hate right back for the rest of my life
- i can have sex with anyone i want; whenever i want; wherever i want
- i can spend my money how i want...no one to ask permission of
- i get to be true to me. always. no submissive compromises.
- i can turn the light on when i cant sleep at 3 in the morning and not wake anyone up (usually)
- travel is cheaper for one
- i dont have to raise my children in this shithole town if i decide not to
- the future is wide open
- my future may be longer than my past...and if that is the case...i am lucky my future holds promise instead of dread


what a bunch of bullshit.

an image of peace.

i lay here, reading and thinking...trying to embrace the return of the insomniacal cycle that i am all too familiar with as it characterized my entire year of 09 and even before. the only new, and possibly welcoming, perspective i have of the renewed familiarity of these twilight hours is an appreciation of the sound of nothing...it is acceptable at this hour...because in every house, in every life - it is expected that 3am has a hush to it.

for no explicable reason, an image of sitting by a campfire popped in my head. a not-so-comfortable lawn chair, fire-warmed shins, crackling logs, room-temperature scotch that has given way to that euphoric mind place of too fuzzy to firmly grip reality, but not yet fuzzy enough that inhibition and reason are foregone. a journal. a pen. just me. just thoughts.

if only my mind could stop there. what a perfect setting. but, no. there is always a tailing thought, a last piece to the puzzle that is thrown in: him. how the thought of the only desired ending to the scene above is for his cold hands and long arms wrap around me; his warm scotch-ridden breath breeze over my neck. a night of peaceful sleep in protective, loving, non-judgemental arms.

which returns us to the underlying raison d'etre of lack of sleep. it is never peaceful. it brings no relief to the tiredness, no release from tension. it only awakens to a new day that i didnt ask for and frankly dont want. it awakens to another day of empty, another day of distance and longevity between now and between then.

the only thing i know, is that my being has reached its capacity of endurance. ive been struggling to prevent the dam from breaking with my fingertips and i am about to be flooded....

big spoon

oh hello, insomnia my old friend. i did not miss you, but alas, you return. how i wish there were a big spoon to hold the little spoon and whisper the sleeplessness away.

lotta looking through today, lotta looking through...it's daggers to the soul.

lotta invisible everyday. enough for a lifetime. more than one person should endure.

so much endured cruelty. can no longer decipher it from kindess. then again, it has been said there is no finer line than that between hate and love...that those we love the most we hurt the most...

24.

it is just about acceptance.

and not hope for change.

and not hope for right.

and not hope for justice of the heart.

maybe it is just about learning that fire-spitting anger will always be there...that mind-paralyzing, body-numbing sadness will always be there...there is no longer existence without those two feelings.....there is only one way to achieve dissipation of them...and it involves a very long life of love-making....of fucking the pain away...as using intimacy as an eraser to all the wrongs we have done to each other. and i cannot do it alone. SL and fantasies do not equate mind-erasing, past-forgiving, unequivocal, intoxicating love.

it has come to be that hope wanes. but shock wears me like the layers of my skin. it does not wane. every day the reality of the void of him, of the rejection of him, of the not good enough of me....still stings, just as if it were the very first moment i learned he refused to catch me.

i hate me.

and i cant seem to think of him as anything more than that ppa that used me as a sex toy for his escape....no intention to ever make good on (empty) promises.

i hate her.

i shall learn to train the mind to use moments of distraction as living....and all the endless hours in between to be the long drought between sips of life.

i looked into the eyes of 24. and i saw a lifetime to be lived. and a reminder of one lost. i saw love and hope and a reflected a cold, closed heart with no room for wondering what if or could be.

what a long, long road this has been. maybe one day i will stop crying. it wont be today. or tomorrow. but it might be one day.