Tough

Tough.

Not that word used when you want something but can't have it and your parents are unsympathetic.

Tough.

What happens when life kicks your ass and leaves you for dead on the side of the road. But you refuse to die. You push on and keep going through the hurts. Broken hearts. Tough decisions. Lost faith. You still stand through the pain.

Tough.

It's hard on the outside but soft and gooey on the inside. Even when you take deep gashes. Like when that bitch keyed your car. Cut it right down into the metal. You can buff it but that only takes the edge off. You can fill it in and paint over it. But it's still there and so are you.

Tough is standing tall and strong even when you are laughed at. Tough is being kind to someone in need, even when that someone is your enemy. Tough is choosing to be the better person. Tough is admitting you're wrong and saying sorry. Tough is living life THROUGH the hardships and pains instead of AROUND them.

Tough.

Old Times

Every time I hear older songs my mind goes back to good times when I listened to those songs. I never realized then that those memories would one day be so very precious. I find these memories playing in my mind like old movies. And my heart hurts. I hurt for the joys of my friends. The ones that are six hours away. The ones I can never go see because I don't have the money to drive out there to see them. I love them so much and they mean so much and I miss them so much! I feel so lonely here. *sighs and lifts a glass of vodka* To old times!

Pleasure Thyself

When I really want to pleasure myself it's a private moment that I seek. While masturbation can be done with a partner, and is very enjoyable when done that way, I get the most pleasure from masturbation when it's MY moment. The fact that it's all about me and nobody else is very possibly one of the reasons it's so much more pleasurable. And while toys are really really REALLY nice, my hands always out-work them. Also, though I like visual stimulation as well as the next girl, the best porn flicks are always the ones that my mind creates. This is my pleasure moment. And sometimes it only lasts a few minutes. Long enough to climax and then relax.

Pleasure thyself! I've heard of girls being embarrassed by masturbation and even abstaining from it because they think it's wrong. But here's the thing. It's nothing embarrassing and it's GOOD for you. It's your own special moment where you get to know your body. The more you know your body, the more you'll love it. And the more you love it, the happier you will be. It's also a great stress reliever. AND it feels good. And the best part about this amazing awesome pleasure, it's all about you!

So, pleasure thyself! There is nothing wrong about it.

The Block Unstuck

So I've had writers block and it came unstuck in the oddest of times. At work during a dead time at the registers I pump out this little piece written on receipt paper in tiny messy hand writing.

I see you there from the corner of my eye. Nervous movement, switching from foot to foot. Face red, forehead beaded with sweat. I turn to meet your eyes. You avert them downward. The corners of my mouth turn up in a crooked smile. I take pleasure in your discomfort. I take you in, my eyes drinking you up like a refreshing glass of ice tea. I feel my smile twist into something sinister. You sense the change and your eyes dart up just long enough to see the change before falling quickly again. I smell your fear. Your body’s now covered in a light sweat, it glistens in the harsh fluorescent lights. I laugh menacingly and you breath in sharply, the breathe hissing through your teeth. You clasp and un-clasp your hands in front of you, trying to couch the rising terror. I jeer in your direction and you cease moving. Sly little mouse, sneaking peeks at your captor. I begin circling you slowly, devouring you with my eyes. Taking in every little detail, my grin widening. From my pocket I remove two small, shiny pebbles and play with them. They click against each other. Beautiful music. You flinch at the sound, squeezing your eyes closed tight, your hands in fists at your side. I smile at the small display of aggression and fear. I contemplate the small stones in my hand, but only for a moment. My decision made, I hurl one at your tender back. You yelp like a wounded dog, a red welt rising where the stone hit. Tears spill from your closed eyes. I let another one fly, hitting you in your fleshy middle. Another red welt rises, your chin begins to tremble. My empty hand flies out and slaps you hard across the face. A guttural crackle of laughter escapes me as you cry out in pain and surprise. Your eyes now wide and alert, searching frantically for where the next blow might come from. I spit at your feet my mouth twisted in disgust. “To your cage!” I order. You promptly obey, falling to your hands and knees and scampering to a tiny wire cage, where you curl into a shaking ball of human flesh. My need is satisfied for now.

Love Yourself!

All I have to say is, Love Yourself!

Poet's Journel: Entry 1

No regrets. Right? Well, that's the way I'd like life to be but sadly that is not a reality. I do regret. Things I never did or said. Things that should have never left my mouth, and actions I should never have taken. I sometimes wish for time back so that things could be different. But really, it seems like that's just too much to ask for. I try to love life but it's hard to love what hurts you. And I try to live life to the fullest only to look back and see so much more I could have done. Hindsight's 20/20 right? Not exactly. It's always tinted with our own feelings. Things are never clear to someone when that someone is involved. It takes a different perspective right? Well, sort of. but not really cause a person with no involvement may see things more clearly but they will never see the circumstances correctly. So who can really truly sort everything out into piles of right and wrong? Well, I think that's impossible. There's not just right and wrong, black and white if you will, but there are those gray areas. Those murky places where it's hard to see a clear line. yeah, there are some who believe gray just can't exist in those circumstances but I, well, I believe in it. And it's always the gray that seems to hold the most regret. No one is perfect. And if anyone claims to be they are liars and you should keep your distance from them cause in the end they will inevitably hurt you. And everyone makes mistakes. I am just human. And in that single sentence I admit to every single flaw and imperfection that I have. I reveal all of my weaknesses and open myself up. Honestly, it's scary to be that open. I don't want to be hurt in those tender spots that I build walls to protect. But if I never take the walls down I have a dreadful certainty that I will never really live and that nobody will really know me. And yes, it's pretentious of me to think that my words or life may inspire someone. But sometimes I really hope it does, sometimes I really just want to make the world a better place. Even just a little bit. And you see, I think that's why I'm here. While everyone is out there searching for their reason in life. I already have mine! And that is something I will never regret. Who would regret that? Maybe my life means nothing to a lot of people but maybe to just one it means a changed life. And yeah, that makes me feel really good. Like I'm special even if it's just because I made someone smile when they were having a hard day. I know a smile feels good when my day's been less than stellar. A good laugh always washes the tears away and a good cry always cleans out all the smog that our hearts seem to trap form the pain and suffering in the world. And I don't blame any higher being for it. That's just the way the world is. For light to exist there must be darkness and the dark couldn't exist without the light. I've come to accept that this is just the way of things. And if we're honest with ourselves we'd admit it's only as bad as we let it be. I feel like each and every one of us has a little dark and a little light in us and it's up to each of us how much of each comes through. sometimes I feel sad because we let the darkness snuff out our light. And it aids in a scary hopeless feeling. I try to push it down but sometimes it presses harder into me and threatens to suffocate me. But no matter how strong it is I will not let it win because it would make my whole reason for living nothing. If I let that hopelessness consume me I would never be able to change lives. And if I let that happen I would regret it forever. And that's what I'm trying to avoid.

This small town atrocity.

Take me away from here.
Away from this small town atrocity.
Away from the open fields and dense forests. Away from the cool clean air and wild animals and wide open space. So very beautiful, they do speak to my soul. Take me away from these closed minds.

How could something so closed live in someplace so open? How could ideas so ugly breed in a place so beautiful?

They crowd around me. Smothering. Marching on like clones. Not thinking, not feeling. Everything that is different is bad. Anything that is bad must be destroyed.

And I, I am the wild rose blooming in their well kept garden. Ferocious with feral beauty. My thorns may be sharp but my petals are delicate. The Geraniums* swarm all around gathering their stones to throw. They shout out my sins. I'm charged with being different, alive, real. Either I conform or die.

I am me, I am open and free. I will not give in to their selfish closed minded demands. I will not conform. I call out to the Mother Goddess to take me away.

Take me away from here.
Away from this small town atrocity.



* GERANIUM -Stupidity; Folly: http://www.taraflorist.com/TaraFloristFlowerSymbolization.htm

I Believe, Do you?

I believe. . .

in fairytales.

in magic.

in love.

in happily-ever-after.

in fairies.

in ghosts.

in witches.

in childhood dreams.

in prince charmings.

We snatch dreams from our children everyday forcing them to grow up too fast. No time for fanciful imagining. Life is cold and hard and there is no magic. Love is just a cliche and a prince charming will never ride up on a white horse to rescue you.

It's all so wrong. We are murdering childhood. Stealing creativity. Smothering individuality. Trampling kindness. And breaking dreams.

I believe!

Do you?