No fear of Pain

Why do I let you hurt me so?
Why can't I just let go?
oh don't answer!
Because I know.
Because you are gentle
And you are kind
And when I kiss your lips
My soul comes afire
But oh you hurt me so
So off I meander in my mind
To another place and another time
Where we can pretend we have a different fate
To love and be loved,
With no fear of pain
To love and be loved,
with no fear of pain.

--This is an attempt to use the lines:

To another time and another place
Where we can pretend we have a different fate

it also represents how i feel right now, but just a warning that I'll be using those lines again elsewhere more than likely

Philosophy and Toilets

I find that every time I have a serious emotional breakdown it is in a bathroom. It is within those sunken grey tiled cubicles that I question my life, what value if any it contains there-in, my relationships, my friends, and my reality. I think it goes back to how I hid in a bathroom while my dad told my mother he wanted a divorce. To me a bathroom is a safe-haven. A place where I can grieve, I can sing, I can laugh, and most importantly a place where I can think. Mind you, a lot of the thinking that happens during these bathroom breaks is not happy thinking. Think of it this way. It is a fact that most women analyze themselves most harshly (physically) when they are in the shower. What do showers and toilets have in common? They are both found in bathrooms. So maybe its not just me. Maybe women have emotional connections with bathrooms? Maybe throughout the ages women have developed a psychological link to where they bath and get ready for their "men". Shut up, feminists. We ALL do it. When we put on our make-up its never "for ourselves" like we claim. That's total bullshit! We put it on to make other women feel inferior (sorry, but its true, we are total bitches) and to make ourselves more attractive to the opposite sex. True, this DOES make us more confident, but why should we need a male's eyes glued to our ass for us to be confident? Okay. I've ranted off topic. The point is every time I go into a bathroom I re-evaluate my existence. And the long and short of it is, that has never been a good thing for me. Sometimes the math will add up to a positive mood, but lately that has failed to be the case. I think I might write more on this later.

-----

All is fair in love and war.

Yesterday morning I woke up. I looked in the mirror, and as usual, I died a little inside. In fact I died a little more so because I was constantly comparing myself to a friend who will remain coded as "K". K is blonde. K is a flirt. K is a size 2. K can (as was proven yesterday) manipulate me to the point where I don't know who I am anymore. We were driving down to a piercing parlor in Massachusetts so she could get her navel pierced. She wanted me to get mine done too. Once down their, after she'd done hers. I made the mistake of looking at the navel jewelry. I was curious, I was tempted. Her voice and the persuasion of the piercer got me into the chair. Once it was done I began to feel waves of regret wash over. And yet, because of Katie telling me how smashing it looked I couldn't tell her that I hated it. I got back to my dorm after telling Katie I couldn't keep hanging out with her that night, the first and only time I had stood up for myself that weekend.

I got back to my room and I cried. I drove my boyfriend, the wonderful and patient man that he is absolutely crazy by the end of the night. He loves me. But I've realized a very sad truth this morning. It used to be that he was the one who emotionally dragged me around. Now it is I who do this to him. I miss his emotions. I don't know what he has done with them. I assume he has hidden them from me, in an attempt to please me. But you see, sometimes when he'd cry I'd say, "oh dear god no! Please don't cry!" BUT THAT WASN'T BECAUSE I DIDN'T LIKE THAT HE CRIED! It was because I knew he was crying because I had made him cry. That I, had said something, done something, that had pushed him over the edge. I miss him.

I wish I wasn't driving him away. i'm trying not to. I'm reading my psychology text for clues as to why. I try to calm myself down. I'm forcing myself to eat at least 2 meals a day, I know that my extreme diets drive him bonkers, and I'm focusing on not doing that. But I still drive him to the point where I think he'd rather I wasn't there.

I feel that even though I am a year older, ever since I've gone to college our ages have been switched. As if we are freshman and senior on the same plane instead of two different ones. He has gotten so wise and I have gotten so scared and lost. Is that simply what happens when you are freshman and you are senior? Is it an illusion or has a change taken place?

He is always supportive. He always says "I love you too". He kisses me on the forehead. He holds his hands on my hips and lets me lean my head against his shoulder. He is gentle, very gentle.

At 5am I figured out how to undo the navel ring. The relief I felt as I removed it was staggering. When I woke up this morning i nearly cried for joy. I jumped out of bed and looked in the mirror, and for the first time I saw a different girl in the mirror. A girl with hips, yes. But also a girl with a flat stomach, and strong muscled legs. A girl with a pretty smile, which balances out her slightly crooked nose. A girl with large brown eyes, that despite being brown look pretty. I think for the first time. Instead of seeing an image conjured out of hate. I saw me. It was a strange feeling actually liking the way you look. I'm still absorbing the shock from it.

---
Austin asked me why I threw out the things that I wrote. I told him it was because they were crap. I can't resurrect the monologues I have been tossing and not posting. But I can post this one that was conceived this morning. And instead of being written down and tossed, was typed here.

Gypsy dreams

The Air smells of salt
And the cold wind
Brings it closer
I can sense them
The waves crashing
But they are not here
Why must the air torment me?
Why can't it content me?
Oh wind, sweet wind
Take me far away
Take me to the mountaintops
Where you often play!
Take me to the sea
And together you and me
Will dance upon the waves
And explore the hidden caves
Why must I be stuck to this earth?
Planted here by weight and gravity?
If only I could travel like the wind
Then contented I would be.

We are the World

Quiet is the way of the world
Grace and Virtue always sleeping

Violent is the way of the world
Anger and despair always watching

Happy is the way of the world
breezes and sunbeams constantly playing

Fearful is the way of the world
The arms of the abused bashed and bleeding

Gentle is the way of the world
With warmth and peace smiling freely

Chaos is the way of the world
with fires burning and madness increasing

Peace is the the way of the world
In dreams and holidays while people are weeping

Everything is the way of the world
Constantly changing, and swiftly returning

Define Profound

I wanted to write something beautiful
I wanted to write something profound
I wanted to tell the world that I loved you
Shout it from the rooftops, let the echos abound
I wanted to sing my heart out
I wanted the night to never end
I wanted to be with you forever,
And I still do, baby, I still do

This isn't something profound
Most likely, it isn't beautiful
But I wrote it from the heart
I feel it burning in my soul
And I hear that's all that should matter
So I'm packing up my heart
Placing it in a box marked fragile
And I'm sending it to you

Flesh and Blood

I"m not a piece of paper
That you can tar apart with your pen
I'm flesh and blood
Remember that
I'm flesh and bood
If you use me like a diary
Don't be surprised
when I spend my nights crying
I'm flesh and blood
Remember that
I'm flesh and blood.

The paper you write on
If it could speak
Would be sobbing
Making the ink run
So why are you surprised
When I cry dear?
When I cry dear?

I'm not a piece of paper
That you can mark up with your pen
I'm flesh and blood
Remember that
I"m flesh and blood
My ears hear, my mouth can scream
And my eyes can certainly see
See what you are
See what you are

The paper you write on
If it could speak
Would be sobbing
Making the ink run
So why are you surprised
When I cry dear?
When I cry dear?

I'm not a piece of paper
That you can mark up with your pen
I'm flesh and blood
Remember that
I"m flesh and blood

I'm not a piece of paper
That you can mark up with your pen
I'm flesh and blood
Remember that
I"m flesh and blood