Words can hurt.
but in my experience feelings hurt more. Words may mean a lot, but they can also be utterly empty, devoid of any trappings outside of what inflection might be added by the tone of the speaker. And on paper, they can be static, empty, just black marks on the page with nothing behind them. We are the ones that make words have meaning, and sometimes, even to us, they are only the little black marks. But feelings are feelings, no escape there.
I am use to hiding, lost behind a mask of carefully chosen words, expression's, reactions. It was not a mask like the traditional ones, it wasn't one fixed painting that covered my face; no more like A.I. I suppose, having several 'modes' on hold to summon at will, at need for them. I didn't show myself, who I was was for me alone. And the feelings were ignored, pushed away. After all that was the easy way to live. You have to understand something, in foster care you are moved around all the time, there was no constant in my life, nothing really stable outside my school. And I had learned from a young age that people didn't like to be around you if you were upset or needy or anything that they didn't want to deal with. I fear rejection, it is what scares me like nothing else in life, so I worked hard to make sure I could be what everyone around me wanted or needed, I shielded how I really felt and kept all my feelings to myself, showing only the outside. Only the good girl.
"Good girl", "smart girl"
"You make us so proud girl"
Role model, hard life
But really nothing, really little done
Not as good as thoughts make her
Not as strong, not as happy
Smile girl, smile bright
All eyes are fixed on you tonight
Here's your chance, don't mess up
Faultless girl, be that girl
Prove yourself and please the world
Hard worker, curtsy sweet
Toss your curls, endearing, kind and giving
Give you all and hope for...
For pride that makes you feel like a lie
For smiles that fade, that die
For praise that weighs down upon you
Have to be better, have to do more
Better girl, be better girl
Dont' let those good thoughts die
Time running out, almost time to be
Be forgotten, one day you're gone, simply gone
But then that's nothing new, you already knew
Loneliness is already you
~Good Girl
Don't let those good thoughts die.
I worked so hard on making sure that the thoughts of others in esteem of me would not fade but I forgot to support my own self, to focus on what I needed, on what was needed for me to be okay and happy. I relied on the modes of automatic reaction for years, even my tears felt programmed in because I made the world muted, everything I felt came out in art, in writing, in the characters I wrote or poetry. It was enough for me because it was all that I allowed myself. Yet lately people want more, people want what is beneath the masks, even if they don't know that the masks are there. And the masks in part aren't there, I've worn them so long they have become a part of me.
But ever since I started writing my autobiography, purging the darkness from my mind, freeing myself with the truth of my words; I have lived more, felt more. Everything has changed this year, I have grown and become younger at the same time, mature and a child, paradoxical in so many ways that is what I am.
I am alive, I am burning, my soul is on the fire of life, I know joy and laughter and pain and sorrow, and I feel it. I feel everything about me. The other day when it was raining I left my umbrella on purpose inside and went and just stood in the rain, feeling the sensation of the rain drops falling on my skin, covering and dripping down me. I tilt my face back in the sun and let my eyes close as the music of the city fills my ears. I'll get on the bus that takes the long way around the city rather then the direct rout just to see more, to reveal in the assault on the senses that it is to live here. I love and fear and cry and pout and tease and laugh.
Living is such a complex, crazy thing that we do.
And some days are worse then others, some days are horrible, others are wonderful.
Thursday was one of my horrible days, the worst I've had since the New Year, the worst in a very long time actually. It started out okay, really it did, just spending time with my boyfriend, chatting. But the closer it gets to me going to him, going and becoming part of his life in a way that I haven't yet, the more nervous I get. After all I have never met a guys family before, how am I going to fit into his life? I was suddenly near tears and thinking I shouldn't step onto that plane, because right now, as we are right now, I'm his dream girl, his perfect match. Oh I'm far from perfect in so many ways and he knows it, but I'm perfect for him in his eyes. What if by going to him I ended that? I was so afraid and I've been doing all this research about how to act with family. I've been over thinking things the way I always do. But mon couer was patient and understanding enough to talk to me, to talk through those fears and calm me down from tears to reasonable sanity.
However school wasn't going to keep things that way. I've been dealing with red tape bs for months now because of verification of my FASFA and other silly little things, but it was really messing up things. I was actually considering dropping out of school, giving up and trying to find something more 'practical' to do.
I went to my Figure Drawing class and spent the first half fighting back tears and convinced I couldn't draw. But then it came time for my homework to be reviewed and my teacher asked me what was wrong. See, these past few weeks I've been alive and all but quivering in classes, passionate and ready to go. So eager, so on fire to learn, to work, to go and grow. He noticed that was off on Thursday so I told him some and he gave me the largest compliment I could have ever received. He told me I couldn't give up and stop, that I was one of the few students he saw each semester he knew would make it as a real artist in this world, because of my passion, my love of what I did, that I had so much promise and I needed to keep going. Art isn't easy, but it would be worth it.
I went back to work then, actually working instead of fighting tears and produced something half decent. But I still felt hallow, raw and overwhelmed, it was the burn out of weeks upon weeks of frustration, fear, helplessness and loneliness in a part as well. My best friend and my boyfriend are both hours away from me, its all to easy to feel lonely here, in a city of so many when I don't have anyone to be with. I need touch, I need to be held, I know that, I'm human. I took the long bus ride home and sat in the dark, listening to music as the city moved past me and I tried to struggle with the feelings that were filling me and crying out. I made it up to my room before I broke down into tears again and cried before calling Neil to talk. I said goodbye to him soon after and cried myself to sleep, going without dinner instead to just get some sleep and try and have a brighter look the next day.
And you know what, it worked.
Friday I got up out of bed even though I didn't really want to. My roommate went with me and I faced the issues, I dealt with things and they turned around, turned out okay. I made things better for myself.
I keep saying I want things to get easier and they do, and then something else becomes hard, because, as sucky as it is that is life, its the endless cycle that we live in. And we as humans struggle through it, with the help of those I love. A friend here in the city told me I have to learn to ask for help and take it without feeling bad about it; no one can make it through this crazy world by themselves, just won't happen. Living is an art, I still haven't perfected my execution by any means, but I'm learning, as we all are.
So here are my little black marks on the page. My words, they could be empty, they could be crammed full of meaning and emotion. I know what they are for me, what are they for you? I can't decide that, only you can. I guess I'll keep feeling, because the mask has slipped and I'm coming out, are you?
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
City Reflections
I’m on a bus right now, driving through parts of San Francisco I have never seen. Its like a whole new world. This is my new home, I can see a church bell tower rising in the distance, a few miles away and it looks almost like it belongs in a fairy tale with smaller flanking towers, points toward the sky topped by crosses. San Fran is a living, growing and changing place, there is so much life that even one who has lived here has yet to see it all. There is so much I do not know. We are closer to the church now, a large green lawn with people everywhere. The church is huge, a might work of art. And we pass it just as quickly as we do everything else. Nothing in life stays still, I am learning this.
Life is a living art, it is something that we can only do, there is no way to really control what happens to you, where you go, what you do. Because its all one crazy, thrown together, insane design that is pulled by the strings by something no one knows. God is only a word at times.
The sun is bright outside the bus, its warm as February draws to an end. Yet inside we are given tinted windows and air conditioning. Trying to mark and changed what this world is will never really work. It will only alter slightly, not completely. And that’s okay, I wouldn’t want to be able to change anything drastically because after all you would most likely miss out on some great things if you could change the design. No one can see the design for their lives, just like a work of art does not know how it will look at the end. There can be the basic lines, the outline or placement lines, to give just the very basic idea, like the soul of the drawing is in those first few marks. Yet even the creator, the artist does not know what the art will be at the end of it. That is why I find it hard to believe that what ever higher power there is really has our lives mapped out for us. Its more, they give the paint, the pencil and we, the paper, the clay, we and the things given to us, make what we are.
Certainly, I thought I could plan and make my life neat and as I liked it. I was going to go to school and graduate, I was going to take my siblings away from my mom and live my life without a romantic other. I never needed anyone, at least I didn’t think so. Then design put Neil in my life, we could have totally ignored each other, but what are the odds that on a site with over two thousand members we two would notice each other and be drawn together. That we would both privately have crushes on each other that neither wanted to admit to.
Life is crazy indeed sometimes.
“I waited for you, today. But you didn’t show, no no no….I needed you today, so where did you go? You told me to call, said you’d be there, and though I haven’t seen you are you still there. I cry out with no reply and I can’t feel you by my side. So I hold tight to what I know, you’re here….and I’m never alone”
I am listening to that song, remembering. I use to think of it as my song for Eric, his death happened five years ago tomorrow. Hard to believe that much time has really passed. But it has regardless. I realize now the song is more about holding on to a feeling, a love even when the person is gone then it is about being alone. When I hear it it reminds me of one of my old foster homes, Melinda’s, or rather the Porters. Their kitchen, I would listen to this song while I did dishes, putting it into the little cream stereo that was attached to the underside of a cabinet. I remember the tiles of the cream and brown color counters, the stove to the right and the long island on the left. During the summer that long island counter would be piled with fruit and veggies from the garden outside. The sun pouring through the window over the sink, the laminated floor that I mopped often. The fridge with magnets from all manner of things and covered with the art work of her grandkids. During Thanksgiving break trashcans would be pulled out and potatoes were peeled by the bag, two, three, four, six bags at least. Cooking and baking day after day. A whole week of cooking all to get ready for one day that normally wasn’t fun anyways.
I remember how out of place I was there.
But then I have never really been ’in place’ I am nineteen but what many have called an old soul. I am odd and silly and sweet and tormented. Many have called me beautiful, and it makes me wonder. Brilliant, beautiful and broken, isn’t that what every guy dreams of? Isn’t that the stories make seem like the best type of girl. Then why was I shunned, outcasted? I was angry and hurt for years that people would call me the first two, know or see parts of the last and now do anything, not want me.
But now I realize why. Its because I would not let myself be shown that way. I pushed off the beautiful, I hid the brilliant outside of class and the broken, well the broken I held to me and shielded from everyone, from everything. Because my brokenness was for me alone. Broken For You, my favorite book, everyone is broken inside, little cracks that make us human rather then perfect. But we all hide it, we do. I have just in this past year found people with whom I can be broken and they are too. And they are okay with that, just like I am okay with it now. Its like coming into your own, realizing that there are basic human truths that unite us all. I just wish I had learned earlier.
No, that’s not true. Because if I had I would not have learned the hard lessons I learned during high school. There are many kinds of strength. First I had the strength to live through horror. Then I had the strength to rise above it, and then the strength to not regret it, the strength to move forward. But now I have the strength to move forward, to live for me and have no regrets, and with that the strength to know, life isn’t going to get easier, to know I have so much more to learn. Life never stops trying to teach us more, that’s part of the design, no one is a finished piece of art until their deaths, there is no end to art. I can see the bay now, the water and the cities on the slopes of the hills across it. Its odd to think that now I basically live on a island.
There is darkness and light in everything, there is strength in everyone, just as there is weakness and courage and cowardice. Everything is a balance, that is what is part of the design. And the design helps us move around, change the elements of our life until we get the perfect composition, the right people, things and goals in our lives. And then it moves ever so slightly, rather like a model posing before an artist. There is no way to really freeze the model so they don’t move, just like life they don’t stop moving, ever so slightly, changing the lighting, the shapes, the composition. Instead of being against those changes now I am for them, I welcome them. Heart break might be ahead of me or bliss, anything and everything, for every low there will be an equally great high. I use to be afraid to feel to much, especially after Eric died, because I never wanted to feel that low again, or worse. It was easier to numb myself to the world around me, to let people do as they wish and try to push past it.
Now though there is no way I can go back to the numb girl. I am alive, my soul burns inside me and I love and laugh. No regrets.
Life is a living art, it is something that we can only do, there is no way to really control what happens to you, where you go, what you do. Because its all one crazy, thrown together, insane design that is pulled by the strings by something no one knows. God is only a word at times.
The sun is bright outside the bus, its warm as February draws to an end. Yet inside we are given tinted windows and air conditioning. Trying to mark and changed what this world is will never really work. It will only alter slightly, not completely. And that’s okay, I wouldn’t want to be able to change anything drastically because after all you would most likely miss out on some great things if you could change the design. No one can see the design for their lives, just like a work of art does not know how it will look at the end. There can be the basic lines, the outline or placement lines, to give just the very basic idea, like the soul of the drawing is in those first few marks. Yet even the creator, the artist does not know what the art will be at the end of it. That is why I find it hard to believe that what ever higher power there is really has our lives mapped out for us. Its more, they give the paint, the pencil and we, the paper, the clay, we and the things given to us, make what we are.
Certainly, I thought I could plan and make my life neat and as I liked it. I was going to go to school and graduate, I was going to take my siblings away from my mom and live my life without a romantic other. I never needed anyone, at least I didn’t think so. Then design put Neil in my life, we could have totally ignored each other, but what are the odds that on a site with over two thousand members we two would notice each other and be drawn together. That we would both privately have crushes on each other that neither wanted to admit to.
Life is crazy indeed sometimes.
“I waited for you, today. But you didn’t show, no no no….I needed you today, so where did you go? You told me to call, said you’d be there, and though I haven’t seen you are you still there. I cry out with no reply and I can’t feel you by my side. So I hold tight to what I know, you’re here….and I’m never alone”
I am listening to that song, remembering. I use to think of it as my song for Eric, his death happened five years ago tomorrow. Hard to believe that much time has really passed. But it has regardless. I realize now the song is more about holding on to a feeling, a love even when the person is gone then it is about being alone. When I hear it it reminds me of one of my old foster homes, Melinda’s, or rather the Porters. Their kitchen, I would listen to this song while I did dishes, putting it into the little cream stereo that was attached to the underside of a cabinet. I remember the tiles of the cream and brown color counters, the stove to the right and the long island on the left. During the summer that long island counter would be piled with fruit and veggies from the garden outside. The sun pouring through the window over the sink, the laminated floor that I mopped often. The fridge with magnets from all manner of things and covered with the art work of her grandkids. During Thanksgiving break trashcans would be pulled out and potatoes were peeled by the bag, two, three, four, six bags at least. Cooking and baking day after day. A whole week of cooking all to get ready for one day that normally wasn’t fun anyways.
I remember how out of place I was there.
But then I have never really been ’in place’ I am nineteen but what many have called an old soul. I am odd and silly and sweet and tormented. Many have called me beautiful, and it makes me wonder. Brilliant, beautiful and broken, isn’t that what every guy dreams of? Isn’t that the stories make seem like the best type of girl. Then why was I shunned, outcasted? I was angry and hurt for years that people would call me the first two, know or see parts of the last and now do anything, not want me.
But now I realize why. Its because I would not let myself be shown that way. I pushed off the beautiful, I hid the brilliant outside of class and the broken, well the broken I held to me and shielded from everyone, from everything. Because my brokenness was for me alone. Broken For You, my favorite book, everyone is broken inside, little cracks that make us human rather then perfect. But we all hide it, we do. I have just in this past year found people with whom I can be broken and they are too. And they are okay with that, just like I am okay with it now. Its like coming into your own, realizing that there are basic human truths that unite us all. I just wish I had learned earlier.
No, that’s not true. Because if I had I would not have learned the hard lessons I learned during high school. There are many kinds of strength. First I had the strength to live through horror. Then I had the strength to rise above it, and then the strength to not regret it, the strength to move forward. But now I have the strength to move forward, to live for me and have no regrets, and with that the strength to know, life isn’t going to get easier, to know I have so much more to learn. Life never stops trying to teach us more, that’s part of the design, no one is a finished piece of art until their deaths, there is no end to art. I can see the bay now, the water and the cities on the slopes of the hills across it. Its odd to think that now I basically live on a island.
There is darkness and light in everything, there is strength in everyone, just as there is weakness and courage and cowardice. Everything is a balance, that is what is part of the design. And the design helps us move around, change the elements of our life until we get the perfect composition, the right people, things and goals in our lives. And then it moves ever so slightly, rather like a model posing before an artist. There is no way to really freeze the model so they don’t move, just like life they don’t stop moving, ever so slightly, changing the lighting, the shapes, the composition. Instead of being against those changes now I am for them, I welcome them. Heart break might be ahead of me or bliss, anything and everything, for every low there will be an equally great high. I use to be afraid to feel to much, especially after Eric died, because I never wanted to feel that low again, or worse. It was easier to numb myself to the world around me, to let people do as they wish and try to push past it.
Now though there is no way I can go back to the numb girl. I am alive, my soul burns inside me and I love and laugh. No regrets.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Reflections of Love
I am behind again, on blogging.
Its hard to keep up with this when there is so much else going on in my life, so much else that needs, wants and takes my attention. What can I say I am a busy girl. But here, I am giving this blog over to love, to the Valentines Day that just passed, and to the new love of my life.
I have never had a Valentines Day before during which I was involved with someone, it just has never been for me, on the day of love and lovers it never felt right to be with someone I didn't love that way. The only person I ever loved in that manner was Eric and after he died, nearly five years ago now, just a few more days, Saturday, I didn't want to love anyone else.
I thought Eric was the one meant for me, he had grown up with me, as much as anyone could sense I moved around so much, he had been my strength and encouragement when I believed that all I had before me was death. He was my angel of mercy in so many ways, I still remember him, his strength and his love and belief in me. He is what has kept me going during times these past few years when I thought I had nothing left to live for. But he isn't here anymore. A friend last year, around this time, snapped at me actually, telling me that I should get over him, that it had been four years since his death and that I moped too much. How could I not when he is the one person in my life up to that point that I knew, with no questions or doubts, loved me for who I was and not for what I could give. He loved the person beneath the facade, the mask I gave the world and he never let me hide from him.
Its odd to think that now I am older then him, I'm nineteen while he never reached that age, he died shortly after his eighteenth birthday. I have my whole life ahead of me, his ended. Its bittersweet, to think of this, to know I will keep living and enjoying my life now thanks in many ways to him, and that he will never have that. But he would be happy for me, I know Eric would. He wanted me to live and to really live, not just be what I thought people wanted or expected. I know he wished he could give me the courage to live without the mask and the guarding walls and shields I built up between me and the world after it had hurt me so badly. But he couldn't give me that, no matter how much both of us wanted it. Because that strength had to come from inside me, not him. He gave me a gift of love and understand and acceptance. When I had it taken away, the one person who had offered that with no strings attached, with no hoops to jump through, the one person in my life who really did seem to care about me, even the horribly broken parts, I lost it. When he died I thought my world ended, I thought I would never love like I had loved him.
And in a way I won't, because he was my first love, he was the first man to ever be in my life in any major way. He was my first crush, the man I dreamed of growing up with and who I imagined when I waltzed with the air. But I never told him I loved him, I never kissed him, there is so much that lay between us, so much that happened, and yet at the same time, so much that did. Such an odd mix of things now that I reflect back upon it.
This last year I have found love in many ways. I have found friends who have been the balm to my soul.
-Jill, one of the most amazing people I have ever met who has never once, no matter how odd or silly I am, had an issue with me, who refuses to put up with any bs and is one of the most talented writers I know.
-Kate, one of the sweetest people I have ever had the honor to meet, a amazing and intelligent girl who looks up to me and made me realize that I could be an inspiration to others without being anything else other then what I am.
-My aunt and uncle in Texas, who give me the first real safety net and support system I have ever had. Who love me, parent me and worry about me, they have shown me love and care in ways I never dared to dream about. And they can't wait to have me come home again, yes, they have given me the one thing I have longed for my whole life, a real home.
-April, my best friend, my confidant about everything, the girl who knows me better then I know myself and is like the older sister I never had. She is smart, funny and caring.
-And Neil.
Neil, what to say about him? That is so hard to know, he is my heart now, mon couer, mon voluer, he stole my heart, my breath and my dreams. I can not imagine a day now that does not include him in some manner. He is with me with every breath that I breath and every step that I take, and I take them, toward him, toward our future together. Because to imagine my life without him in the years to come would be more painful then I could bear. There is fear there too, what if, what if he leaves, what if he dies, stolen from me in the way that Eric was. There is the fear of the 'curse' I have thought my life was tainted with, to lose all those I love. But now, now this year, and the year passed, I have learned to open up my heart, to accept more people in and to trust. I trust him with my dreams, with my future and I give him my forever.
To love is a great and terrible thing, its beauty is immense and the pain that could come, that hovers just waiting to descend is scary. But for the moments when we are together, when I am with those I love, with Jill, April, Kate and my family outside them, when I am with Neil, those moments of joy and peace and right, are worth every risk I take by loving them.
So from now on Valentines Day is going to be a day that is celebrated by me, not just for mon couer, my lover and future, but also for my family, my friends who are my soul's family. Because on the day of love, I rejoice in the love that has filled my life and showed me that while at times I may be lonely, I will never be alone.
Its hard to keep up with this when there is so much else going on in my life, so much else that needs, wants and takes my attention. What can I say I am a busy girl. But here, I am giving this blog over to love, to the Valentines Day that just passed, and to the new love of my life.
I have never had a Valentines Day before during which I was involved with someone, it just has never been for me, on the day of love and lovers it never felt right to be with someone I didn't love that way. The only person I ever loved in that manner was Eric and after he died, nearly five years ago now, just a few more days, Saturday, I didn't want to love anyone else.
I thought Eric was the one meant for me, he had grown up with me, as much as anyone could sense I moved around so much, he had been my strength and encouragement when I believed that all I had before me was death. He was my angel of mercy in so many ways, I still remember him, his strength and his love and belief in me. He is what has kept me going during times these past few years when I thought I had nothing left to live for. But he isn't here anymore. A friend last year, around this time, snapped at me actually, telling me that I should get over him, that it had been four years since his death and that I moped too much. How could I not when he is the one person in my life up to that point that I knew, with no questions or doubts, loved me for who I was and not for what I could give. He loved the person beneath the facade, the mask I gave the world and he never let me hide from him.
Its odd to think that now I am older then him, I'm nineteen while he never reached that age, he died shortly after his eighteenth birthday. I have my whole life ahead of me, his ended. Its bittersweet, to think of this, to know I will keep living and enjoying my life now thanks in many ways to him, and that he will never have that. But he would be happy for me, I know Eric would. He wanted me to live and to really live, not just be what I thought people wanted or expected. I know he wished he could give me the courage to live without the mask and the guarding walls and shields I built up between me and the world after it had hurt me so badly. But he couldn't give me that, no matter how much both of us wanted it. Because that strength had to come from inside me, not him. He gave me a gift of love and understand and acceptance. When I had it taken away, the one person who had offered that with no strings attached, with no hoops to jump through, the one person in my life who really did seem to care about me, even the horribly broken parts, I lost it. When he died I thought my world ended, I thought I would never love like I had loved him.
And in a way I won't, because he was my first love, he was the first man to ever be in my life in any major way. He was my first crush, the man I dreamed of growing up with and who I imagined when I waltzed with the air. But I never told him I loved him, I never kissed him, there is so much that lay between us, so much that happened, and yet at the same time, so much that did. Such an odd mix of things now that I reflect back upon it.
This last year I have found love in many ways. I have found friends who have been the balm to my soul.
-Jill, one of the most amazing people I have ever met who has never once, no matter how odd or silly I am, had an issue with me, who refuses to put up with any bs and is one of the most talented writers I know.
-Kate, one of the sweetest people I have ever had the honor to meet, a amazing and intelligent girl who looks up to me and made me realize that I could be an inspiration to others without being anything else other then what I am.
-My aunt and uncle in Texas, who give me the first real safety net and support system I have ever had. Who love me, parent me and worry about me, they have shown me love and care in ways I never dared to dream about. And they can't wait to have me come home again, yes, they have given me the one thing I have longed for my whole life, a real home.
-April, my best friend, my confidant about everything, the girl who knows me better then I know myself and is like the older sister I never had. She is smart, funny and caring.
-And Neil.
Neil, what to say about him? That is so hard to know, he is my heart now, mon couer, mon voluer, he stole my heart, my breath and my dreams. I can not imagine a day now that does not include him in some manner. He is with me with every breath that I breath and every step that I take, and I take them, toward him, toward our future together. Because to imagine my life without him in the years to come would be more painful then I could bear. There is fear there too, what if, what if he leaves, what if he dies, stolen from me in the way that Eric was. There is the fear of the 'curse' I have thought my life was tainted with, to lose all those I love. But now, now this year, and the year passed, I have learned to open up my heart, to accept more people in and to trust. I trust him with my dreams, with my future and I give him my forever.
To love is a great and terrible thing, its beauty is immense and the pain that could come, that hovers just waiting to descend is scary. But for the moments when we are together, when I am with those I love, with Jill, April, Kate and my family outside them, when I am with Neil, those moments of joy and peace and right, are worth every risk I take by loving them.
So from now on Valentines Day is going to be a day that is celebrated by me, not just for mon couer, my lover and future, but also for my family, my friends who are my soul's family. Because on the day of love, I rejoice in the love that has filled my life and showed me that while at times I may be lonely, I will never be alone.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Darkness Into Light
She was running, lost in the darkness that threatened to surround her. Here was her home, was her truth. The darkness that surrounded her was the darkness that filled her life, that plagued her waking moments. She could never escape from it, not fully. She had been a fool to think otherwise.
Yet still she ran, her feet pounding against the pavement, sounding in her ears, filling the empty void that wrapped around her like a blanket to muffle out all sensation. Only it didn't, because she could still feel, still smell and hear and long. She felt afraid and alone and overwhelmed. She smelled the stagnation of the darkness, the mold of a place kept in a unnatural state of no movement. She could hear her rattling, gasping breathes as she fled. She could feel the the chill of the air, the coldness that came from the depths of despair. She was possessed by this darkness, it was who and what she was. So she ran, and ran, her footsteps pounding into the ground beneath her, a ground that seemed to be no different then the air around her, her wide eyes were sightless, for here, there was no sight, nothing, nothing but the darkness and the cold and the frozen feelings that were thawing and ripping through like Furries talons.
She was at the mercy of this dark core, but she would not freeze her heart, because to do that would be to loose hope. Hope, it came with her footsteps, with the feel of her feet hitting against the ground. Light entered her world, soft and gray, it was so faint, so wispy it felt almost like a teasing rather then true light. It was the faintest color allowed. But it meant the uthna was over, the darkest part of her night had passed. And she lived, and felt and breathed. She had survived and she would keep running. Running toward the light that teased her with its soft glow.
Light increased, steadily, slowly, small increments filled the world around her until it was no longer darkness but dawn she ran through and instead of fleeing she was hurrying, running toward something someone. Hope gave her wings to her feet as she kept going, the wind of her movement tossing back her dark curls, her pale cheeks flushed with the exercise of her hurry.
She stumbled then, almost falling to her feet and then arms came around her, catching her to them. Holding her close. She panted, her lips parted, her body trembling. Her legs pulsed almost by themselves it seemed after so long running. Yet she burrowed into the warmth of the arms that held her, felt the heat of the man who held her, the heat of his heart, his love. It burned through her frozen figure, thawing the last of the ice that held her heart in its hold. Suddenly feelings burst through into her until she wept from them, the tears hot and stinging as they slipped down her frozen, pale cheeks. Her head tilted back, misty eyes going to the dark amber of the man who held her, who loved her.
They just looked at each other, staring into the soul of each other before his lips slowly lowered to hers and he took her into a sweet, gentle kiss that burned through everything, that left her with just him, her hope, her love, her future. He would be the strength she did not have. And she would be his.
Yet still she ran, her feet pounding against the pavement, sounding in her ears, filling the empty void that wrapped around her like a blanket to muffle out all sensation. Only it didn't, because she could still feel, still smell and hear and long. She felt afraid and alone and overwhelmed. She smelled the stagnation of the darkness, the mold of a place kept in a unnatural state of no movement. She could hear her rattling, gasping breathes as she fled. She could feel the the chill of the air, the coldness that came from the depths of despair. She was possessed by this darkness, it was who and what she was. So she ran, and ran, her footsteps pounding into the ground beneath her, a ground that seemed to be no different then the air around her, her wide eyes were sightless, for here, there was no sight, nothing, nothing but the darkness and the cold and the frozen feelings that were thawing and ripping through like Furries talons.
She was at the mercy of this dark core, but she would not freeze her heart, because to do that would be to loose hope. Hope, it came with her footsteps, with the feel of her feet hitting against the ground. Light entered her world, soft and gray, it was so faint, so wispy it felt almost like a teasing rather then true light. It was the faintest color allowed. But it meant the uthna was over, the darkest part of her night had passed. And she lived, and felt and breathed. She had survived and she would keep running. Running toward the light that teased her with its soft glow.
Light increased, steadily, slowly, small increments filled the world around her until it was no longer darkness but dawn she ran through and instead of fleeing she was hurrying, running toward something someone. Hope gave her wings to her feet as she kept going, the wind of her movement tossing back her dark curls, her pale cheeks flushed with the exercise of her hurry.
She stumbled then, almost falling to her feet and then arms came around her, catching her to them. Holding her close. She panted, her lips parted, her body trembling. Her legs pulsed almost by themselves it seemed after so long running. Yet she burrowed into the warmth of the arms that held her, felt the heat of the man who held her, the heat of his heart, his love. It burned through her frozen figure, thawing the last of the ice that held her heart in its hold. Suddenly feelings burst through into her until she wept from them, the tears hot and stinging as they slipped down her frozen, pale cheeks. Her head tilted back, misty eyes going to the dark amber of the man who held her, who loved her.
They just looked at each other, staring into the soul of each other before his lips slowly lowered to hers and he took her into a sweet, gentle kiss that burned through everything, that left her with just him, her hope, her love, her future. He would be the strength she did not have. And she would be his.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Reflections of Art
I am a painter.
Rather like the "I am woman" statements, it is a definite, simple statement of who I am.
It is part of my very being in so many ways. I paint with my words, with my eyes, I give birth to art but always, all drawings are buildings to painting. I paint with my voice, with my movements, I give birth to art in every way that I can. Because living is an art and I intend to be a master at it. And of course, as an artist, I am a painter by choice. So it is not apt for me to consider stating myself as a painter to be as elemental and true to my being as a woman.
I have not posted much of late, because life has caught up with me in many ways. And my talents and mind are focused on 'art' art rather then writing. I have created many pieces of art, rough things so far, but still art. I feel like I am coming alive within again, my soul is shinning out brightly as I am rediscovering my love, my truth. I come out of my three to six hour classes more energetic then I went into them, and say with friends "Great class" "I love school." You have to love it when you can do that no? I think that everyone should try to do something like this, not art, because it is not for everyone. But to find the thing that brings them to life inside and fuels their passions, makes their hearts race a bit and they are raring and eager to go to work or class. I mean, if the whole world did that then perhaps it would be a happier place. Granted that might not be great for things like waste management and such, but then, it isn't going to happen, so I will keep that as my own private version of a perfect world.
That's all for now. I'll write again soon.
Rather like the "I am woman" statements, it is a definite, simple statement of who I am.
It is part of my very being in so many ways. I paint with my words, with my eyes, I give birth to art but always, all drawings are buildings to painting. I paint with my voice, with my movements, I give birth to art in every way that I can. Because living is an art and I intend to be a master at it. And of course, as an artist, I am a painter by choice. So it is not apt for me to consider stating myself as a painter to be as elemental and true to my being as a woman.
I have not posted much of late, because life has caught up with me in many ways. And my talents and mind are focused on 'art' art rather then writing. I have created many pieces of art, rough things so far, but still art. I feel like I am coming alive within again, my soul is shinning out brightly as I am rediscovering my love, my truth. I come out of my three to six hour classes more energetic then I went into them, and say with friends "Great class" "I love school." You have to love it when you can do that no? I think that everyone should try to do something like this, not art, because it is not for everyone. But to find the thing that brings them to life inside and fuels their passions, makes their hearts race a bit and they are raring and eager to go to work or class. I mean, if the whole world did that then perhaps it would be a happier place. Granted that might not be great for things like waste management and such, but then, it isn't going to happen, so I will keep that as my own private version of a perfect world.
That's all for now. I'll write again soon.
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