So things are going well...I was cussed out by a customer before I even had a chance to clock in a couple days ago, and the next day it was so bad that one of the store managers told me, and I quote, "Nobody is getting fired today. If you need to cuss someone out today for your mental health and well-being, today is the day. Have at it".
It's fine. I'm fine. Everything is fine.
I'm a home-body. Really, not much has changed about the way I live, (besides the constant desperation to disinfect, not touch my face, keep illness away from my family, find toilet paper, wash my hands, figure out math problems, not go crazy, etc) because staying home is my idea of a good time. Working with the public though...Holy hell fuck...!
Ya'll...What, and I cannot stress this enough, the actual fucking fuck?!
Anyone else around here having the same brand of fun?
Monday, April 20, 2020
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
The Great Toilet Paper Apocalypse of 2020
So I went out for groceries and toilet paper last week y'all...And fuck my life.
I went to eight stores. Eight. Two of them twice. On my second trip to the aforementioned two, I happened to arrive 15 minutes after the delivery truck. So I scored a $20 dollar pack of 12 rolls of toilet paper, and three whole bottles of hand sanitizer! By the time I made it the forty second walk to the store with hand sanitizer, the place I got toilet paper at was already out. By the time I got to the cashier at hand sanitizer store, the woman at the end of the line said hand sanitizer was gone.
In other news, I was fortunate enough to find eggs at the fourth store.
Ya'll...It's the self-perpetuating goddamn apocalypse out here. I haven't seen a bag of rice in two weeks.
This week I saw somebody loading up toilet paper and ran into the store. Grabbed a pack. My coworker and her family were down to 3 rolls and hadn't seen any on the shelves anywhere for nearly two weeks. Gave her the pack of toilet paper. It worked out. And it irritated me. It irritated me that things are so ridiculous out here that I, (who would normally rather lose a small body part than be late to work) felt the need to run into a grocery store 7 minutes before the start of my shift, to buy a product I didn't need, because someone I knew needed it and couldn't get it because the masses have devolved into a selfish hoard.
Phew, ok, that was a run on sentence even for my mouth.
I am fortunate enough to still be employed. For now. And...Not gonna lie, I'd really love to come home and stay there for three weeks, only leaving for walks in the woods or to pick up kiddo. I mean c'mon, I was MADE for social distancing! Talk about living the dream...I'm not staying home though. I'm going to work while I can, because I don't have anything to fall back on once I'm sent home, besides a bit of pto. Not enough pto.
It's weird because I have enough of a medical background to know that the bandana and various face coverings myself and my coworkers re-use, the gloves that we do the same with, and our massive step-up in sanitation measures, are truly inadequate. But I'm still out there. Like so many others. We don't want to be, and in an overall sense of practicality, we shouldn't be. But, ya'know, survival in all its forms and all.
Moving on...
Who are you guys reading these days? So many of the blogs I loved have faded away or have simply been taken over by other domains.
Who are you reading that this dusty sub might enjoy in the event that she is lucky/unfortunate enough to be sent home?
I went to eight stores. Eight. Two of them twice. On my second trip to the aforementioned two, I happened to arrive 15 minutes after the delivery truck. So I scored a $20 dollar pack of 12 rolls of toilet paper, and three whole bottles of hand sanitizer! By the time I made it the forty second walk to the store with hand sanitizer, the place I got toilet paper at was already out. By the time I got to the cashier at hand sanitizer store, the woman at the end of the line said hand sanitizer was gone.
In other news, I was fortunate enough to find eggs at the fourth store.
Ya'll...It's the self-perpetuating goddamn apocalypse out here. I haven't seen a bag of rice in two weeks.
This week I saw somebody loading up toilet paper and ran into the store. Grabbed a pack. My coworker and her family were down to 3 rolls and hadn't seen any on the shelves anywhere for nearly two weeks. Gave her the pack of toilet paper. It worked out. And it irritated me. It irritated me that things are so ridiculous out here that I, (who would normally rather lose a small body part than be late to work) felt the need to run into a grocery store 7 minutes before the start of my shift, to buy a product I didn't need, because someone I knew needed it and couldn't get it because the masses have devolved into a selfish hoard.
Phew, ok, that was a run on sentence even for my mouth.
I am fortunate enough to still be employed. For now. And...Not gonna lie, I'd really love to come home and stay there for three weeks, only leaving for walks in the woods or to pick up kiddo. I mean c'mon, I was MADE for social distancing! Talk about living the dream...I'm not staying home though. I'm going to work while I can, because I don't have anything to fall back on once I'm sent home, besides a bit of pto. Not enough pto.
It's weird because I have enough of a medical background to know that the bandana and various face coverings myself and my coworkers re-use, the gloves that we do the same with, and our massive step-up in sanitation measures, are truly inadequate. But I'm still out there. Like so many others. We don't want to be, and in an overall sense of practicality, we shouldn't be. But, ya'know, survival in all its forms and all.
Moving on...
Who are you guys reading these days? So many of the blogs I loved have faded away or have simply been taken over by other domains.
Who are you reading that this dusty sub might enjoy in the event that she is lucky/unfortunate enough to be sent home?
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Lost their damn minds...
People done lost their damn minds out there.
Then they closed the schools and these fuckers went NUTS.
I waited in line 15 minutes to buy saran wrap. Guy in front of me bought 8 cans of comet right from beneath the sign, "as are most retailers, we are out of hand sanitizer and toilet paper. We apologize for the inconvenience and will restock as soon as we can".
Woman in line behind me yesterday bought 148 rolls of toilet paper.
Me today: Ummm...I'd just like one pack of toilet paper today so I can wipe my ass next week? Nope. Ummm...Tampons? Hahahahaha nope. Ok...one bottle of antibacterial hand soap that will last my household a month? Hahahahaha, Oh helllll no! Ok, one small bottle of hand sanitizer...? Hahahaha, good luck bitch, the bathrooms are closed because people are stealing all the toilet paper, and you think you get hand sanitizer???
People done lost their damn minds out there. And their buying doesn't even make sense! If you really think it's that bad, what you gonna do, live off toilet paper and hand sanitizer for three months??
Ok, so clearly I have had a rough week and am low on patience. I'm the only one at work who hasn't been out sick for a week, and there were only two of us today, which is our busiest day of the week. People are even more rude, demanding, and entitled than usual. I'm exhausted.
The nonsensical panic, selfishness, entitlement, and overall sense of personal importance overwhelming the portion of the human race that I'm dealing with right now is disgusting.
I want to believe that we can be good. That humanity has redeeming qualities. That there is something inherently beautiful and wondrous about who and what we are. But damn...
Then they closed the schools and these fuckers went NUTS.
I waited in line 15 minutes to buy saran wrap. Guy in front of me bought 8 cans of comet right from beneath the sign, "as are most retailers, we are out of hand sanitizer and toilet paper. We apologize for the inconvenience and will restock as soon as we can".
Woman in line behind me yesterday bought 148 rolls of toilet paper.
Me today: Ummm...I'd just like one pack of toilet paper today so I can wipe my ass next week? Nope. Ummm...Tampons? Hahahahaha nope. Ok...one bottle of antibacterial hand soap that will last my household a month? Hahahahaha, Oh helllll no! Ok, one small bottle of hand sanitizer...? Hahahaha, good luck bitch, the bathrooms are closed because people are stealing all the toilet paper, and you think you get hand sanitizer???
People done lost their damn minds out there. And their buying doesn't even make sense! If you really think it's that bad, what you gonna do, live off toilet paper and hand sanitizer for three months??
Ok, so clearly I have had a rough week and am low on patience. I'm the only one at work who hasn't been out sick for a week, and there were only two of us today, which is our busiest day of the week. People are even more rude, demanding, and entitled than usual. I'm exhausted.
The nonsensical panic, selfishness, entitlement, and overall sense of personal importance overwhelming the portion of the human race that I'm dealing with right now is disgusting.
I want to believe that we can be good. That humanity has redeeming qualities. That there is something inherently beautiful and wondrous about who and what we are. But damn...
Wednesday, March 11, 2020
What Do We Crave?
So I was sitting here thinking about a bunch of random stuff...Last night with her, our/my D/s struggles, the conversation I had with kiddo while we made banana bread tonight, random things I need and crave...And I got to thinking, what do we crave?
We boil our human cravings down to specific needs, desires, and emotions, because that's how we meet them, right? If you can't choose a specific need or desire, you can't really fill or address it.
Specifics are important. They provide us with definition which leads to the fulfillment we seek. Without specifics, such fulfillment can be elusive, and our pursuit of it merely confusing to ourselves and the people in our lives.
But what if, just what if, sometimes we are too specific and become so fixated on the exact thing we think we need and the way we think we have to get it, that we are unable achieve it simply because our view of what it is has become too narrow?
For instance, kiddo craves acceptance and confidence, but rightly enough, he's afraid that the confidence he has reached for in his pursuit of acceptance just kinda makes him act like an asshole. So how does he achieve his goals and circumvent the asshole bit (putting aside that there's a huge difference between cocky and confident, but he's eleven and we're both working our way through it all lol)?
Maybe, just maybe, he doesn't really need either of those things. Maybe he just needs to learn belief in himself and acceptance of who he is at his core. Maybe he just needs to learn to trust that feeling in himself when he does the right thing, regardless of what others say and think about it.
I have been called confident over and over. I'm not. I know I'm not. But oddly enough, I am accepted for my acceptance of self and my irritating inner drive to do what I believe is inherently right. I used to crave acceptance from others before I realized that what I really needed was acceptance from myself which allowed me to sleep at night.
Before I get too sucked into the details...
So many of these needs and desires we have as human beings come down to much more vast and basic things. And sometimes, when we allow ourselves to let go of our narrow and specific ideas of what those things are, we gain the ability actually achieve and experience them.
I need to submit. It is who I am. When I get sucked into the details of how exactly that submission should take form, I become unable to achieve it. When kiddo needs to believe in himself and translates that as having the acceptance of others, it becomes an elusive goal because it is then no longer based on a broader acceptance of himself and an unfailing ability to choose what he knows is right, but based upon how he wants people to react to that which he seeks within himself.
We all experience so many cravings and needs. Many of them are valid. But perhaps, just perhaps, sometimes, we get so sucked into the specifics of what we think they are and how we believe they must be achieved, that we miss the broader overall need that our cravings are rooted in. We therefor deny ourselves the ability to meet them because our focus has become to narrow.
.
What we crave, what we need, what we desire, is perhaps not always found in the specifics we are fixated upon, but in the broader realities which contain those specifics. And oftentimes we lose what we are reaching for simply because we are unable to broaden our definition enough to realize that we can have what we seek if we merely let go of our attachment to how it comes.
We boil our human cravings down to specific needs, desires, and emotions, because that's how we meet them, right? If you can't choose a specific need or desire, you can't really fill or address it.
Specifics are important. They provide us with definition which leads to the fulfillment we seek. Without specifics, such fulfillment can be elusive, and our pursuit of it merely confusing to ourselves and the people in our lives.
But what if, just what if, sometimes we are too specific and become so fixated on the exact thing we think we need and the way we think we have to get it, that we are unable achieve it simply because our view of what it is has become too narrow?
For instance, kiddo craves acceptance and confidence, but rightly enough, he's afraid that the confidence he has reached for in his pursuit of acceptance just kinda makes him act like an asshole. So how does he achieve his goals and circumvent the asshole bit (putting aside that there's a huge difference between cocky and confident, but he's eleven and we're both working our way through it all lol)?
Maybe, just maybe, he doesn't really need either of those things. Maybe he just needs to learn belief in himself and acceptance of who he is at his core. Maybe he just needs to learn to trust that feeling in himself when he does the right thing, regardless of what others say and think about it.
I have been called confident over and over. I'm not. I know I'm not. But oddly enough, I am accepted for my acceptance of self and my irritating inner drive to do what I believe is inherently right. I used to crave acceptance from others before I realized that what I really needed was acceptance from myself which allowed me to sleep at night.
Before I get too sucked into the details...
So many of these needs and desires we have as human beings come down to much more vast and basic things. And sometimes, when we allow ourselves to let go of our narrow and specific ideas of what those things are, we gain the ability actually achieve and experience them.
I need to submit. It is who I am. When I get sucked into the details of how exactly that submission should take form, I become unable to achieve it. When kiddo needs to believe in himself and translates that as having the acceptance of others, it becomes an elusive goal because it is then no longer based on a broader acceptance of himself and an unfailing ability to choose what he knows is right, but based upon how he wants people to react to that which he seeks within himself.
We all experience so many cravings and needs. Many of them are valid. But perhaps, just perhaps, sometimes, we get so sucked into the specifics of what we think they are and how we believe they must be achieved, that we miss the broader overall need that our cravings are rooted in. We therefor deny ourselves the ability to meet them because our focus has become to narrow.
.
What we crave, what we need, what we desire, is perhaps not always found in the specifics we are fixated upon, but in the broader realities which contain those specifics. And oftentimes we lose what we are reaching for simply because we are unable to broaden our definition enough to realize that we can have what we seek if we merely let go of our attachment to how it comes.
Tuesday, March 10, 2020
Huge and Absolutely Ridiculous Kink...Wait, Is That Even A Kink?
So umm, I've rebuilt myself fairly well, (in my own opinion, of course) however; sub me doesn't really function for shit lately. I guess maybe when you remake so much of your life you just have to take it one piece at a time?
Thing is, I've had a while now lol...
I struggle with writing about D/s in this space these days. Partly because I've been kind of stuck, but mostly because there is always the chance that one day he will drop in and read again.
This...That huge part of me that I explored with him for so long...It was the part of me he shredded the most. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't dread the potential outcome of every chance I take in opening myself back up to that. We became the opposite of the idea of BDSM which stirs my heart body and soul.
But I digress from my original train of thought...
See, I've got this Domme girl. And we've put together a life, and have both rebuilt ourselves from scratch. Together. So I have a safe and healthy space to open the door for the sub. We have been D/s for years to varying extents...We're just...I think that in a way we have both challenged each other greatly as we rebuilt, and falling back into our rhythm has been difficult...
Still digressing from my original train of thought...
All of the above meanderings stemmed from one original musing about something I have identified as a huge, and possibly absolutely ridiculous kink. And is it really even a kink?? I mean, it feels like one lol.
The feeling of safety. Physical, emotional, and spiritual safety. It's a huge turn on. And when when it's coupled with painful or terrifying things with an occasional hint of tenderness? To be tortured, yet secure in being truly treasured...Yea...That. Safety provides for the luxury of true vulnerability, and that is hot as hell to me.
Safety allows for a lowering of defenses, and I have found that it is only in the lowering all of my defenses that I become free to truly experience submission and its dangers to the fullest.
I guess...I need to fly again... To wrestle and succumb to the dragon...I just have to take the leap and believe it won't devour me completely. Or perhaps more accurately, hope that it doesn't chew me up and spit me out. After all, being devoured is itself a huge part of the appeal.
Thing is, I've had a while now lol...
I struggle with writing about D/s in this space these days. Partly because I've been kind of stuck, but mostly because there is always the chance that one day he will drop in and read again.
This...That huge part of me that I explored with him for so long...It was the part of me he shredded the most. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't dread the potential outcome of every chance I take in opening myself back up to that. We became the opposite of the idea of BDSM which stirs my heart body and soul.
But I digress from my original train of thought...
See, I've got this Domme girl. And we've put together a life, and have both rebuilt ourselves from scratch. Together. So I have a safe and healthy space to open the door for the sub. We have been D/s for years to varying extents...We're just...I think that in a way we have both challenged each other greatly as we rebuilt, and falling back into our rhythm has been difficult...
Still digressing from my original train of thought...
All of the above meanderings stemmed from one original musing about something I have identified as a huge, and possibly absolutely ridiculous kink. And is it really even a kink?? I mean, it feels like one lol.
The feeling of safety. Physical, emotional, and spiritual safety. It's a huge turn on. And when when it's coupled with painful or terrifying things with an occasional hint of tenderness? To be tortured, yet secure in being truly treasured...Yea...That. Safety provides for the luxury of true vulnerability, and that is hot as hell to me.
Safety allows for a lowering of defenses, and I have found that it is only in the lowering all of my defenses that I become free to truly experience submission and its dangers to the fullest.
I guess...I need to fly again... To wrestle and succumb to the dragon...I just have to take the leap and believe it won't devour me completely. Or perhaps more accurately, hope that it doesn't chew me up and spit me out. After all, being devoured is itself a huge part of the appeal.
Saturday, March 7, 2020
Ten
So this blog will be ten years old tomorrow...One whole fucking decade.
A lot happens over the course of ten years. Hell, a lot happens over the course of one. I took a long hiatus from this place. And coming back...Well, it's stirred up a lot in my head. And it's been kinda lovely cuz, some of you are still here and that warms my heart to no end.
A decade of my story is here. Not all of it, and certainly very little of the last few years. But it is still my story, my history, my life.
I have been talking to one of my aunts. I never had any close family, but still, she's my family. And she remembers family history that no other living person knows. My youngest has expressed an interest in learning his family history, so I started talking to her about it and really acknowledging some interesting things about history and being alive.
Stories die when no one remembers them. Some day, everything we know and experienced will vanish unless someone else learns our story. Histories, lifetimes, people, their stories, the events during their lifetimes, these things only truly die when no one knows them and can pass them on, and no one listens or recalls the tales of those who do.
And these individual moments of failure, success, pain, joy, love, hate...All these little individual moments put together as a whole make up the world as we know and experience it.
We are all merely a drop in the ocean, but without all those little drops, there is no ocean.
This blog is ten years old. I turned 37 last week. Time flies, but it doesn't have to pass us by. We add to our story and those of people we interact with each and every day. Life is beautiful. It's fucking painful, and ugly, and glorious, and amazing. Our story is what we make it, how we choose to allow others to shape it, the memories and moments we share with others.
In the end, perhaps it matters not how long we are alive, but that we truly live in the time we are given. And if we are really lucky, we will touch even just one person enough for them to listen to our story. And remember.
Given the theme this post kind of took on its own, I would just like to mention Cat, of Be pleasing always. Her dom, HerLiege, recently posted that most of her blog was going to be deleted by tumbler.That brings me great sadness. Because, while Cat had already passed away when I found her blog years ago, her story meant something to me, it impacted my ideals and views, helped to shape so many of my ideas of submission. I can still call up that feeling in my heart that reading her words inspired, and the introspection and growth it evoked. Her story and who she was will always be beautiful to me. And because she shared her story, I will remember her. Always.
A lot happens over the course of ten years. Hell, a lot happens over the course of one. I took a long hiatus from this place. And coming back...Well, it's stirred up a lot in my head. And it's been kinda lovely cuz, some of you are still here and that warms my heart to no end.
A decade of my story is here. Not all of it, and certainly very little of the last few years. But it is still my story, my history, my life.
I have been talking to one of my aunts. I never had any close family, but still, she's my family. And she remembers family history that no other living person knows. My youngest has expressed an interest in learning his family history, so I started talking to her about it and really acknowledging some interesting things about history and being alive.
Stories die when no one remembers them. Some day, everything we know and experienced will vanish unless someone else learns our story. Histories, lifetimes, people, their stories, the events during their lifetimes, these things only truly die when no one knows them and can pass them on, and no one listens or recalls the tales of those who do.
And these individual moments of failure, success, pain, joy, love, hate...All these little individual moments put together as a whole make up the world as we know and experience it.
We are all merely a drop in the ocean, but without all those little drops, there is no ocean.
This blog is ten years old. I turned 37 last week. Time flies, but it doesn't have to pass us by. We add to our story and those of people we interact with each and every day. Life is beautiful. It's fucking painful, and ugly, and glorious, and amazing. Our story is what we make it, how we choose to allow others to shape it, the memories and moments we share with others.
In the end, perhaps it matters not how long we are alive, but that we truly live in the time we are given. And if we are really lucky, we will touch even just one person enough for them to listen to our story. And remember.
Given the theme this post kind of took on its own, I would just like to mention Cat, of Be pleasing always. Her dom, HerLiege, recently posted that most of her blog was going to be deleted by tumbler.That brings me great sadness. Because, while Cat had already passed away when I found her blog years ago, her story meant something to me, it impacted my ideals and views, helped to shape so many of my ideas of submission. I can still call up that feeling in my heart that reading her words inspired, and the introspection and growth it evoked. Her story and who she was will always be beautiful to me. And because she shared her story, I will remember her. Always.
Friday, March 6, 2020
Thursday, March 5, 2020
Stupid Question
Ok, so I may have forgotten how to use Blogger, or I may just not know how to use my phone (a valid option as I spent weeks wondering why my alarm wasn't making sound in the morning until it was pointed out to me that said alarm was set on silent).
Anyways...Any ideas as to why I can't respond to comments from my phone? I can write posts and do the things, but if I want to comment I can't comment as myself. It just gives me an option to comment anonymously or with some other profile made over a year ago which quite frankly I don't even remember creating but obviously did.
Anyways...Any ideas as to why I can't respond to comments from my phone? I can write posts and do the things, but if I want to comment I can't comment as myself. It just gives me an option to comment anonymously or with some other profile made over a year ago which quite frankly I don't even remember creating but obviously did.
Wednesday, March 4, 2020
Belonging
One of the things I loved about Blogland was the feeling of belonging it gave me. Coming back after having built this blog, and my entire life really, around Alpha, I feel a bit like I don't belong. This blog was very much OUR story. And now...Now it's mine. And in a place that is so much based upon belonging TO someone...It feels a bit odd. But I am who I am. And it is what it is.
I watched a movie the other day, and the main character was having a conversation in which she said, "I'm much more stable when I write, I haven't written much lately." and the other character replies with, "How are you doing with that?" to which she responds with, "Not well, not well at all."
That resonated deeply with me. B has asked me to write on more than one occasion in the last couple years, because she knows it's good for me, knows I need it. But so often...So often, the words haven't been there. too much pain, too much bitterness, too much confusion, too little drive to stare at the blinking cursor and make it move. And above all perhaps, when it comes to here, too much fear that he would read it and lash out.
I don't know where I belong. But I do know that I am still me. I still need this thing we call D/s, I still need the physical pain he trained out of me in favor of control over all those years. I still crave control, yet have developed a deep and abiding angst around any efforts to do so. I know that I'm a monster, and I'm working with that lol.
I have learned how to take care of myself because it was that or die. And for a while, not gonna lie, I just wanted to die. I got these kids though...so I didn't.
I took care of him and the kids for years with these:
It's a rough life, and not ideal for a mother; living in the hills away from your children, only seeing them when you come home to dump piles of money on the table, and hear a week later that the rent it was intended to pay was already spent. But I was good at it. And I built a reputation on my hands and my name. My hands were good and I made my name gold. Because I could be trusted and I always landed top chair. And I belonged. With the crazies, the misfits, the storms, the underground castoffs...
Then...I couldn't do it any more. Too unstable, too dangerous, too tired of living in a tent, too tired of not seeing my kids, too tired of all the bullshit, the backstabbing, being taken advantage of, the cold and the rain. Too fucking old to be living on the hill telling people to get their fucking drugs off my table and working 18 hours a day. Too damn good at what I did to accept the wages they began offering.
So I learned something new. It's hard to start over and suck at something new. But I have learned that it is also brave, and can be well worth it. so I traded in those scissors for these:
I can't threaten to stab the people who piss me off anymore, but I do provide health insurance for my kids, I sleep inside in the same bed every night, I can support myself in a very stable manner, and I work with one crew who has my back, not because they need me, but because I have shown them who I am and we have each others backs. And I still kinda suck at it, but I do belong.
It has been a lifelong fault of mine, this desire to belong. And I have fought against it so much...But I have learned that a refusal to base my life on that desire always lands me in the places where I truly do belong.
I do belong to someone...This girl. This girl he wanted me to want because he wanted her. This girl he left me for who would have left him in a heartbeat if I had asked her to, this girl who loves me like he once did...This girl who broke my heart and put me back together when he told me over and over to just die. In a way, she's getting shorted. But she has my back.
The sub in me can't give her what she knows me to be at my core right now. What she really needs in a relationship. Yet...In a way she's also getting the best of me, because I hold my shit down. I pay the bills, and I work my ass off.
I guess...I guess I belong wherever I choose to be. And maybe that's just one of the things we learn about life along the way, that we belong where we choose. I choose to be here again. And so, as odd and strange as it is, as much as it may challenge all that I believed and pick at not-so-old wounds, I still belong here. Because I am what I am. And I built this space, and I still hold to many of the core beliefs I have expressed here.
I watched a movie the other day, and the main character was having a conversation in which she said, "I'm much more stable when I write, I haven't written much lately." and the other character replies with, "How are you doing with that?" to which she responds with, "Not well, not well at all."
That resonated deeply with me. B has asked me to write on more than one occasion in the last couple years, because she knows it's good for me, knows I need it. But so often...So often, the words haven't been there. too much pain, too much bitterness, too much confusion, too little drive to stare at the blinking cursor and make it move. And above all perhaps, when it comes to here, too much fear that he would read it and lash out.
I don't know where I belong. But I do know that I am still me. I still need this thing we call D/s, I still need the physical pain he trained out of me in favor of control over all those years. I still crave control, yet have developed a deep and abiding angst around any efforts to do so. I know that I'm a monster, and I'm working with that lol.
I have learned how to take care of myself because it was that or die. And for a while, not gonna lie, I just wanted to die. I got these kids though...so I didn't.
I took care of him and the kids for years with these:
It's a rough life, and not ideal for a mother; living in the hills away from your children, only seeing them when you come home to dump piles of money on the table, and hear a week later that the rent it was intended to pay was already spent. But I was good at it. And I built a reputation on my hands and my name. My hands were good and I made my name gold. Because I could be trusted and I always landed top chair. And I belonged. With the crazies, the misfits, the storms, the underground castoffs...
Then...I couldn't do it any more. Too unstable, too dangerous, too tired of living in a tent, too tired of not seeing my kids, too tired of all the bullshit, the backstabbing, being taken advantage of, the cold and the rain. Too fucking old to be living on the hill telling people to get their fucking drugs off my table and working 18 hours a day. Too damn good at what I did to accept the wages they began offering.
So I learned something new. It's hard to start over and suck at something new. But I have learned that it is also brave, and can be well worth it. so I traded in those scissors for these:
I can't threaten to stab the people who piss me off anymore, but I do provide health insurance for my kids, I sleep inside in the same bed every night, I can support myself in a very stable manner, and I work with one crew who has my back, not because they need me, but because I have shown them who I am and we have each others backs. And I still kinda suck at it, but I do belong.
It has been a lifelong fault of mine, this desire to belong. And I have fought against it so much...But I have learned that a refusal to base my life on that desire always lands me in the places where I truly do belong.
I do belong to someone...This girl. This girl he wanted me to want because he wanted her. This girl he left me for who would have left him in a heartbeat if I had asked her to, this girl who loves me like he once did...This girl who broke my heart and put me back together when he told me over and over to just die. In a way, she's getting shorted. But she has my back.
The sub in me can't give her what she knows me to be at my core right now. What she really needs in a relationship. Yet...In a way she's also getting the best of me, because I hold my shit down. I pay the bills, and I work my ass off.
I guess...I guess I belong wherever I choose to be. And maybe that's just one of the things we learn about life along the way, that we belong where we choose. I choose to be here again. And so, as odd and strange as it is, as much as it may challenge all that I believed and pick at not-so-old wounds, I still belong here. Because I am what I am. And I built this space, and I still hold to many of the core beliefs I have expressed here.
Tuesday, March 3, 2020
Storm
So I changed my name here..I called myself lil, because he called me littleone. And I am no longer his littleone. Indeed, rarely can I bring myself to indulge in the much needed luxury of being little...But that is beside the point. I can no longer be lil.
So...
I became storm. Because because I am the storm. And the storm survives.
Life is amazing, and painful, and beautiful and awing, and shocking, and it will beat you down and eat you up...
Yet...Without the storm there is no harvest.
The quote that's been sitting unattended on the side of this blog for years now? I tattooed it on my wrists. And I find it no less true today than when I posted it here. One must sow to reap, and one must, in some way, labor for the reward.
The storm...The storm makes us what we are. Plants that do not weather the wind and rain and harsh conditions are weak. They cannot survive...
So...
I became storm. Because because I am the storm. And the storm survives.
Life is amazing, and painful, and beautiful and awing, and shocking, and it will beat you down and eat you up...
Yet...Without the storm there is no harvest.
The quote that's been sitting unattended on the side of this blog for years now? I tattooed it on my wrists. And I find it no less true today than when I posted it here. One must sow to reap, and one must, in some way, labor for the reward.
The storm...The storm makes us what we are. Plants that do not weather the wind and rain and harsh conditions are weak. They cannot survive...
Friday, February 28, 2020
It's Been A Long Fucking While...
So...It's been a while since I posted here. Took me a hot minute to login...Then the first thing I did was read his last post here...And I seriously considered deleting it. Cuz...Everything he hates me for, I did because he told me to, because what he said was such a public and erroneous low blow that it was difficult to start back here with reading that of all things...But I decided to leave it. At least for now. This blog has been meandering, but if nothing else, I have striven to make it an honest reflection of my life. And all things considered, those are some of the nicer things he has said to me over the last few years...
So...I dunno if anyone who used to read here is still around, but I think maybe I'm back. It's hard to come back here, with everything I built this blog on and believed in my core and lived...And now him and I barely speak.
And the part of me I struggled so hard to build this blog on...I don't know how to be her anymore. Because before my true end with him, I never loved anyone he told me not to, I never pursued anything he didn't tell me to, and I never in a million years imagined that someone I had turned myself so completely over to could endeavor so much to destroy me, to destroy my mother, would threaten my life and the lives of everyone i loved...
This blog was a reflection of my life for a very long time; however, I have learned that a reflection of ones life is not always a complete reflection of themselves, but more a reflection of who they are on their path at the time.
I am nothing if not a survivor. And I am still here. I am still me. Perhaps a different version with many core things which will never change.
This blog is nearing a birthday shortly after mine. I haven't checked, but tentatively, I'ma say its gonna be 12 years old. It's my story. And a story does not end when it takes twists and turns. When we lose everything we ever knew and became things we never knew we could to survive. It doesn't end when we tuck away parts of ourselves to survive and vanish into the mists for a bit. A story only ends when there is no one left to tell it, and not one left to hear it.
I remade myself. And yea, I'm still a bit of a fucking mess, and there's aspects of me that I want to unlock and explore more again, I just dunno quite how to yet.
I'll always be who I am at my core. And maybe I'll never understand how he so completely abandoned me and told me to go with others, while hating me for following that instruction, how he of all people could rain what he has on me and no longer care, how some random little girl could mean so much more than me. But it is what it is. And yea, I still care, because...If I didn't, wouldn't that be an egregious insult to all that we were? One day I'll be ok with him choosing a girl he knew for a week over me. One day I'll forgive myself for the fucked up shit I did and its impact on my kids.
Today is perhaps not that day. But that's ok. Because I survived. My kids are ok. And I have a girl that maybe hates me sometimes, but she truly loves me, and she truly loves my boys. And God knows, I do love her.
I'm trying to learn how to give and surrender in the ways that I loved so much with this new knowledge I have...That the person you submit your being to may someday despise you to the core of your being. And I don't yet know how. But I do know how to survive. And I'm still here.
So...I dunno if anyone who used to read here is still around, but I think maybe I'm back. It's hard to come back here, with everything I built this blog on and believed in my core and lived...And now him and I barely speak.
And the part of me I struggled so hard to build this blog on...I don't know how to be her anymore. Because before my true end with him, I never loved anyone he told me not to, I never pursued anything he didn't tell me to, and I never in a million years imagined that someone I had turned myself so completely over to could endeavor so much to destroy me, to destroy my mother, would threaten my life and the lives of everyone i loved...
This blog was a reflection of my life for a very long time; however, I have learned that a reflection of ones life is not always a complete reflection of themselves, but more a reflection of who they are on their path at the time.
I am nothing if not a survivor. And I am still here. I am still me. Perhaps a different version with many core things which will never change.
This blog is nearing a birthday shortly after mine. I haven't checked, but tentatively, I'ma say its gonna be 12 years old. It's my story. And a story does not end when it takes twists and turns. When we lose everything we ever knew and became things we never knew we could to survive. It doesn't end when we tuck away parts of ourselves to survive and vanish into the mists for a bit. A story only ends when there is no one left to tell it, and not one left to hear it.
I remade myself. And yea, I'm still a bit of a fucking mess, and there's aspects of me that I want to unlock and explore more again, I just dunno quite how to yet.
I'll always be who I am at my core. And maybe I'll never understand how he so completely abandoned me and told me to go with others, while hating me for following that instruction, how he of all people could rain what he has on me and no longer care, how some random little girl could mean so much more than me. But it is what it is. And yea, I still care, because...If I didn't, wouldn't that be an egregious insult to all that we were? One day I'll be ok with him choosing a girl he knew for a week over me. One day I'll forgive myself for the fucked up shit I did and its impact on my kids.
Today is perhaps not that day. But that's ok. Because I survived. My kids are ok. And I have a girl that maybe hates me sometimes, but she truly loves me, and she truly loves my boys. And God knows, I do love her.
I'm trying to learn how to give and surrender in the ways that I loved so much with this new knowledge I have...That the person you submit your being to may someday despise you to the core of your being. And I don't yet know how. But I do know how to survive. And I'm still here.
Tuesday, August 21, 2018
Grey
So...It's been a hot minute since I posted here huh. I don't know how to be be here. I was always me in this forum. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less. Yet now...I have this thing...This fear that anything I say here will be thrown at me in the most painful of ways by the one whom this blog so much revolved around...So I don't write. Cuz yea, it hurts. More than I can put into words...
I used to believe that life was black and white. I prefer to see the world in terms of black and white. It's simple. Right, wrong; love, hate; black and white. But he taught me that there is grey. I fucking hate grey. And fuck 50 shades of grey for acting like grey is cool, but I digress, as usual...
My life is grey. and I fucking hate that. I want to live in black and white, or color so intense the eye can barely see it and the mind struggles to comprehend it...
But he taught me that anything can be grey...Grey is that place where your lifetime love meets that which hates you with all it's heart and soul but also loves you...Grey is that place where you want nothing more than escape, yet at the same time...Maybe you don't...Grey is an eternal fucking limbo where everything you believed collides with everything that is and none of it makes sense. Grey is wanting to run away and slit your wrists but being in love with a past which is no longer reality. Grey is, "his limits are mine" until you realize that you never actually knew his limits...Grey is needing submission to the core of your being and questioning what you are every day of your life because you drew the line somewhere... Grey is when you have sweated in sheets and screamed someones name for nearly twenty years while they lovingly whispered in you ear what a whore you were, only to someday hear them scream at you that you are merely a worthless whore whom they wish would die.
Grey is being in love with a memory that hates you but is still in love with you and won't let you go.
And yea, I'm in love with a sadist who once broke my heart. But I feel like I can't write that here...Cuz the various shades of grey will appear to rub salt in the open wounds of what was, was is, and what will be.
So until the next time...If you used to read and you're curious about where we landed, this sums it up pretty damn well. Except for the she don't give a shit bit. Cuz I always give a shit. And that's one of the reasons I despise grey.
I used to believe that life was black and white. I prefer to see the world in terms of black and white. It's simple. Right, wrong; love, hate; black and white. But he taught me that there is grey. I fucking hate grey. And fuck 50 shades of grey for acting like grey is cool, but I digress, as usual...
My life is grey. and I fucking hate that. I want to live in black and white, or color so intense the eye can barely see it and the mind struggles to comprehend it...
But he taught me that anything can be grey...Grey is that place where your lifetime love meets that which hates you with all it's heart and soul but also loves you...Grey is that place where you want nothing more than escape, yet at the same time...Maybe you don't...Grey is an eternal fucking limbo where everything you believed collides with everything that is and none of it makes sense. Grey is wanting to run away and slit your wrists but being in love with a past which is no longer reality. Grey is, "his limits are mine" until you realize that you never actually knew his limits...Grey is needing submission to the core of your being and questioning what you are every day of your life because you drew the line somewhere... Grey is when you have sweated in sheets and screamed someones name for nearly twenty years while they lovingly whispered in you ear what a whore you were, only to someday hear them scream at you that you are merely a worthless whore whom they wish would die.
Grey is being in love with a memory that hates you but is still in love with you and won't let you go.
And yea, I'm in love with a sadist who once broke my heart. But I feel like I can't write that here...Cuz the various shades of grey will appear to rub salt in the open wounds of what was, was is, and what will be.
So until the next time...If you used to read and you're curious about where we landed, this sums it up pretty damn well. Except for the she don't give a shit bit. Cuz I always give a shit. And that's one of the reasons I despise grey.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Saturday, January 27, 2018
It's been a while...
It has been a considerable amount of time since I have posted here...As considerable as that time may be, I feel that it is somewhat minute in comparison to the changes my life has undergone since August.
Part of my reticence in writing here is due to the knowledge that what I write is likely to be used against me. I have only ever written what was truly me here, and I prefer to express silence over falsehoods, because at least that is genuine.
If you read me before, and you're reading me now, I just wish for you to know that my life has unimaginably and irrevocably changed, and I miss this space. I miss you reading me, your thoughts and words, and I'm not gone. Just lost. This place is still mine, and I have neither forgotten nor abandoned it.
Part of my reticence in writing here is due to the knowledge that what I write is likely to be used against me. I have only ever written what was truly me here, and I prefer to express silence over falsehoods, because at least that is genuine.
If you read me before, and you're reading me now, I just wish for you to know that my life has unimaginably and irrevocably changed, and I miss this space. I miss you reading me, your thoughts and words, and I'm not gone. Just lost. This place is still mine, and I have neither forgotten nor abandoned it.
Monday, December 25, 2017
Little One,
I have lost the will to live.....You have taken it from me.....You took off your collar......You are no longer mine...... I thought I was the best....
I guess fucking not. You fell in love with her....You fell in love with him......Why the fuck was I not enough.
Years ago you stopped going into space for me....It was always my fault....I was doing it wrong.
Fact is you don't love me, You love the Ideal of me.....
You told me that b didn't love me......that she was just a soul sucking cunt that ruined your life....
You gave her to me.....Said she was your gift to me, and I your gift to her.
Then you took her away.
You want me to be miserable. Its the only time you smile. That and when your with her.
You took all your submission and gave it to a stupid fucking little boy that will never be half the man I am let alone a dom...He is a piece of shit. Never deserved your love.....but you took him from me too......Just like you took B.
You take everything I love away from me......The only thing I am allowed to love is what you say.
You topped from the bottom our whole relationship.....Always telling me I was doing It wrong.
You took your submission from me and gave it to that little piece of shit boy......when he didn't want it.....I couldn't console you......you had to run to her.......you don't give a shit about me......i'm just a fixture in your life that you don't want to be without...
I want to fucking die......you told me that B was killing us.....But you share her bed now.....will not even take your clothes off in mine.....I want to fucking die........Merry Fucking Christmas.
You will not even let me walk away and have another......yes little one, she does love me, and her collar is the most important thing she has ever had.....but it doesnt matter cause shes just a week little street whore.........She couldn't possibly love me, you have shown me that I am unworthy of love.
I want to die......thanks for the lie.
Yours Truly,
The Piece of Shit you used to call master
Alpha
I have lost the will to live.....You have taken it from me.....You took off your collar......You are no longer mine...... I thought I was the best....
I guess fucking not. You fell in love with her....You fell in love with him......Why the fuck was I not enough.
Years ago you stopped going into space for me....It was always my fault....I was doing it wrong.
Fact is you don't love me, You love the Ideal of me.....
You told me that b didn't love me......that she was just a soul sucking cunt that ruined your life....
You gave her to me.....Said she was your gift to me, and I your gift to her.
Then you took her away.
You want me to be miserable. Its the only time you smile. That and when your with her.
You took all your submission and gave it to a stupid fucking little boy that will never be half the man I am let alone a dom...He is a piece of shit. Never deserved your love.....but you took him from me too......Just like you took B.
You take everything I love away from me......The only thing I am allowed to love is what you say.
You topped from the bottom our whole relationship.....Always telling me I was doing It wrong.
You took your submission from me and gave it to that little piece of shit boy......when he didn't want it.....I couldn't console you......you had to run to her.......you don't give a shit about me......i'm just a fixture in your life that you don't want to be without...
I want to fucking die......you told me that B was killing us.....But you share her bed now.....will not even take your clothes off in mine.....I want to fucking die........Merry Fucking Christmas.
You will not even let me walk away and have another......yes little one, she does love me, and her collar is the most important thing she has ever had.....but it doesnt matter cause shes just a week little street whore.........She couldn't possibly love me, you have shown me that I am unworthy of love.
I want to die......thanks for the lie.
Yours Truly,
The Piece of Shit you used to call master
Alpha
Thursday, August 24, 2017
Tired
Irony. Life is full of irony. Most of it bitter lol.
Lost Boy (Omega just doesn't work, he'll always be the gorgeous cold fucking lost boy) ran. And I'm pretty sure my marriage is over. And life is kind of fucking lonely. And sad. And ironic.
There's four of us in this picture, you see--Alpha, me, her, Lost Boy. And the most bitter irony of all, is that we're all going to end up alone.
She won't have Alpha after he leaves me. And Lost Boy will chase a love who thinks she can sooth that beast to sleep forever, and he thinks he can keep it asleep, but he can't because if he could I'd have never felt that hunger from him in the first place. Eventually he'll break her heart and hate himself for it, and while he'll never know how deeply he destroyed me, he will see every bit of her heartache.
They were both angry with me, her and Alpha. Because I won't tell Lost Boy what he's done to me, the destruction he's caused...They wanted to know why, and I didn't really tell them.
In part, it's because I let that stupid lovely cold fucking boy see me, and run his fingers through my fucking soul, and maybe I just couldn't bare that pain to him. More than anything though, I wanted him to leave me with something good. I wanted him to leave me knowing that I'd always fucking love him and want him to be happy and I'd never close the door. I didn't want him to leave me carrying my pain. I wanted even just one of us to walk away with something lovely and light. So I didn't tell him how very badly he fucked me up. And he's not speaking to me, so it's kind of a moot point...Suffice to say, I'm emotionally retarded and it feels like I let that boy rip out pieces of my fucking soul.
Alpha and I no longer make each other happy. All the trappings we use to define relationships aside, it is important to be kind to each other. And I'm afraid that we're reaching the point where there's no recovery from the awful things we've repeated over and over.
These days we are D/s whenever it is convenient to the one making the claim to assign the blame.
There's nothing left for me here. Besides a good high school with awesome teachers for my eldest. Alpha works in another state, Lost boy is leaving, my work all seems to be across state lines, and our lease is up October first and will not be renewable...I need to make a decision. Alpha wants to keep a household here for a year, but he will be living in another state for work come January regardless. I need to pick an area code. I need to base that decision on what's best for my kids. And I don't know...I've given myself until the end of next week to make a decision.
I am so fucking tired. Through my bones and my stupid broken heart, to the depths of my fucking soul. I am tired. So very goddamned tired.
Lost Boy (Omega just doesn't work, he'll always be the gorgeous cold fucking lost boy) ran. And I'm pretty sure my marriage is over. And life is kind of fucking lonely. And sad. And ironic.
There's four of us in this picture, you see--Alpha, me, her, Lost Boy. And the most bitter irony of all, is that we're all going to end up alone.
She won't have Alpha after he leaves me. And Lost Boy will chase a love who thinks she can sooth that beast to sleep forever, and he thinks he can keep it asleep, but he can't because if he could I'd have never felt that hunger from him in the first place. Eventually he'll break her heart and hate himself for it, and while he'll never know how deeply he destroyed me, he will see every bit of her heartache.
They were both angry with me, her and Alpha. Because I won't tell Lost Boy what he's done to me, the destruction he's caused...They wanted to know why, and I didn't really tell them.
In part, it's because I let that stupid lovely cold fucking boy see me, and run his fingers through my fucking soul, and maybe I just couldn't bare that pain to him. More than anything though, I wanted him to leave me with something good. I wanted him to leave me knowing that I'd always fucking love him and want him to be happy and I'd never close the door. I didn't want him to leave me carrying my pain. I wanted even just one of us to walk away with something lovely and light. So I didn't tell him how very badly he fucked me up. And he's not speaking to me, so it's kind of a moot point...Suffice to say, I'm emotionally retarded and it feels like I let that boy rip out pieces of my fucking soul.
Alpha and I no longer make each other happy. All the trappings we use to define relationships aside, it is important to be kind to each other. And I'm afraid that we're reaching the point where there's no recovery from the awful things we've repeated over and over.
These days we are D/s whenever it is convenient to the one making the claim to assign the blame.
There's nothing left for me here. Besides a good high school with awesome teachers for my eldest. Alpha works in another state, Lost boy is leaving, my work all seems to be across state lines, and our lease is up October first and will not be renewable...I need to make a decision. Alpha wants to keep a household here for a year, but he will be living in another state for work come January regardless. I need to pick an area code. I need to base that decision on what's best for my kids. And I don't know...I've given myself until the end of next week to make a decision.
I am so fucking tired. Through my bones and my stupid broken heart, to the depths of my fucking soul. I am tired. So very goddamned tired.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Monday, July 24, 2017
Dancing on the Edge
She said she missed the way I live on the edge.
He said he loved me and wasn't in love with me, but wanted to fuck me. Sex, nothing more. Nothing less. Then he said it didn't feel okay and walked away.
Alpha said it was okay. Then it wasn't.
They enjoy the way I dance on the edge
until they get too close.
careful darlin with what you broke
my edges are jagged and shattered
and I'll not hesitate to lick the blood from your fingertips
as it slowly drips
taste your sorrows upon my lips
just...Dig your fingers into my hips
and let the facade slip.
They like the way I live on the edge,
dance with the demons in my head
until they get close to my bed
there are dangers under my pillow
monsters in the closets
under my bed a story of wins and losses
never forgotten tales of forsaken causes.
Wander these city streets, feel the pavement beneath my feet
listen to my own words echoing through my mind...
I wish you loved me like you used to
don't let that motherfucker slide
I'm scarred as fuck and you're afraid I'll ask you to put the pieces back together
I love you
I'm sorry the world's gone to shit kid
I'm fine
your aunt stabbed herself in front of the little one last night
fuck with me some more and I'ma fuck you up
read me at your own risk
what's a nice kid like you doing in a place like this
sorry I got tanked and lost my shit
breathe through the panic,
the kids are good, 4.0 students all day long
I want you
fuck you
I'm sorry our life isn't normal kiddo
I am damn good at what I do
normal is overrated and easily debated
touch me and I'll stick a pair of scissors in your fucking leg
we'll all do whatever we have to to survive baby
I'm about to throw my phone through the damn wall
fuck me
I'm tired of being lonely
I'm sorry
please
They like to watch me dance on the edge
receive an invite to my bed
fuck a little bit with my head
watch me see red.
I'll sing for you, bleed for you, shatter my dreams for you
lick the blood off these bones, in midnight's twilight we are all alone
searching for something to call home
looking for an escape from the ache of this place
I am no cookie cutter queen with rainbow dreams
I am the teeth chewing at my own seams
the grey area in between
you and me
and all the things we don't want to see.
He said he loved me and wasn't in love with me, but wanted to fuck me. Sex, nothing more. Nothing less. Then he said it didn't feel okay and walked away.
Alpha said it was okay. Then it wasn't.
They enjoy the way I dance on the edge
until they get too close.
careful darlin with what you broke
my edges are jagged and shattered
and I'll not hesitate to lick the blood from your fingertips
as it slowly drips
taste your sorrows upon my lips
just...Dig your fingers into my hips
and let the facade slip.
They like the way I live on the edge,
dance with the demons in my head
until they get close to my bed
there are dangers under my pillow
monsters in the closets
under my bed a story of wins and losses
never forgotten tales of forsaken causes.
Wander these city streets, feel the pavement beneath my feet
listen to my own words echoing through my mind...
I wish you loved me like you used to
don't let that motherfucker slide
I'm scarred as fuck and you're afraid I'll ask you to put the pieces back together
I love you
I'm sorry the world's gone to shit kid
I'm fine
your aunt stabbed herself in front of the little one last night
fuck with me some more and I'ma fuck you up
read me at your own risk
what's a nice kid like you doing in a place like this
sorry I got tanked and lost my shit
breathe through the panic,
the kids are good, 4.0 students all day long
I want you
fuck you
I'm sorry our life isn't normal kiddo
I am damn good at what I do
normal is overrated and easily debated
touch me and I'll stick a pair of scissors in your fucking leg
we'll all do whatever we have to to survive baby
I'm about to throw my phone through the damn wall
fuck me
I'm tired of being lonely
I'm sorry
please
They like to watch me dance on the edge
receive an invite to my bed
fuck a little bit with my head
watch me see red.
I'll sing for you, bleed for you, shatter my dreams for you
lick the blood off these bones, in midnight's twilight we are all alone
searching for something to call home
looking for an escape from the ache of this place
I am no cookie cutter queen with rainbow dreams
I am the teeth chewing at my own seams
the grey area in between
you and me
and all the things we don't want to see.
Wednesday, June 7, 2017
No One Tells Little Girls...
Sitting here...
what's one more night alone and on my own?
wrap broken wings around myself
sitting unwanted and saved upon the shelf.
No one tells little girls that love hurts so goddamn bad
no one tells little girls how boys with big brown eyes will rip your heart out
and dance upon your soul
holding to themselves that which could make you whole.
No one tells little girls that the boy with the beautiful eyes will feed you to his demons
leaving you with neither rhyme nor reason.
No one tells little girls what it's going to be like to be a junkyard dog covered in scars
in a world which values beauty and nice cars.
No one tells little girls that fairy tales die
and that maybe forever, always, and everything is a lie.
No one tells little girls that love will break them
that the boys with beautiful brown eyes will always be searching for something else
that the broken toys, the girls with all the scars, will never live up to the fancy cars
that love is a goddamned war
and her heart will be a traitorous fucking whore
that they'll always be too much and never enough.
No one tells little girls
that they will hand that beautiful brown eyed boy their heart on a platter
and watch it be sliced into pieces and fed to the demons
that love completely lacks in rhyme and reason.
Why doesn't anyone tell little girls that their hearts are going to be battlegrounds
fighting an eternal war when that beautiful boy doesn't come around
that no one will hear the sound
as they wrap broken dreams around themselves like wings
forever waiting for some beautiful brown eyed boy to come around?
Why don't we tell little girls that those gorgeous fucking boys with big brown eyes
who smell like smoke and taste like hope,
who dance through their dreams and change their perception of reality,
are going to make their souls bleed with need?
No one told me
that the girl I'd become would be a junkyard dog
in a world full of purebreds
waiting by the side of some gorgeous brown eyed boys bed
needing to feed a hunger that cannot be fed.
No one told me that love could be so all goddamned consuming
that I'd spend so many nights alone on my knees
knowing that I was not the one chosen to please.
No one tells little girls
that those divinely delicious boys with big brown eyes
who taste like hope and smell like smoke
will have them crawling endlessly to feed a need sated by others
and goddamn the mothers
who don't tell little girls
that they love only at their own peril.
My father knew
that I would be a junkyard dog with the heart of a whore,
little more than a casualty in loves fucked up war.
But he thought that I would inspire
lift somebody in this world up a little bit higher...
The truth is darlin,
that I'm just a girl who dared to love as a junkyard dog does
but nobody wants to live and love in a junkyard of broken cars
that an aging little girl covered in scars, who cares not for fancy cars...
She's a dream unseen, some other kind of being
who will never belong, cursed to always long
for boys with big brown eyes
who smell like smoke
and taste like hope
but really, those beautiful brown eyed fucking boys are just the hanging rope.
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