Come on, Eros, are you on a coffee break?

The truth has been spoken. My grandmother has this idea that women are nothing if they are single, that we are defined by being in a relationship. The last time I saw her she hissed at my friend behind my back, "look how fat she's gotten, it's because she got dumped." *^* wtf, grandma...

All up on my Soapbox Tonight

I know I am like, all about blog entries tonight, so sue me. But I keep thinking of shit I should have blogged over the last like...year O.o

So, that soapbox I be standing on.


I promise I have never met one woman who would EVER consider tampons, pads, feminine wipes, etc a fucking luxury. The idea that there is a "luxury" tax on feminine products pisses me off SO. MUCH. Like think about it for a second...if an organ in a man's body RIPPED open, started bleeding, making him bloated and cramping and craving and achey and cranky, he'd go running, crying to the hospital. We do that shit EVERY MONTH while taking care of our kids, going to work, cleaning the house, doing the grocery shopping, going to school, and a thousand thousand other things and then...you want to charge us extra for the shit we need to for that? The menstrual cycle isn't a choice, boo, it's a fucking biological curse that, btw...women take on so all you conservative old white men could be fucking born. 

THIS RIGHT HERE

FUCKING THIS....

I'm a Hawk again!

Not a literal hawk, of course, but I am going back to school, where we happen to be the Hawks lol. Back in college. Again. Been at it six years now. It's an artsy semester for me.



I have African Art, one of the last classes I have for my Art History degree. Aside from the legit art classes. Since apparently they are unaware that if I could do any kind of decent art, I'd be an artist not an Art History minor!





Then there's poetry workshop as in I get to write lots of poems and then let my classmates critique them. I don't even like showing my friends for fear of judgement, so this ought to be interesting. 




Then there's World Music lol. So it's an artsy semester. People underestimate the workload in artsy classes. They assume they're easy. They're not easy. You memorize a thousand paintings, who did them, where they were done, the year they were done in and then a thousand musicians and songs and write a thousand poems on demand...then come talk to me.

Don't Judge Me, Burlesque is the Best

https://open.spotify.com/track/3my8nYpb74vfIPyRPo0zVq

Since when can Storm Troopers hit anything???

So I have been meaning to post a response to the new Star Wars film. If you haven't seen it yet...stop reading.

#spoileralert



First off, I love it. It's a damn good film. Most hilarious Star Wars film I've ever seen. The humor in this film wasn't just spot on but dispersed so perfectly throughout the piece that you're guaranteed to be smiling in between each period of emotional distress. The acting in this, the ability the actors displayed to deliver the right emotions, the right humor, the right tones and actions was really impressive. 

These new characters were fantastic additions to our classic SW favorites. Finn was priceless, I adore him. He's a lovable dork with moments of loyalty and badassery that will make anyone love him. Loving the intro of another strong female character, BLESS YOU WRITERS, a female Jedi is a lead character, I'm thrilled. Poe was great, BB-8 was adorable, omg. Kylo Ren, or young Severus as he appears, is a drama Queen of the First Order (yeah, see what I did there? :D)

Han. I can't even discuss Han. Still not over it. Too soon. Too fucking soon. If you saw the movie, you know what the fuck I mean. i knew it was coming, I knew it the moment Leia said "bring our son home" I knew it. STILL COULDN'T HANDLE IT. Chewie's response was what got me.

Honestly, I wanted to see this film again the second I left the theater. It's that good. It's so. freaking. good. It was perfect. The Star Wars fandom has arisen from the deep and there's no stopping us now. 

Mistakes were made, Regrets were had, and now there are Revelations

Looking back on my posts from days long past I see that this has been less a blog and more an ongoing diary of someone in an abusive, miserable relationship. An all consuming monstrosity of a so-called love. Reading those posts now I recognize the signs, I see the truth of it. I see the madness of someone trapped in Hell and not understanding where they're standing, that what they're facing, that the life they're living is wrong, toxic, a death sentence. I am ashamed of it, I regret it, I loathe it. But I won't delete it. Those posts remind me where I've been...and that where I am going is automatically better simply by being NOT THERE. 

Vodka and Regrets

            What are you supposed to do when you have nothing to live for anymore? When there is no one left in your life to turn to? No one there to talk you down or be your rock when you need some weight to keep you from floating away? What the fuck are you supposed to do when the one person who is supposed to be there for you is such a self centered ass that all they can see is how YOUR pain affects THEM? And that’s all they care about. Sure they make a lot of bluster about how they’re trying to be there for you, they’re trying to be what you need, but they’re not. They’re just pissed because they’re not the center of your attention. That pesky depression is taking up all your time. And how dare you? I mean, really, what’s your mental health compared to their need to be babied and given attention constantly like some fucking four year old in an adult body. They’re exactly the wrong type of person for you and you know it but that doesn't change how you feel. The heart wants what it wants. And often enough your heart is an idiot. We fall for people that are not what we need. We fall for people that don’t love us like we love them. Sure sometimes they come around but the books are never even. You've always got more in your outgoing account than you do your incoming because you started paying out long before they did. So, it’s three thirty in the morning, you’re fucking tired but you’re too upset and angry to sleep. You never sleep anymore anyway. And three fucking thirty in the morning seems like a fine time to pull out that bottle of vodka while asshole is in the other room pouting like a little bitch because you’re mad at him. He doesn't care why you’re upset, it’s all so unfair to him. Isn't it, though? It’s not as if you’re sick and fucking tired of standing in the same place while the world moves on, piling more and more shit on top of you, trying to break you when inside you’re already so broken how could you even start on the outside world, but he doesn't care. He cares that you've been neglecting him. Which you have. Because there are days that you can’t even get out of bed without wanting to scream and cry and drink yourself blind but all he cares about is what he is not getting not why he is getting it. He is never there for you. Every time he says he is, you know it’s not true. He is there for himself. But he doesn't like it when you tell him what he feels. No matter how many times you've been right. You’re never right til he says you are. Feminism at it’s finest, truly. A woman can only be right if a man agrees. So you’re sitting here and you’re sipping your vodka. It’s as bitter as your fucking life and that works for you. If it was storming outside would be better. Storming, dark, cold, vodka, hate, anger, pain, misery, hopeless. And music. Can’t forget the music. You have to have the music because it speaks for you. It soothes you. It takes your feelings and gives them away. And slowly, the anger starts to dissipate and in it’s place you find all the sadness, the neverending ache that just stays inside you making you feel miserable all the time. There’s no hope. You know it but that heart, it’s an idiot. And all the time it tries to feel hopeful, it tries to look on the bright side, but every little step in that direction is countermanded with such force and shame and pain that you’re knocked back even farther than before. So what do you do? Where do you turn? Nowhere but to yourself. You have to. But you don’t know how. You haven’t looked inward and found strength there in so many years that you wouldn't have any idea how to bring it out again. It must be there somewhere, you believe that, you have to. If you can’t, if you don’t, then how would you even try? Can you try? How would you begin? There seem to be no answers. So you just take another drink. It’s been a long time since you turned to alcohol as an answer. It isn't an answer now. You know it. But what else can you do? Tonight, there is nothing that can be done except to try to prepare yourself for the sun when it comes, then you’ll have a choice to make. Go back and die slowly, every day, losing a little more of yourself, or move forward, move on, find your own strength and take no shit, take a lot of names and leave a mark that will not soon be forgotten. But do you have it in you? Are you too broken to take that step by now? Are you doomed to desire a freedom and a life that you can never have? 

Say My Name

I always think this is it; I can't take it anymore; I can't do this, I don't want to, I won't. But in the end, I always take some more; I always keep trying; my threshold hasn't been hit yet.  Being with him somehow ends up being more important than the pain. Even though the pain never ends. Every day a little more settles on top. I don't know how I do it anymore. I don't know how I calm down and remember I don't want to be alone. There is no worse disappointment than realizing someone you love more than anything doesn't deserve that love afterall. Your rough edged rebel with the heart of gold turned out to be harboring some cheap gold plated piece of coal inside. Every good glimmer you pan for is just more fool's gold mocking your love, your devotion, your hope. You can't keep track of all the lies. He may not even know the difference anymore. There's no where to run. You cannot hide. You can struggle, you can fight, you can try to claw, climb and dig your way out of the hole but there is no escape. Even if you got out, you'd come running back. 

All good things come to an end...but is that really necessary?

Why exactly must all good things come to an end? I mean, if it was necessarily to make room for better things, ok, that's great then but why is it that we expect, we know, if we are wise, that from the start of anything, it will inevitably come to an end? Should we not go into it with the shred of hope that somehow it will endure? Is it even possible for something to last? Should anything last forever? It feels like it should.

Well I did it

I went back and viewed my old posts. Some were worse than others, but overall I got one distinct impression. As unhappy as I thought I was back then...it doesn't even compare to how I feel now. That legitimately scares me. I have been in a few really bad places before. The fact that I can clearly see how well I was holding on then...and how poorly I am holding on now...makes me worry. Maybe blogging is going to help get out some of that fog that's sitting inside me and obscuring everything so I can't think, can't work through how I feel, can't ground myself.

On a different note, saw this line in an old post:

"If you get bitten in the ass by Luna Lovegood, lovey good things will happen to you." 

Now that is gold. 

It's been quite a long time

I am under no impression that being older and hopefully wiser will have heightened my chances of readers. The death of this blog came years ago at a time in which I didn't need a blog. I had friends, I had people I could talk to, perhaps not my every thought and secret, but people to say something to. Now, it's 2015 and I have no one, no family, no friends, no one to share with. Now I need this blog. If only to feel almost like I am speaking to someone. No one is there, that's certain enough. I'm not like one of those people who make a blog or youtube videos and end up with their own tv show. If anything, I'm more a deranged college drop out pretending they're talking to real people to make themselves feel better. I'm a little worried about browsing my old posts. If I recall, I was a freshman in college the last time I used this blog, when there were still little hopes and dreams floating in my periphery like little beacons leading me forward even when I was sure there was no where to go. But they've long since vanished and left me standing in this one place, scared, alone, shaken, broken. A few months back, my father died. We lost our house shortly after. I'm holding up in Sacramento now, hometown has been left behind but it didn't hurt as much as I expected because as it turns out all these years, my supreme attachment to it wasn't that I was born and raised there. Sure, I love it for that, but my attachment to it was my friends, the people I thought were my real family. But in the end, blood and chosen both walked out on me. Now it's just the town I was born in. Not a place I need to be to be whole. Now I could live anywhere. Because I have nothing to tie me anywhere. Well, I could live anywhere if I could afford it. I think I will have to move this time next year, truth be told. Rent is high. I never envisioned this kind of loneliness again. Only it's worse now, with my dad gone. We had our issues (mostly that we were too much alike) but he was my constant. My mom left us. My sister left us. But my daddy never left me, not until he died. I watched him die. I wish I hadn't. There was no goodbye, no time to say anything. I wish I could have thanked him for always being there for me, even if I wasn't the best daughter, he was the best dad in the world. My one source of unconditional love. Now, I'm a broke bitch with depression and anger issues and oddly enough all these years I thought secretly that everyone's love was entirely conditional, I wasn't wrong. I look around and find myself standing here entirely alone. My so called family is gone, my so called friends are gone, not even a text or a FB message to pretend as though they aren't. My closest friends now are people I have never met and by closest I mean, we occasionally chat over a post on Facebook. Overwhelmingly close, that. Everywhere I look I see pictures and reminders of the things I've lost. I don't know how to not see them, I can't get rid of them, it would hurt too much. As if the memory of love can hold me over for the rest of my existence. Only was it ever love at all if it was so easy to leave? My family just up and left, never spoke another word, clean cut, and I can live with that. But my friends? No official goodbye, it's more like oh yeah, we're still friends, totally, even if we never want to see you again, never talk to you, and won't even pay you more notice than random people online we don't even know. Have I mentioned we've been friends for the past decade? My crime? Depression. I guess I'm bringing them down. I get that. Don't want me around, sure. But cutting me off entirely and copping out of it at the same time by not admitting that's what it is? Yeah, ok. I have my dogs and my cats...4 of the former and 2 of the latter. There's the oldest, Shiloe, she is my willful old lady. She pretends to be deaf and does whatever she wants. I kind of let her half the time because she's 14 and she has cancer, though she manages to be quite sprightly when she wants to be. Jake is my old man, Shiloe's son, he is 10. He is a nightmare. He never listens. Barks at everyone. But he is the most loyal dog on the planet. Tootse is next, she is 6, Jake's daughter, Shiloe's granddaughter. She is my little angel. Little yappy though, but so cute, you forget that. All purebred rat terriers, those three. Then there's my chihuahua, Salem. Adorable nuisance. Wants to be the alpha, very sneaky about it. Should have named him Loki. He's 3. Then there's the babies, my kittens, Trick and Stitch. Gorgeous black ragdoll mixes. My only really well behaved pets. Trick is beautiful. His coat is red underneath, very fluffy. He is also massive. 5 months old and he is bigger than some full grown cats I've had. That's my family, those 6. As you can imagine, none of them talk back. The more I have no one to talk to, the crazier I feel, and the closer to exploding I feel. Which brings me back to the point of this blog post. I need the blog now. I need to talk. Even if I'm really just talking to myself. 

Hello, dear Apocalypse, where have you been?

So, my boyfriend is into the whole zombie thing. Obsessed, really. Its oddly charming. Now, I rather hate zombies, they freak me out. However, he has me rather firmly seated in the whole lets be ready for zombies! craze and he is really good at playing into my paranoia about being overly prepared for any and all emergency situations. So, why not? Kind of a cute thing to bond over, right? Now, if he wants a zombie wedding...nope, nope, nope. I can wait for the apocalypse to be filthy and carrying a machete everywhere I go.

Ooh, Zombies, Zombies everywhere!

Zombie Pandemic
Zombie Pandemic

Will you survive the zombie apocalypse?

Updates in the Life of the Wanna-Be-Author

One - I am missing the letter p and most of the punctuation from my keyboard due to water being dumped on the poor thing at my 21st birthday. Which brings us to the second update!

I turned 21! Wicked, right? Now I just need the ID that says Im 21. Like Mark says "you arent REALLY 21 until you have the ID to prove it"

I got my first tattoo. Damned awful experience, really. The tattoo artist had an immediate dislike for me. I cant imagine why. Clearly my charming personality was lost on him. He seemed to be terribly annoyed at having to come into work and stormed into the building late. First sign that this wasnt going to be so pleasant. It took him half and hour to call me over at which point he revealed that he hadn't done his own sketch and was simply going to apply my original sketch directly to my calf. the look on my face was rather like "oh.....you don't say..." but I went with it. I didnt pay attention to his improvised shading because I was far to preoccupied with the fact that he was pushing far deeper than necessary and seemed to relish the pain he was causing me. My friends were watching in what I read as horror while he worked. Confirmed later. I was far too stubborn to ask him to be a little gentler and chance him giving me another look that screamed girls shouldn't get tattoos! He pushed all the harder when my leg shook. Not my fault, I have no control over shaking when my body goes into shock. Your leg would move too if it were being drilled into, lol. By the end, I was ready to scream or pass out but I was determined not to, because it would only give him the satisfaction of knowing I couldn't quite handle it. I limped away from the table after over an hour of this and then had the pleasure of watching him very, very gently put a flower on my blonde best friends ass (she has really perky tits, btw) Like Baywatch ones.

Finally got my ears pierced again, lol. Not what I expected either. I was thinking they'd do a gun like back when I was ten. Oh no, it was a big ass needle they shoved through my ears. Hurt like a bitch! Too bad I didn't realize I needed to eat before I did that. Damn near passed out from low blood sugar. BUT they look great and they're healing great, so lesson learned and happy ending there.

I'm getting close to my 2 year anniversary now. Never thought I would be able to say that. But it is wonderful to be in love. Despite all the crap that comes with being in a relationship, when there is love, its all worth it. Every day its worth it. Good stuff, right?

Since the last time I posted, I lost two of my babies. My patches was 12 years old, ancient for a big breed. My little Rosie was barely 2. I was devastated. I still cant think about them without crying.

Life has been hectic these days....so much to do, so much to forget, so much to struggle through, that blogging hasn't been a priority in quite some time. I miss vlogging but I'm webcamless now, so might as well get back in the habit of blogging the old fashioned way. lol. Maybe even REALLY old fashioned. Like writing in a diary, like when I was a kid.  

So, I'm Not a Twilighter

However, way back in the day, when Twilight first made it out on the scene, I got dragged into watching the films because my closest friends were Twilighters. Not Twi-hards, thank the gods, but Twilighters to a mid-level of craziness extent. And ever since, I've watched each film that comes out. Luckily, they do get better from the beginning. The first one, is complete and absolute crap;. It looks cheap and poorly done. I hate the books, btw, so if you're a big Twilight fan, run far away from me, I won't say many good things. Now I don't hate Twilight, mind you. I think the author is just terrible. The writing stinks. The two main characters are so annoying that the whole time you're reading OR watching, you kind of want them to just up and die. BUT, the side characters are actually more than decent. They're fun and entertaining and interesting. And they're the reason to watch the movies. Because it'll make you laugh and you enjoy everyone outside of Bella and Edward, a.k.a. Ms. Apathetic Addict and Sir Misplaced Knight Complex. My extreme dislike for Bella and Edward was potent and vicious up until the most recent film, in which I gained mild respect for Bella's character when she becomes a new mom, determined to keep her blood sucking offspring. Edward, still hate him. But, all this hate goin' round is probably why in the most recent film, the best so far, we kind of get this sick satisfaction and pleasure out of watching Edward essentially rip Bella open. It's pretty graphic and gross. But Bella finally dies. Doesn't stay dead. But dies. And I think most of us enjoyed watching it happen. The rest of us, may not have been "oh yay, the wicked witch is dead" but everyone is happy for her to finally be a freakin vampire. Because we were all hoping it'd make her less annoying. P.S. Stephanie Meyer, you treated Jacob like crap throughout your damned series.....and THEN you saddled him with an infant bride. It was SO creepy watching him fall in love instantly....with a baby. That was just weird as all Hell to watch. And it looked like it was weird as all Hell for him too. It was pretty damn funny watching Bella try desperately to get into Edward's pants. She clearly likes it rough. And as always, Bella's dad is seriously funny. Poor guy, sending his barely legal daughter off to get laid on a private island. For a side character, he is a favorite for many. But Twilight is all about side characters. Because it's just hard to tolerate the two main ones. Edward....stop choosing chess over sex. There really isn't a comparison. Well, for now that concludes my ramble on Twilight's latest. Dear Twihards who may stumble onto my post....don't bitch at me. I don't care if you like Bella or Twilight "changed your life", that's fine with me. Opinions can be different. Spice of life and all that. Diversity is good. Yada, yada, peace and all that jazz.

Got My Ass Squeezed By Sexy Cupid

Love means giving someone your heart and the map of where to cut you the deepest, where it will hurt the most. And you hope to the Gods that they wont do it. And when they do cut your heart open, it hurts so badly that there aren't words to describe it and you can't even fathom what you ever did, in loving them, that it caused them to do it. Then those that have left you with the greatest scars, those that tell you that you have disappointed them or that make you feel as if you have.....they then tell you how much they care for you and somehow....that only cuts deeper.

It is when those that are closest to us do the hurting that our pain is the most excruciating. I always felt like a pet. Like a pet that no matter how hard I tried to do everything I could to make everyone happy, I was never good enough. In the arms of the one I love, I do not feel that way. Sometimes I want to curl up in his arms and stay there forever, rather than face the world where I disappoint everyone in my life. There is the only place that I feel safe and loved.

Love means needing to be with someone at your best, at your worst, and all the spaces in between. And at theirs. You don't want to spend a moment without them and yet you are so afraid that you'll scare them away that at times you feel over clingy and at others you feel too distant. When they love you back, they want to be with you just as much. But when you're insecure, you don't trust that as well as you should, though likely will come to if given time.

It is the damage of the past that leaves us with the scars that hinder us in the future. Past relationships, past encounters, past dealings, past friendships, past human-type creatures influence how we are with new human-type creatures. Just because the first one left, doesn't mean they all will. Just because LoserA cheated, doesn't mean Potentially-A-LoserB will. Just because BFF5 left you for a new friend, doesn't mean BFF26 will do the same, though if you're on BFF26, there could be a trend here in the people you are choosing.

Love means wanting them to be happy even when that doesn't include being with you, means caring more about their welfare than your own. That means being willing to take a bullet for them, hurtling metal or figurative. It means wishing them well with someone else even when in your heart, you're hurting so badly, you want to tear the damned blood-pumping organ out of your chest. It means standing by and staying close and being a friend when in the deepest crevices of your dying soul, all you want to be is their everything, as they are yours. It means more than being willing to walk through Tartarus to bring them water. It means begging Hades to trade their soul for yours.

"You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."



"Like everybody who is not in love, he thought one chose the person to be loved after endless deliberations and on the basis of particular qualities or advantages."

"Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires."

"I believe in the compelling power of love. I do not understand it. I believe it to be the most fragrant blossom of all this thorny existence."

"In love the paradox occurs that two beings become one and yet remain two."

Love means more than just wanting to tell someone you love them or even telling them what is in your heart. It means trying again and again to explain the depth of those feelings even when you don't know how and reminding them how much you love them regularly because you always love them. It means loving them all the time, not just sometimes. It means loving them through everything, means loving them when you're fighting, and kissing them when an argument is over.



"Love is a force more formidable than any other. It is invisible - it cannot be seen or measured, yet it is powerful enough to transform you in a moment, and offer you more joy than any material possession could."
 
"Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies."
 
"Love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the Gods."

"Love is the magician that pulls man out of his own hat."
 
"Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place."
 
"Love that is not madness is not love."

Put Away the Vacuum

   Life is one big mess. We're all individual messes. Everything's just plain messy. Nothing's ever simple. Some things are just less complicated than others. We just make things simple. We put them into simple terms and make it all black and white. Simplicity doesn't really exist. Everything is a jumbled mess of emotions and choices and decisions and words and people and things. Some things are covered in dust, others are in disrepair. Your relationship may be a leaky faucet. Your home life may be an old blue van with a busted out window and a really low tire in the back. Or your life could be a happy mess. Messy isn't necessarily a bad thing. Messy can be a good thing. At some point in my messy-as-all-Hell life, the scale tipped from bad messy to better messy and then there was some weird sparkly powder thrown over everything that smells of some mythical substance called....hippieness....hiperness....Happiness! That's it. Sometimes, when you're busy digging through piles of crap and drama and chaos, happiness, or whatever it's called, sneaks up and bites you in the ass. Yay for being bitten in the ass by Cupid or fairies or whatever the hell it is that spreads love and happy feelings. I bet it's Luna Lovegood. If you get bitten in the ass by Luna Lovegood, lovey good things will happen to you. Bad joke? Yes. But you probably laughed anyway.

Pretty Sure These Are the Psychotic Droids You're Looking For

   There comes a point where you find yourself in the most interesting position in life, a special gray area that leaves you confused and spinning out of control. There's an animal inside that is interpreting that overflow of emotion as a damn good excuse to scream and fight and snarl and drink and break things. You turn the music up higher and let Nickelback and Metallica help you think violent thoughts, entertain lusty ideas and contemplate causing massive destruction. That filter in your brain that normally tells you when to shut the hell up just poofs off to Useless Land, along with all your sense and ability to function. All that control you've painstakingly trained yourself to have dives out the nearest window like Tom chasing Jerry around a really tall cartoon building. It hovers there for a second and waves at you then falls. Fast. And hits the ground. Hard. But unlike Tom, it doesn't pop back up good as new. It's in millions of little pieces. And while you're sitting there, trying desperately to form them back together into something that vaguely resembles it's previous shaping and hopefully, ability to function, all that excessive emotion turns into a tidal wave that picks you up and flings you half way across the world and so far back in time that you can barely stand up when you finally crash into unfamiliar ground. Knights of old are slashing at you, while their horses trample you. All the fight in you comes out as some kind of a mask you wear to hide away everything else and you kick some imaginary ass. When you finally claw your way back to your own familiar Hell on Earth in your own time and place, you're so exhausted and angry at your ineffectual will and strength that you just get pissed and volatile and dangerous. You're growling at everyone and doing stupid self-endangering shit you shouldn't do because when you're like this, the only thing that helps is chaos and fury and pain and passion and lust and that damned vicious and cocky attitude where you remind everyone else that you're a wolf and not a golden retriever. You can go from a sad lethargy to a frightening bloodlust in a tenth of a second and have some idiot on the floor at your feet before either of you know what's happened. You can jump to self-destructive behavior so fast it almost makes you look cool. There are so many emotions beating at your insides with little baseball bats, hammers and axes that you don't even bother trying to seperate them out and put them all in corners for time outs. It's a whole new way to go with the fucked up flow of Life, the biggest bitch you'll ever meet. She knows how to put someone through Hell and much as you want to feel like you're the match she never anticipated, you're not. She'll win in the end. But you want to drag it out and feel like you're putting up a good fight. Give her time and she'll find that one weakness that'll break you. That one thing that won't just break you. That one thing that'll break you, put you back together, break you again, and keep the cycle going. That one thing that no matter how many times it breaks you, you know you'd die without it. The one thing that you want more than anything else in the whole damn world but that can never be yours. That thing that you would die for and that one that you live for. She'll set that one thing in front of you and make you watch it be someone else's everything. When you find yourself in this interesting little gray area, there are really two options. You could walk back into the black and white area, but chances are that there's no way in Hell you're going to make it back because every step you take away from the gray area, it gets harder and harder to breathe. Or, you try to head for the super bright happy color area. But the faster you run, the further it moves away from you, or is it that just you being so scared that it will vanish that you have no idea you're only two feet from it and just aren't moving? Who the hell knows? Third option. You can just go with it and sit down in your gray area and wait for another tidal wave to carry your ass to new and interesting places.

Aveti Grija de Musca de la Ea-lup

The Wolf and The Woman




Turn the wheel and wreck the car.

Squeeze too tight and stop the heart.

Jump too soon and fall too far.

Wait too long and you’ll fly apart.



Crash and burn, it’s bound to be.

Break and bleed, til the world screams.

Watch the room shake around me.

Take my pain to my dreams.



Listen to her howl for release from her prison.

Violence will return her to sleep.

She hunts among the flock of treason.

But she never worries how many are the sheep.



Walk into the barrel of the gun,

Demand that She take the shot.

It would be foolish to run,

But love has nothing to do with thought.



Pick up the pieces and put them away.

Toss the key into the river and hope it sinks.

Still She unlocks the cage day after day.

There’s too much emotion; neither of us thinks.



Walk off the edge and hit the floor.

Need too much and the soul follows.

Love enough and you’ll just want more.

She picks up the bottle and swallows.