AriesAphrodite's blog: "So Emotional"

That was my day today... Ok there was no actual ass-fucking but I felt like I got raped by the world today! My moment of happiness was short lived. I have no idea why certain people go out of their way to ruin my day and then tell me that they love me... Are all parents like that? And then she has the gall to ask me why I do not visit more often... Then I have issues with someone who has a longer conversation with this very same mother than they do me... I am so mad right now that I cannot even think. No, I am not mad. I am disappointed. I am very disappointed. I try to always be there for whoever in my life needs me yet I do not get the same. If I call you crying, don't tell me that you have to go talk to some guy about something irrelevant. That does nothing to help me get over whatever made me cry. As far as I am concerned everyone at this moment can bite me. I have nothing poetic to pretty up this incoherent rough draft of thoughts. This is me in my raw, unpretty and over feeling state. Maybe tomorrow I will be nicer. But don't count on it.

Yes there is actually happiness! I am not always morbid and bitter and hating life! I am actually flying high right now in this moment. Sure, in a few minutes I may be back to my "why why why?!" but let's ride out this moment for as long as we can :) Every person in my life gives me ups and downs. And sometimes the ups are few and far between, but damnit I got a couple of ups today. And I want to rejoice a little bit. So earlier I was upset about some personal things, people who build me fences then disappear when the hurricane comes, and nosey women who knock but then come in without waiting for a response. But whatever. RIght now I am all about letting that shit go for the moment and letting it grow into a repressed tumor or something. Anyways, I talked to the boys tonight and it is so amazing how much they love me. Like seriously. I mean it is not like they are blind to my flaws or anything. It is just that they take me as I am and love me... unconditionally! I mean people throw that word around but they don't MEAN it. But my boys do. And while they are growing up and I am slowly not becoming the coolest person they know anymore I know that they always have me in their thoughts. If I am down and out I can call them and know that they will be there for me and actually give a damn about whatever I am going through. Yes they are young and they could possibly change completely as they age but I don't believe they will ever desert me. I make promises to them and fight to keep them. I have made stuff happen when it seemed completely impossible only because if I failed them I would just feel horrible inside. And they appreciate me as I appreciate them. It really is give and take between us. I mean I feel like they give more though because the happiness I feel when I speak of them, think of them and see them is so overwhelming to me and I just do not believe that I myslef could produce that feeling in anyone to the extent that my boys do. I can love them freely and without worry except for me afraid of disappointing them which I never hope to do but then it all goes back to the love thing and it just turns into this big mushy circle. So whatever. My nephews are the shit. Everyone else is just shitty hehe... well most of the time! Really... Anyways, another plus. My mom and I are kicking it like old school homies! It is pretty awesome. She fucking hugged me out of the blue the other day... I thought she was sick or drunk hehe. But she just wanted to show me some love and I am always bitching about not getting enough so I had to shut my trap lol. My sister and I are gellin like Maegeallen.. for now... She asked me to add her to my myspace and to spend the night at her house tomorrow night. And yes the three of us will no doubt be at each other's throats again soon but I guess that is just us. Tonight I am content with my family life. Yes there is some other shit in different aspects of my life that I am pulling my hair out about but for now I am just going to enjoy this moment. Because this very moment COULD be my life.

What words can I say that have not already been spoken? What paths can I walk that have not already been worn down by feet surer than mine? What monuments can I build that were not already built and demolished or long ago forgotten? What new and original and pure and true thing can I offer in this world of repetition and fallaciousness? What do I have to give, and who will be the one to say to me, "I want that" and hold thier hands out for me to fill? I sat on the fence and I let both yards of grass grow equal alongside of me. But then nails and boards came loose and I was tossed to one side and while they had looked equal, when I landed I looked up and found myself in a barren field. There were no blades of grass, no harvest this year and I felt it like a slap in the face or a punch in the stomach. I tried to make an offering. I even had my head bowed and my hands clasped and I said, "Take." But this sort of thing is really give and take isn't it? Scratch my back and I will scratch yours if my hands are not tired right? Maybe it was because I had no insight, no real direction. I did not think it through. All I thought was mine, joy, forever, mine. Mine, mine, mine and me, me, me I guess was not the correct giver's attitude. But I thought I was not alone in my want, my need, and if I got my wish and shared it then wouldn't that be ours, ours, ours and us, us, us? Funny how that works. Because right now I am looking at the grass on the otherside of a line that I cannot seem to cross and I am weeping alone. It is me, me, me who is crying in the dirt. I don't see you, you, you anywhere. And when I looked for you to dry my eyes, hold my hand, stroke my head and tell me lies of better days all I saw was my, my, my reflection. So where the hell are you? Where did you go? Why... Why what I am not sure exactly... but it could be a good opener. Just why? For once just give me an explanation. I need to know because the not-knowing is what made my fence break in the first place. Shoddy craftmanship on your part and I trusted you too much to ask for a warranty. And while I may learn something from this episode, I know that I will not retain it. You will come to me again with your hammer, nails, and wood and ask to build on my land and I will oblige. And I will watch you from my window, and nod approvingly, trusting you completely to not screw me over. And a new diaster will strike and I will named fool again. Maybe next time I should just go to Home Depot and build my own damn fence.

Was it unexpected? Not an unexpected gesture between us I guess, but at the moment I did not expect it. My thoughts were elsewhere. My body... I am always trying not to be there, so that when it crumbles, when it goes away, when the badness happens, I can react to it as a story being told to me... because I was not there. So many thoughts. Looks. Like... like a plea. Please notice me. Examine this. Hold it. Be gentle because it can break so easily. And then... was it casual? No. It was personal, intimate, that one gesture. His hand, sliding, pressing slightly, resting where my hand had been mere hours ago, minutes, seconds maybe? My thoughts of despair and defeat and otherworldliness were interuppted. And looking down at his fingers placed so gently I exhaled. I calmed. I relaxed. The smile crawled from my throat, slid past my lips and found his face. Were we both the same? Did the thought, the possibility cling to our minds with each passing second? While his right hand rested so gently against the wish did his left hand have two fingers secretly crossed? Did he search for me in that moment, call me from my dark thoughts so that he would not have to bear it alone? Did the moment mean anything or was it completely meaningless? I press my own hand against me later when I am alone. I try to mimic the path that his fingers caressed against my flesh, but I can't. With my skin touching more of my skin I feel nothing. A clue maybe. My dark thoughts full of remorse over pain and heartache I have not felt yet start to envelope me now that I am alone again. How dare you try to shake us they say. And while I try to hope for the best they again latch onto me and start preparing me for the worse. Will I be ready this time? I never usually am.

My words had finally come back to me. Inspiration found me in various forms, various people, various movements. I put hand to pen to paper and wove tapestries of emotion that I pressed my face to at night to inhale for relief or cry into for release. But as parts of my life began to unravel so did my words. And now I feel them leaving me again. What frustration it is to have so much to say but no way to say it! Words have never passed my lips with ease. Always I needed fingers and ink and dead trees to communicate. I never wondered what eyes would find my words, the evidence of my grief and happiness. The release was all that mattered. Now as my words abandon me and I caress empty notebooks I feel myself becoming full and fat off of the things inside of me that cannot be released but need to be released. It is a sick feeling and in efforts not to explode or choke on all of these... feelings, I find myself looking for outlets in my body, any open part of me to pour out these unwanted things pushing against the walls of my physical and mental self. Memories of youth, years flying by but it felt so slow then. Freedom, then elementary school, middle, high. Back then when the words were gone, what did I do? I remember pillows and mirrors and running water. I remember broken glasses and shaking hands. And speaking to myself slowly, quietly. Steady. Steady. Set and go. And then my hands would still and while they put down no words still it was a release. And such a fascination. To see the things that made me, the things that tried to break me, to bring it all to the surface and to just see. You think that you change. Through the years of childhood, puberty, teenage blues, adulthood, how can you possibly remain the same? While hair styles, fashoins, and even names may change, the inside is still the same. So the other night when I went looking for more outlets and found them with hands that were now bigger, fingers that were longer, the inside was the same. I am still Ashley. While people in my past may catch glimpses of me and not remember me because of fuller lips, bigger eyes, and thicker legs all it takes to find me is an x-ray. I fight to be relieved. I mean if I never change on the inside than can't I always find myself. But disappointment is heavy and it won't pour out. If I am the same what progress has been made? Does change equal progress? How quickly and violently I rebel against anyone who requests a change of me, so then why do I ask it of myself? If I can still turn to my past for a bitter but relieving solace then why do I feel disappointment? I fight not to press out more pieces of me looking for the answer because I am not sure that it is in me. It may be something that has to come to me. And if I pull out all of me piece by piece, what will be left to be found by the truth?

If you have to keep asking yourself why you are with someone, then should you really be with them? I mean how far can love really take you, and honestly how far can you EXPECT it to take you? Love does not make the world go round, it isn't all we need. It may begin wars but it does not end them. It doesn't pay the bills. It doesn't heal wounds. Sometimes it is just another way to bleed. I am bleeding. I will not say that I am dying. It is not that severe. But there is pain. Is it better to love but hate?... to love then lose?... than to never love at all if never loving means never feeling? If all I have to feel from this... emotion is aching bitterness, sour betrayal, vile stupidity, and self loathing then I pass. But my actions betray my words. I am like Eve saying, "God give me another chance." Because I cannot take this hell I have subjected myself to. But chance after chance I still find myself at that tree, reaching upwards, convinced that this piece of fruit will be so much sweeter and so worth it. Is it ever worth it? Is it ever enough? Does it ever all just stop, rest, then fall gently into place so that I can breathe a sigh a of relief and with a deep satisfaction say "Love" and not cry at its proclamation? Would have loved, should have loved, could have loved. I do love and because of that I bleed. I cry. I hurt. I scream. Why don't you hear me? Why don't you answer? And why is it that when you do answer, it is never what I want to hear? Let me deafen my ears to your words because they are not sweet or poetic. Let me close my eyes to your face, your flesh because seeing only makes me believe more although there is no faith and no foundation beneath those cells. Let me ball my hands into tight unrelenting fists when you are near because every touch makes me want to give in again. I will turn my nose away so that I can not smell the temptation in the air about you and close my lips tightly so that I can resist tasting your forbidden flesh. Slither from my path. Or if you must stay in my garden give me a deserving fruit to grow because I tire of being barren, empty and alone. The dirt passes through my fingers though I grasp it tightly. I need you to hold my hands firmly, not loosely lest these fields drown in my spilled blood and flowing tears, never to give life, laughter or love again. Take my hand, fill me up, love me. Let me love. Just don't make me do it alone.