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Tuesday, 18 August 2009

  • Left

    The room smelled of old blood and alcohol.  I looked around and they all sat in their own corners, not speaking, not looking up from their own version of memories.  The small framed girl that was sitting on the loveseat rose to speak with me.  She started babbling on as if she knew what she were saying, as if her overuse of the word "literally" would somehow make her sound intelligent.  I couldn't hear anything she said due to being so focused on why a four syllable word can make one feel smarter.

    I saw an available seat next to the old man and left the girl babbling on.  His plaid golfing hat tilted and his cane shaking gently in his hand.  He was staring towards the floor as I approached and must have seen my shiny red toenails peaking from my shoes.  He scooted over without ever raising his head and gently nodded aknowledging my existence, though I don't think he ever knew who it was that sat next to him.

    The flowers were mostly fake (except for those in the front) and were tinged yellow.  The casket, slate blue, trimmed in silvers and golds.  The music chimed overhead and I tossed words around trying to find the song amongst my files.  The preacher spoke and I didn't hear a word.  As everyone made their final circle, I stood up and walked away. 

    The cars lined up in a row and I watched as we drove past those not participating.  They pulled over, in respect, and their faces, some smiling, some looked at us with sadness.  After the ceremony, I approached the old man with the hat and kissed his cheek, "I love you, Grampa."  He handed me a rose from atop her coffin and I left.

    Sometimes there just aren't words.

Thursday, 25 June 2009

  • Raped of Life

    "I'm just sitting here all alone with beads of sweat pouring down my lithe and supple figure, reading a touching story about..."  it was something about a girl and a peanut.  Really, it's nearly irrelevant.  She recited these lines over and over as if she were going to perfect them and get the role in some Hollywood movie.  It was just a play, she already had the part, and we were in high school, no less.

    I laid there and listened until she finally broke the jabber filled silence and said, "I'm dating Randy."  I'll never forget the jolt of pain that shot through my entire body.  "Your what?"  I half exclaimed but my voice was a bit broken due to the instantaneous tears.  She went on to tell me that she really liked him and he wasn't going to ever hurt her.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing, I couldn't believe she was even torturing me with the syllables, the consonants, the vowels that made up his name.

    He raped me.  It had only been a few years.  I was only 15 when it happened.  Why?  The questions, the thoughts, the terror, of the past, of the future, for her.  I was overwhelmed with thoughts of how she would/could do this to me, to herself.  Had she no pride in herself as a person?  She knew it was the truth.  He had confessed so to her.

    I had to break things off with her.  I told her if she was dating him that I could not be her friend.  I couldn't stand next to her as he hurt her like he did me.  I couldn't face him, I shouldn't have to face him.  He took the only thing that kept me innocent in the eyes of the world.

    It only took two weeks.  Two weeks.  Then she called me and she said he assaulted her.  He grabbed her by her hair in the same way he did me.  He threw her on the couch and tied her arms as she struggled to free herself.  She told me she only got in one good kick before he had so much pressure on her body and she was so tightly bound that she was unable to free herself.  All the while, as she gave every detail, I felt nothing for her.  I did not feel sorry that she had been hurt.  I told her and she knew.

    I received the phone call last week that she was in prison.  Some people never recover from the toll life can take on them, some never recover from the hurts people place upon them.  She never recovered. 

    I wonder if it's too late for me to be her friend again.  It's been about 12 years, can time be too much?

  • I'm addicted to premarital sex

    My boyfriend and I have been dating for 2 years.  He attends church regularly and I usually join him.  This past Saturday I spent the night, as I normally do.  We woke up around 6 and had amazing sex.  When 9 o'clock rolled around I got up and started getting dressed for church.  This is when Jason said that we couldn't possibly go to church when we had sex that morning.

    Since when do sinners not go to church?  I don't know that I fully agree that premarital sex is wrong.  From what I can tell, the Bible just says that it's better to get married if you want to have sex, not that you have to.  Don't misunderstand what it is I am trying to say, I don't sleep around and I understand the complications that may arise from having sexual relations before marriage.  I just don't know that I think it's wrong according to God, especially so wrong that we would have to not go to church.

    Do you think premarital sex is wrong and why?


Tuesday, 23 June 2009

  • Climbing Life's Mountain

    The only way to conquer life's mountains is one step at a time, drink plenty of water, and only take short breaks when needed.  I was 25 before I realized the importance in not just the breaks but in timing them.  If you don't time them, you will soon discover a lot of time wasted and you're still at the bottom of your mountain.

    Here are some more rules for tackling mountains:

    Be sure to pack well.  You don't want to carry more than what is necessary but you also don't want to find yourself without anything to quench your thirst or fill your voids of hunger.

    Be sure to dress appropriately.  It is inevitable that life will send down the rain.  If you're prepared for it, you won't get nearly as wet.

    Get plenty of rest, but don't sleep the day away.  Without proper rest you won't have the energy to tackle your day.

    Wear the right shoes.  Don't try to wear someone else's, they might be too big.  Don't wear the wrong ones for the occasion or you won't be comfortable.

    Bring your safety gear!  If you're unprepared, if you put your guard down, you may fall.  Even worse, you may fall hard. 

    Now then, one last thing:  Don't forget to map out the best route!

Wednesday, 13 May 2009

  • Anxiety

    It's like oversized metal balls are rolling through my veins.
    My blood, like rushing waters in the rain.
    I breathe deep, in and out.
    My lungs like firecrackers in a drought,
    the fierce fires roar like lions.

    My head feels heavy, as marble.
    My knees feel weak.
    My hips feel the pressure of 10,000 pounds.
    And, my feet are like the hooves of elephants.
    My body aches, burns, stings.

    My skin is getting pimples,
    it looks like connect the dot.
    Anxiety sucks;
    a lot.

BeautifulDreamer81

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    • Member Since: 4/17/2009

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