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| Amandine Van Ray |
homeless
forgotten doll
I'll lie there with
Look into my reflection from the glint in your eye,
The girl I was, time has made me no more...
I'll whisper, "I don't care...that sweet little lie made me smile."
We'll talk about what never was - like long lost friends ...
Embrace-but awkwardly, I don't fucking know you anymore.
You can pick at my threads, watch me unravel ...
Flick my skin and see my layers ripple...
I'd let you do anything- just as I let you do nothing ...
I'll be silent as you decide to where you'll lay me ...
Until we do this all over again.
I don't fucking know you anymore... But I'll still wait - because I once did.
A Virtuous Lie
bitten
stricken
but not purged
unchallenged within
a merciless criticism
silence is tolerant
I am no longer a child
Prayer of The Human Condition
Stopping to ponder on insecurities, I found my own coalescing and threatening mutiny. I've grown bored of my usual haunts. Stretched beyond what my mind can conjure interest. Where there once was fertile soil, now barren fields of apathy go on as far as the mind can perceive. Ghosts forever taunt me; forever are in misery of every loving thought I hold. They sleep in my shadows, lie in my bed, burrow next to my cold skin. Fluted music, melody once as sweet to me as nectarines, have soured in my ear, in my throat … In my heart.
Here, wrapped in my anonymity, forcibly restrained by my own frailties. Bound are my feet by birth; my hands by class; my will by the servitude of my sex.
I am nothing more than a servant, humbled to thee by chance- enshrined in memory of none. Lost in my wander, feverishly beckoning to those who pass me by.
See me for what I am not, not what I am. Want for what I am not, not what I am.
Let me glisten under light not found by common experience. Let me dance in the rain not fell upon spoiled ground.
Do not let me languish or despair my circumstance. Keep me from brushing into mires of thorns; words of brutal sacrifice; in feelings of inequity. Let me reflect upon me as a smile... A casual touch of warmth or even slight glint of eye.
hand-me-down
the voice isn't mine
Silence
A garment
DIDN'T you see that I was broken
I watched as you stepped over the pieces of me
In A Change ...
Laughing In The Calm
Our social issues or behaviors can trap us and prevent progress.
Our refusal to admit to ourselves who we are and what we really want or need allows us to keep blaming everyone else for choices we make and circumstances that result.
Local life is brutal. It's a never ending cycle of fucking themselves over. I've come to conclude they do so in order to hide self responsibility. It's a pattern of self abuse, debasement and desperation.
Recently someone tried to incite drama with me over a many years ago sex partner. It failed. I'm 41... Not 14. I'm married, and after everything I have been through, having children, growing up and learning to love myself and Jeff - my views have seriously changed. I've learned what love is ... It isn't desperation. That's fear... I've had enough fear in my life. I don't want to just "have" someone - I want someone who I know, without doubt, loves me. I want it all... I don't have to settle. Saddens me to think of the times that I did. That was cowardly of me. It was desperate.
I suppose they thought I'd be jealous at the "players" in the script - but I'm not. I cared for them at one time - both I understand better than they understand themselves. One is desperate for a quasi-love/warm body to come home to, the other desperate for finances and easy keep ... No one doubts this, even if a stout defense is laid up. However, how is this wrong as long as both are being fulfilled? That may sound cold -but if both are happy, both are adults and it is consensual, why care? I have no doubt the woman involved can handle herself or any man - they will get the fuckin' boot... She doesn't bend much.
That opinion landed me in quite the argument...
I think that it may work out because both are supplying a need/want to the other. It's mutual. People act shocked, but really he would have been a perfect pick for her a long time ago. As for the odd woman out - she is young and average looking, but in a good way. She has issues which have been added to by the situation she has freed herself from. This is healthy for her. She will heal, rebuild herself and maybe refocus and eventually happen upon a love meant for her. One that doesn't hurt. One that helps you grow, not shrink.
We all have one - I hope. In any case I can't understand why people thought I'd respond different ...
I'm getting old and soft :P
Circulation
They are soooo perfect.
Who are these moms that seem so organised and insanely... perfect?
I make playdoh, paints... I do crafts. I sing songs(sure they may be somewhat inappropriate ones, but I sing dammit) ...
I do "stuff."
Enough on that feeling inadequate. I need to swell with pride, not shrink with self doubt ...
Even as Taylor sits on couch naked eating peanut butter out of jar with a spoon.
Moving on.
Fucking Nudges With Borg Mentaility.
Just as with most religions, atheism has a nasty head that rears when you don't speak of the "movement" with flattery or exalt it to some type of superior realm of being... aka bullshit. Atheism is nothing more than a disbelief in gods. It doesn't say you're smarter, more kind, more giving ... It doesn't say anything of you as a person - other than you don't believe in God or Gods...
Neither does saying irreligious...
Often I run into minds that think ideologically and pull out their fangs when I say something that cuts against the barrage of nonsense people spew on their pages in support of atheism - what I feel is becoming as convoluted as religions. Why? Because that's what humans do. We take a simple term and make it into a complex idea with commandments ... We develop a necessity to say it's "perfect" or defend it zealously - even when it lacks merit.
This is why atheism to me is becoming more and more everyday like an ideological mind fuck where you can't speak out honestly about issues we have in our community... You will always have those who are fucking zealots, and who like to pretend all is peachy fucking keen. They will write blogs, statuses and articles all puking the same shit on the virtues of atheism. They'll write on many subjects they never ACT on...
Those things have became like prayers... A useless motion that allows a fake sense of accomplishment while doing nothing. "Like" on Facebook has become as a prayer ... Doing something, while doing nothing.
Letting Motherhood Ghosts Fade
I'm the only one for Alex and Tabitha to blame - I'm the only parent they can hurt with words and actions. I'm the only one they can make cry, punish or hold accountable- because I'm the only one who cares.
I am the bad one, the deceiver, the boogie man, the destroyer of lives... Even though I wasn't alone, I'm alone in all the blame. I'm to blame for the needle; the fights; the turning inward and depression ... I'm to blame for working too many hours, not being there for school and meals ... everything a mother should be there for.
It's all on my shoulders ...
I was just trying to keep us alive - but that will never be enough of an excuse or reason. But I am, and always will be the blame. There is no one else for them to hurt that would care. They never stop to think of me, and what I went through - kids never do. They never stop to think how depressed, defeated and lost I was while watching my world fall apart, and knowing nothing that I did could repair. I fell so deep and hard - to a low point that I put a loaded 357 to my head while sitting on the very bed my children slept on. I just wanted to die. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to do that every day - for the longest time.
So I get full doses for both us ... Just like my mother did ...
I've come to conclude I will never have a normal relationship with either of my two adult children - they're still blaming me. I'm still their crutch for every wrong in their life... I'm the only one they can focus the hurt on. I'm to blame for both their personality flaws, though the coldness comes from their dad, well as a few other traits.
He was always so cold. Always. At least to us.
I'm to blame for Tabitha's material obsessions- I bought her everything to make up for not being there. So now she admires people who have lots of material items ... She has always looked up to other women more than me. It was this way with her first boyfriends mom, and now the second. They share things in common on physical possessions or desiring physical possessions, where worth is defined by items. She's the daughter they always wanted - and the daughter I always needed (minus the material garbage)but will never have, because I don't meet her requirements monetarily.
I'm to blame for Alex's slow demise into his pit of nothing - his cocoon of "I hate mom and all things she touches." I don't think he realizes - ultimately he holds the keys to his happiness... Most of it is wrapped up in his obsession with the internet.
My life has had good times- but a very cruel unlimited amount of bad. I've been raped, molested, psychically and emotionally abused .. I've been poorer than poor... Below poverty level... I've survived more in the first 12 years of my life than most have lived in 40. I can't blame my mother or father for the actions I have made as an adult. They may have helped shape me - but I am responsible for all that I have done, and made by choice.
I own myself, and all the wrong I have done - and the good I have created.
Someday I hope my two adult children can say the same... I hope one day they overcome their self induced handicaps and bullshit .. and learn to own themselves.
My "New Years" resolution is to stop being the blame. Learn to carry your own fucking selves and learn to accept personal responsibility for who you are today. Either get well or commit emotional death ... Mom is officially tired of being your trash can. I'm not the band-aid to all that ills you ...
Teetering on the brink of hmmm?
When I turned 35- I was a mess emotionally ... Still going through that love-sick plague and that whole disaster I allowed to take over my life. I was very angry ... If people think I'm angry now when I write, they obviously have never read my writing when I truly was. So I dismiss them. I can write seemingly angry posts- while being perfectly happy and well amused. You don't always need anger or bitterness to be passionate on topics that are emotional and disturbing. People who think so - are limited in emotional growth/intelligence. We aren't one dimensional - and people who promote being so, are people who retard growth.
Forty has been rough. I've been doing a lot of deep thinking- my usual.. I've been very down and harsh on myself on the changes I'm experiencing - which was blocking me from realizing other changes. It's been a not so pleasant awakening to the new older me... Well at least up until very early this morning. First glimmer into the change, was this morning when I woke up to Taylor stroking my cheek. I teared up ... It was just a sweet moment between my lil man and I ... I thought on how much fascination lay inside his small- but huge, blue eyes. Even his dragon breath as he said, "mommy morning get up, love you." smelled sweet to me ... We stayed there though, stroking each others cheeks and eye locked. When he had enough of the Hallmark moment he rolled over onto me, leaned over and kissed Mia. She woke up and the playtime was on... my bed was destroyed with giggles, blankets and pillows.
For those 30 or so minutes - I was a child with them. It was great therapy for me ... It was more than just playtime. It was a festival of light emotions, of innocence. What made them so vibrant was the all the bad ones I've had lately, they stood out like fireflies in the pitch of black. I couldn't breathe them in deep enough, hug them tight enough ...
The second came in an email from Aidai, a video of herself and her village she moved back to in 2010. We share a kindred nature - we both love simplicity and outdoors, both deprived, or at least we both were. She is now very happy and connected with nature. I crave and miss it so much - sometimes I feel totally disconnected from myself as a result. Well - actually I FEEL disconnected all the time. The feel of the soft mud and grass, the smell of decaying leaves with the mixture of animal scents ... I miss it all. However, I don't miss the people, they annoyed me because they weren't playing banjo's:) They aren't my kind of country - I prefer open minds and less bias and a lot of love around fires.
The video ...
The screen blacked in and out ... flickered...
When it cleared, she was looking in a mirror ... She wash washing in a ceramic basin, cracked and stained. She traced her lines as she washed - in silence. Her hair is turning gray. Dye is hard to get in the village, very distant from modern stores- though it does have two rivaling pubs and eating places. She explained she uses natural dyes that she finds here by gathering locally. It's her one vanity addiction, just as with myself ... We will be 100 with pitch black hair. She makes sure to stroke the sides - next to her ear to show me the creeping of old age, and laughs. She recalls how tight her cheeks once were and makes the quip, "I can hold more bullshit to tell willing ears now."
The video goes on to show her meager abode, purposefully meager. Then she goes to the door ... and out we went. I was surprised on her next line of stories... She took me to her "honey" spots... These are places where she has had trysts- and she recounted them very boldly and in great detail. I might have even blushed. My cheeks certainly felt warm. Sex is also a kindred nature of ours- we embrace and accept sexual natures as one of the glorious of things to spend as frequently as possible. This is why I love people from other countries - their sexuality is much more open. Aidai is married - but they have been open for the last 20 years, and happily so. They are best of friends and it shows in the video him teasing her about creeping on young men and a time when she scraped her knees up on the stones behind the pub they like to go to... He commented she was much too old to be groveling on rocks, to which she said, "I use my jacket now to pad my adventures." ... They both laugh.
She paused along a trail, a very well traveled one, to sit on a wood bench that someone was kind enough to place for the older people to rest on, she had a recount there of a tryst ... She was silent for moment - then said, "You don't cry enough." She turns the camera on herself and says it again, "You don't cry, do you?"... "Why is it so hard for you to release? You think it's weakness? Men cry. They may not let us see, but they do. Did the men in your family tell you it was weak? A woman's petty lament? My father would set out with me and have a good cry. We cried over our spilled drink. We we're cryin' people." She laughed.
The camera flickers and she say's, "the rest I'll write, the batteries are dim," with her usual expletives.
The rest of email.
"It cleanses your soul. It helps you come to terms with the weakness you feel on the things going on in your life. Have you never set with friends, drunk and cried? Your spirit, or whatever you call your inner self, is hurt my sweet girl. It's broken. Somewhere, someone broke you. You've pieced yourself together with a fierceness that's isolating you from the better parts of yourself. An island within an island. You're on this island, and you won't even take a dingy to get off it and explore the waters around you. You've locked yourself up in that gilded cage to make up for things you can't change. Your cubs survived my lady friend, they survived, a little broken too. .But you made it, and you can't change the journey you've traveled, so why stop the journey? I love how passionate you are- apologetic on it too! But I hate how you never cry, I know you don't. I can see it in your writing. You get loud, angry and on the verge - but then you rationalize not getting too emotional and losing control. No one can be in control at all times. Sometimes you have you to drop the reins and say fuck it, have a good gurnin' (cry.) If no one likes the sound of your wailin' - put up your finger, the destined one, and tell them to lick both sides and ride it high.
Forty will be great for you - it's a turning from things that young women get bothered on ... I highly doubt you'll cringe at your breast or sagging ass (though I've read you have no ass at all.) Enjoy not worrying anymore that your body isn't perfect, no man screwing a woman 40 or above expects that - I doubt they have a spectacular body themselves... You'll just be enjoying each-other without the baggage and laughing at the aches and pain afterwards. You can have a great night of pissin' off and feel none the anxiety on being a proper lady, we passed that by years ago. You'll be wise now instead of an asshole, that's my favorite. Older women are great in bed, we aren't shy about that spot in the least. For me, after I accepted, it was a huge release of pressure. I had my a few gurn' and then lifted my black veil and tore off the town and my panties. Time to get in the dingy girl. Time to love your friends who've loved you through your spells of isolation. Find wise women to sit and talk about the young bulls with. For sake of all that's wonderful - get some cock, will ya? Women like us need a good cock every now and then to keep us strumming pretty words."
I'm smiling, deeply.
But where is the dingy? Laugh.
Hopscotch With My Demons
| Nebe, peklo, ráj / hopscotch (Photo credit: Wikipedia) |
Or some shit.
I need rest my head in a spot that doesn't condemn. A place where I can speak easy. Tired of placing palm to forehead in exhaustion. I'm tired of "doing right" .. I"m starving myself over convictions I hold. It's a fucking struggle with my demons who just want to ride bareback and toss lines into pools filled with something rather than nothing. I'm not even sure if they be foe or friend. The lines are confused, I'm fucking tired.
Did I say I'm tired?
I'm fucking tired.
It's all under the finger ....
The wooden button can't help this.


