love love love. My demon. My hell. My anguish. I cannot hold on to you without sensing impending betrayal. I cannot be near you without bleeding to expose myself. I cannot ignore you without trembling in misery. You are both the prison cell and the gate key. I fear the moment when I a lay myself naked before you wearing only my confession.

On june 12 I turned 28 ( Read more... )

I made the decision to get a massage tonight. A full hour of deep tissue and relaxation. This is totally overdue. I find that I am happiest when I write, and most nervous when I've got a lot to do or when something of mine is going to be read in a group. There is a part of me that is slipping away the more I work in the technology industry. My ( Read more... )

I feel like I'm going through this endless emotional drought. There is so much life to live and I'm just sort of sliding by in a blur. Like an evasive spec in your eye. You could've sworn it was there and yet when you rub your eye and look in the mirror, there is nothing there at all. Someone recently asked me, what are you doing home on a Saturday ( Read more... )

There are people that do and people that don't. I'm growing more weary of being one of those people that don't. These dreams aren't going anywhere baby. That sand don't become a castle all by itself and you can put ideas in a bucket but they ain't nothing til you dump it out ( Read more... )

I signed up for these things on this website called meetup.com. You can apparently join diverse groups that tend to meet once a month or so. I signed up for the book club, the italian language group, and the writers group. I have yet to attend a meeting... now don't get me wrong. I will go someday. Life's just been crazy. Grandmother with cancer, ( Read more... )

ever want a new life, a new identity? And even though you love your friends sometimes you want new ones also? That's sort of where I am right now. I'm debating switching "off" my old domain, just becoming a livejournal only kind of site... it seems to have some advantages... Oh well maybe I am just confused. I will peruse some journals and check ( Read more... )

The pen is heavy and it's ink is dry.
The paper is wet from the tears that I cry.
Will I ever write that story
Ever document
The excrement
Which has been my life
My strife
Will the ink be the sutures
That mend me
Or will the pen be dagger that I use
To unwrite my painful life

What a fickle heart I have. And some may call me a bitch, some may call me cold, some may even say I'm heartless... but that's just some people. I followed a feeling in my gut that said "This doesn't feel right" and I'm sorry if that feeling came a little late, or at an inconvenient time. I have ignored it before... I have suffered for long years ( Read more... )

I have this journal here, where I am supposed to write the rantings and ravings of my personal linguistic struggles.... and my biggest struggle is with procrastination ( Read more... )