Living this way half way at a time. Trying to go forward but never seeming to go anywhere. I think I am, I know I am, missing pieces of my soul.

I love the clasp of your hand in mine. The slide of your fingers against my skin. The whisper of your lips against my neck. The press and pull of our mouths. And then I don't know what happens. My mind pulls back. Separates. I'm cracked in half. Trembles and fear. And your arms are around me and soothing. But how do I explain? What do I

I don't know how to tell you...what to say to... how to ask for...I need...something. I'm stuck and scared. A little scarred. Because sometimes the world makes sense and then it doesn't. And I'm busy trying to make sense of both. Pretending it does when it doesn't until it does again. Because all I'd get is understanding and logical answers ( Read more... )

...to try rock climbing. Of course I really don't know why I want to try because I hate heights. But then I don't always make sense.

That's all it comes down to really. So why is it that I can't really seem to make the right one at the right time? I know what the results will be but still I do it. Posessed and so damn sick of it and of me.

All I can feel is an odd throbbing numb ache. Until I poke it and then it becomes a sharp, screaming pain. And of course I have to keep on testing it because it might have gotten a little better in the last 10 minutes. As if the spreading purple isn't answer enough. Or the strange twisted shape my littlest toe has grown in to. But it isn't ( Read more... )

She's hurting and I don't know what to do or how to fix it. Especially when she's so far away. How do you just be there for someone over the phone? Silence becomes awkward not comforting. I can't hold her when she cries just sit there and listen to her hurting. And "It'll be alright" sounds so cold when mingled with static.

Its now that I hear the voices. The "well intentioned" ones- the ones trying to tell me I'm fat. From the unknown lady at my cousin's wedding when I was 14 "Oh, wow! You're really doing a good job on those pancakes. I can only eat three of the little silver dollar ones." And the two girls in line behind me in the deli back in college. The ( Read more... )

Quote of the evening brought to you by the Letter Hilary "I didn't know Rosa Parks was still alive until she died."

Yes I know this just goes to show you my evening was not what one might call spectacularly exciting but it amused me.

Pushing at me. Twisting and shouting. The idea that I Can and I Can't. Tweedledum and Tweedledee if you want to borrow that cliche. Because it all ends up being the same thing really.