and she looks me in the eye and says would you prefer the easy way? no, well o.k. then don't cry
Ugh. I'm such a noob. lol. I can see the fucking font now. Much better, yes?
i do it for the joy it brings
because i'm a joyful girl
because the world owes me nothing
and we owe each other the world
i do it because it's the least i can do
i do it because i learned it from you
i do it just because i want to
because I want to
everything i do is judged
and they mostly get it wrong
but oh well
'cuz the bathroom mirror has not budged
and the woman who lives there can tell
the truth from the stuff that they say
and she looks me in the eye
and says would you prefer the easy way?
no, well o.k. then
don't cry
and i wonder if everything i do
i do instead
of something i want to do more
the question fills my head
i know that there's no grand plan here
this is just the way it goes
and when everything else seems unclear
i guess at least i know
i do it for the joy it brings...
There's been a few points in my life where I was devoid of any feelings. It felt like I was merely watching everyone else live their lives and I was a ghost. I could feel physical pain. Emotions weren't there. I also hated myself so much that I covered all the mirrors in my house, and if I couldn't I'd try my damn best to avoid looking at myself. It's hard to really explain this to anyone who's never felt it. I wasn't real. Nothing felt real. Breathing was painful. Talking was painful. Physically. So I did very little. There was no sleeping. I'd lay down with sleep aids at 3am and get up at 6am. Most of the time my mind was blank. I rarely spoke to anyone even when spoken to. I just couldn't. Nothing was real.
Example:
I felt nothing when I was told my mother's ashes were stolen during a break in. Zero. "So?" I remember saying to my sister as she was sobbing with my brother as I walked out of the room.
Before this my world was so bright, wonderful, magical. Everything seemed so beautiful. Everything seemed to fit into the exact place it needed to be. I was so high up, in a place of sublimity.
I can remember it being summer. Warm breeze caressing and kissing my bare, golden skin under the rays of the loving sun. My fingers barely touching the young Japanese maple's tiny leaves. I could see the energy coming off of it. Ribbons of colors, shifting softly. Green and red. Tiny auroras boreales. The leaves the earth.
I can remember buying my first Wiccan book and being excited to talk to my mom about it. She'd tell me about the wonderful things she would do with her friends when she was younger and practiced. I remember the first time doing astral projection and lucid dreaming. She bought me my first dream interpretation book. Being taken out of school to go spend the day in parks just to walk around and be outside. Getting dressed up at 2am to go get some ice cream. Being bored and taking the lite rail downtown Portland just to people watch and talk to random people. Little things and tiny things. I could talk to her about anything.
My mother was the pillar in my life. She was the most incredible woman ever. She guided me into a world I've never known was possible. I learned so much from her the short time she was able to actually be who she wanted. It seems like the best people in life aren't here long enough.
These are the things I don't talk about because no one really knew her in that realm. And, these are precious memories that I've hidden away from the world. Because while they are so breath taking to me, they are so painful at the same time.
And it's a realm that no one knows about me. Because while they are so breath taking to me, they are so painful at the same time.
(Note, this was AFTER she got a divorce from my father who, while I love dearly, was extremely conservative Christian. He burned my witchcraft books my mom got me after she died and I moved back in with him. Polar opposite.)
Peaks and valleys have been my life. When I get high.... I fucking touch the moon. And once I'm there... I fall. Quickly. Hard. Implant into the earth. Straight to Hell. Past Hell into... nothing. A black hole. Worse than Hell.
Click to viewi do it for the joy it brings
because i'm a joyful girl
because the world owes me nothing
and we owe each other the world
i do it because it's the least i can do
i do it because i learned it from you
i do it just because i want to
because I want to
everything i do is judged
and they mostly get it wrong
but oh well
'cuz the bathroom mirror has not budged
and the woman who lives there can tell
the truth from the stuff that they say
and she looks me in the eye
and says would you prefer the easy way?
no, well o.k. then
don't cry
and i wonder if everything i do
i do instead
of something i want to do more
the question fills my head
i know that there's no grand plan here
this is just the way it goes
and when everything else seems unclear
i guess at least i know
i do it for the joy it brings...
There's been a few points in my life where I was devoid of any feelings. It felt like I was merely watching everyone else live their lives and I was a ghost. I could feel physical pain. Emotions weren't there. I also hated myself so much that I covered all the mirrors in my house, and if I couldn't I'd try my damn best to avoid looking at myself. It's hard to really explain this to anyone who's never felt it. I wasn't real. Nothing felt real. Breathing was painful. Talking was painful. Physically. So I did very little. There was no sleeping. I'd lay down with sleep aids at 3am and get up at 6am. Most of the time my mind was blank. I rarely spoke to anyone even when spoken to. I just couldn't. Nothing was real.
Example:
I felt nothing when I was told my mother's ashes were stolen during a break in. Zero. "So?" I remember saying to my sister as she was sobbing with my brother as I walked out of the room.
Before this my world was so bright, wonderful, magical. Everything seemed so beautiful. Everything seemed to fit into the exact place it needed to be. I was so high up, in a place of sublimity.
I can remember it being summer. Warm breeze caressing and kissing my bare, golden skin under the rays of the loving sun. My fingers barely touching the young Japanese maple's tiny leaves. I could see the energy coming off of it. Ribbons of colors, shifting softly. Green and red. Tiny auroras boreales. The leaves the earth.
I can remember buying my first Wiccan book and being excited to talk to my mom about it. She'd tell me about the wonderful things she would do with her friends when she was younger and practiced. I remember the first time doing astral projection and lucid dreaming. She bought me my first dream interpretation book. Being taken out of school to go spend the day in parks just to walk around and be outside. Getting dressed up at 2am to go get some ice cream. Being bored and taking the lite rail downtown Portland just to people watch and talk to random people. Little things and tiny things. I could talk to her about anything.
My mother was the pillar in my life. She was the most incredible woman ever. She guided me into a world I've never known was possible. I learned so much from her the short time she was able to actually be who she wanted. It seems like the best people in life aren't here long enough.
These are the things I don't talk about because no one really knew her in that realm. And, these are precious memories that I've hidden away from the world. Because while they are so breath taking to me, they are so painful at the same time.
And it's a realm that no one knows about me. Because while they are so breath taking to me, they are so painful at the same time.
(Note, this was AFTER she got a divorce from my father who, while I love dearly, was extremely conservative Christian. He burned my witchcraft books my mom got me after she died and I moved back in with him. Polar opposite.)
Peaks and valleys have been my life. When I get high.... I fucking touch the moon. And once I'm there... I fall. Quickly. Hard. Implant into the earth. Straight to Hell. Past Hell into... nothing. A black hole. Worse than Hell.