What's In A Name?

Sometimes, something just feels right.

It feels sound. It's suiting. It's bona fide.

That was one of those times.

Could a hug ever feel so precise?

I am a puzzle piece, long forgotten, finally finding it's place.

So unexpected.

An impulsive gesture that turned into chemistry.

An accidental euphoria.

Hofman is put to shame.

I should right a play.

Shakespeare couldn't write one any better.

I shall right a novel.

Bronte would never compair.

I'll create a new genre.

None of the ones in exsistance will suffice.

Perhaps I am too ardent.

All I know is the moment you vanish from view;

I begin to miss you.

What is that called?

There must be a word for it.

Addictions

I just ran into an old friend from high school. He said hello and we asked each other the common first question that that people ask when they see a familiar face: "How have you been?" He said that he was good and that he was living in a rehab facility. When I asked why, he began to explain his drug addiction. It hurt my heart to listen to him, but I was over joyed to hear he had been sober for almost 2 months.

It makes me sad to see people from high school. It always seems like the people I reunite with are worse than when I saw them last. It's funny looking back, because all the warning signs were there when we were in school together, but I suppose every one of us thinks it wont happen to us. It won't happen to the ones we care about. But it does. All the kids I partied with are still partying and on the road to alcoholism. All the girls who gossiped with me about the list of boys they'd slept with are all pregnant or have children already. All the boys that smoked pot in their cars and were taking vicodin at lunch are now doing coke, heroin, and meth.

I wasn't perfect in high school. I'm still not perfect. I sin every day, just like the rest of the world. I've gotten so drunk I can't stand, I've gotten so high I can't speak, I've had sex with people I wish I hadn't. In saying that I can not judge the people who continue living burdened lives, because it's only because of God that I'm no longer living the same life as them. Yes, I still make mistakes. But I learn from them. I can only hope that one day, the people I speak of have the same epiphany I did and decide to make their lives better.

Before me and my long lost high school friend departed he told me that he was expecting a second child with his long term girlfriend who he has a two year old with. He told me that he's trying to get back into a relationship with God. He told me that he's happy he's getting better. It gave me hope. To all the people who think that people can't change, you're wrong. It's all in a matter of will. If someone wants to change, they will find a way to. I have hope. For all of you.

I have had many addictions. Addictions that I was too scared to admit I had. I still have addictions. I just want anyone who's reading this to know; if you are struggling with something that you want to kick, talk to somebody. Anybody. Half the battle of fixing a problem, is admitting you have one. Don't let shame, guilt, embarrassment, or fear keep you from confiding in someone. No matter how minor or uncontrollable you think it may be, talk to someone. Ask for help. If all else fails, Confide in God. He always listens and he always answers prays. But if you ask for Gods advice, listen with an open heart, because it may not be the advise you want to hear, but it will always be the advise you need to hear.

I pray for all of you who have life altering struggles. There is power in prayer. I know this from personal experience. If anyone needs someone to confide in, you can email me. You don't have to tell me your name, I won't give you advise if you don't want it. I'll simply listen. I know that's all people need sometimes.

pigeonholesandpolaroids@yahoo.com

Psalm 34:18 The LORD is near to the brokenhearted And saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Clandestine

The antidote with a hint of the sickness.

The serrated edge ripping through layers.

Their eyes searing.

Their lips firing rapidly; 

Laughter like Bullets. 

A kiss is no more soothing than a Hornets sting.

Back for more. Never dying.

Cement dried to my ankles. Cracking.

I've become part of the fish bowl. Trapped. Unchanging.

A glimpse of sanity; His grin grows inside of me,

Neutralizing the malignant mess that once occupied my chambers.

Safety comes quietly.

Creeping like the morning sun, 

filling everything with light.

His lips sooth the swelling once bestowed by the bee.

Words like a clapper sending ripples through me.

How may a bell make music without you?

Defective

Emotions are useless when one speaks of this "Love".

Sick to my stomach longing. High in the head joy.

Tingling fingertips when you touch me.

If this is love, I have a burning heart for puppies.

If it is sound to love at first sight, why is it wrong to hate at first glance.

Is it wrong to assume that perhaps both emotions can't be justified without cause?

Married on a whim to live happily ever after. Suddenly love is gone.

Tear the bond with a scribble of a pen and a drop of a gavel.

Then, you find love again. Miraculous? No. It is but a show. A lie.

You know nothing of Love. 

It all ends at Courtship, and even that is debatable.

Love is a myth. Conjured by women who dreamed of a better world.

Women are the story behind "making love". No man is truly capable.

We have sex to repopulate. There is no Love in sex.

Women were planted to help man. Men need heirs,

Thus, we give them what they need. 

Love has nothing to do with it.

The only love that exists is between a woman and her child.

There is no love between a woman and a man.

You think you know what Love is?

 It is sexual desire. It is selfish camaraderie.

No mortal man can fathom love. Only God is capable. 

Yet, God can not hug a woman in tears.

Love is tainted. 

What shell can hold love, when,  amongst it's shelves are viles of

Hate, Jealousy, Malice, Envy, Betrayal, 

Vanity, Selfishness and Debauchery?

All of the flaws that man holds in them are

 made more pure by this ghost of Love.

A means of making us worthy. 

A lore that gives man a story to tell and a life to live wholly.

Love betrays. Love is misunderstood and held in a light that we are blind to.

Love makes One do crazy things. 

It makes you Kill. That doesn't seem right to me.

Do not say "I Love You" When you don't know what you speak of.

Love is not what you feel. You feel Lonely. You feel Lust. 

You feel as though you're dreaming.

Wake up. Nothing, my dear-- Love is nothing how it seems.

I Am What I Am

As a human-being, there are things that you're wired to feel. 

Hate, love, jealousy, envy, happiness, shame.

What if one felt the wrong emotion at the wrong time,

Or simply lacked "accurate" emotions at all?

Does it make me any less human than the rest of the world?

Perhaps, I've just adapted. 
Become what was asked of me by unheard voices.

Voices that faded with time and only left an echo, 
reminding me of why I am the way I am.

I do not feel love. I feel the need to be wanted. 
But if you say those three lying words,

I'll spew with the only emotion that feels familiar to me: Anger.

They say I'm malicious; a feminist. A harpy. But I am not.
I am what they forced me to be.

If a man beats a dog she'll whimper and recede. 

That dog will always associate man with that beating. 

In her eyes, if the man comes near, 
the beating isn't far behind. 

Thus, If a man comes running to her, 
even with the best intentions, she'll remember the fists,

And she'll growl and bare her teeth, ready to bite.  
Man has turned her into an distrusting dog.

I'm the bitch you have ruined.

A woman, late at night is escorted home from church, 

Trusting this Godly man to protect her.

They laugh-- he speaks of the service they just attended; 
He marvels at her beauty,

Then suddenly she's cornered in a dark alley. 

He's begun questioning her; Pressing her.

In her ignorance she tries to laugh it off. 

He is not laughing. This man is grabbing. Hushing. Forcing.

This man did not love God. 

This man loved women's flesh. Stolen flesh. Broken flesh.

He destroyed the beauty of a woman. 

If she can not trust a "Godly" man, 
what man could she ever trust?

I'm the woman you ravaged.

A lover kisses her neck, woos her with words 
and comforts her in his arms.

Those arms that hug her, pin her down and hit her. 
They bind her in anger.

His tongue that spoke so kindly now scorn her. 
They turn to arrows, piercing her heart.

His mouth has grown tired of kissing her. 
His lips tight. Face turned away.

He is a mirror. The pagus form of my younger life.

These words are no stranger. 
They haunt my dreams and debilitate my actions. 

If her lover no longer admires her, he becomes nothing but an "er".

An awkward word used when you've made a mistake in your speech. 

And likewise, If the "er" escapes from the title as father, 
you are left with only a fath--

The depth of a grave that you have begun to be laid in.

I'm the worthlessness you have both spoken.

Do not come to me speaking of amour. 

You rank no higher than story book fables. 

I have felt love. It died in my arms. 

I have felt hate. It brews in my eyes.

I have felt envy, every bargain I propose drips with it.

I have felt Happiness. It comes in the form of printed text.

I am shame. My breath summons it. 

Any man who dares tell me I am wrong. 

Prove it. With no case, there is no verdict.

If you dare laugh at me, first listen to the atrocities I speak of.

Then, and only then, point a judging finger. 

Radication Of A Flimsy Stance

There was a beast. It swallowed her whole.

She sits, scribbling her life on the walls of it's paunch.

If it be her will, she would crawl out and declare victory.

She does not. She waits for her moment. 

Darkness. It overwhelms. It comforts. It blinds. 

There was a knock, from the other side. 

"Come out! Be free of this... THING!" The voices lamented.

"I do not want to be free." She bitterly admits.

"I do not want you to see me. Leave me be."

The voices then dissipated.  Again, she was solitary.

The only company, her captor.

She continues to write. 

Planning the escape she knows will come.

Willing or not. It is stalking.

When will you see that I am not blind. 

I am not weak. I am not daft. I simply am what I am.

I will not be "saved". I will not be swayed.

A Praxis Unchanging

Some times I feel the urge. Surging through me like acid in my veins.

There's only one way it will cease. An Itch I must scratch. In a place I can't reach.

Like Ivy growing inside of me. Each vine I tear growing back quickly and restlessly.

What drives me? What fuels my desire? Beauty. Madness. Duplicity?

I find myself staring. Yearning. Grappling.

I want it ripped out of me.

Torn at the seams and used for rags.

Death to lechery. RIP la dolce vita.

People Watching

I find myself Thinking. 

Thinking about American Beauty. 

The movie-- Not the Reality.

The reality is unrealistic. 

I see myself watching the world with a skeptical frown. 

Waiting. 

Counting-- Each step matters. 

Rewind. 

Pause. 

Adjust the color. 

Replay. 

Walking like zombies, 

screeching like magpies. 

Lost. 

Happy. 

They catch each others eye(s). 

Was he looking? 

Was she staring? 

Their lips crack. 

A smile is born.  

Study everything:

His hands are shapely.

Fingers long.

Palms bloody.

Can you see him thinking?

Ambition.

Fallen to his knees; screaming profanities.

His heart is empty.

Lights.

Casting shadows on their faces.

Lurking. 

Whispering.

Secrets in their pockets.

There's a hole in the seam.

Lost, purposely?

Did you see the gap before stuffing them there, carelessly?

Sarcasm.

hiding.

I hear myself complaining.

It hunts me.

I stare helplessly.

He holds her face in his hands.

Her eyes are searching.

Like mist-- disolving.

It was never me. 

A land where no man loves me.

He does, now. 

He lacks the proper timing.

A cacoon. 

Unopened. 

Sacred.

She's been tortured; 

A lack of touching.

I lay awake, pondering.

She waits.

Tapping.

Whimpering.

Halting.

When I breathe, she breathes with me.

My eyes close.

I awake to find another morning.

Shining for me, only.

Will a walk in the park suit me?

I find that people watching is the most healing therapy.

It's only them. 

Not me. 

Rhythm.

Safety.

The Year Of: Forgiving, Forgetting & Moving On

It's 15 min till New Years. I'm alone in Jake's grandparent's house and I've decided to recap the last year and proclaim the plans I have for the new one. Fingers crossed, it'll be better than 2009.

--This last year has been an incredible learning/feeling experience. 2009 was a good wake-up call--

* ALL NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED

JANUARY 1st, 2009, 12:00am I was with James*. It was cold and I was happy to be there. I couldn't have predicted that I would be getting a New Years kiss that night, but I did. It was phenomenal. It was the start of a liberating year for myself. I would continue talking to James* and I would continue to love every moment of it. Talking to him is/was so taboo, which probably made it more exciting than it should have been. That, in itself, was what inevitably ended me and Ryan's* relationship. I fought with Ryan*. A lot. Although, every hateful thing he felt towards me, in our first month of 2009, began to disappear from his eyes when I started finding out all of his, very own, dirty little secrets. He would never look at me the same after I admitted to what I had done. I would never look at him the same after finding out what he had done. So, It was all as well; We both knew this would be our last year together. We could both feel it.  James* became all I could think about. To this day, I can't pin-point why. It wasn't a sexual attraction... but, It was an intimate one. I felt mentally exposed around him. It was a comfortably secure feeling that was foreign, yet, welcome, to me. No matter how "wrong" my friendship with him is/was, I don't regret establishing it. This kid redefined how I wanted to be treated. He changed everything I thought about myself. Brad* was second in line to help that.

Brad* was a huge part of my year... & my life. More than he could possibly imagine. In an unbearably dark, lonely part of my life, I found an unexpected friend. No one has ever been so physically enamored with me. I felt like (pardon the cliche) a princess in his presence. I didn't have a self-conscience bone in my body when I was with Brad*. My whole life I have felt like a monkey in a glass exhibit. Everyone came to admire the creature who was so much like themselves, but not as evolved. Everyone felt safe commentating and ridiculing because they had glass between them and I. Whilst being ridiculed, I could see people ooing and awwing at the lions, gazelles and zebra. Brad* made me feel like one of them; even though I still had a monkey's body. I regret not taking the right actions to keep Brad* in my life.

I was taking baby steps in the right direction, I was only getting there on a very perilous road. If you've traveled much, you will know what I mean when I say, the most dangerous route has the most beautiful view! That has been my experience in befriending, and dating John*. I stopped seeing Brad* as often around the end of May. To compensate for his presence (we didn't see much of e/o while he was finishing school)  I began hanging out with Andrea* a lot more.  We would drink her bf's more often than not. I finally met John* at the river on the last day of May. We went 4-Wheeling that night and he flipped the Quad. He was embarrassed & felt terrible! I laughed it off and suddenly, we were friends. I cheated on Ryan* with him. That was the last time me and Ryan* broke up. It will be a year in June. We both know we'll never date again.

June was an interesting month. It was the month that made me establish my place as a whore. Or, more or less, It made me realize how insecure and desperate I had become. I craved intimacy more than ever, and it would be the end of me. I wasn't sleeping around, but I was still disrespecting my body and demeaning myself. I was becoming a slave to the Hollywood standard for women. I was letting myself become an object rather than a human being. I suddenly hated who I was. I realized I had become exactly what I was afraid of becoming, my whole life. The worst part of it all was that I ignored this feeling the whole time. I found myself trying to sort out who I had genuinely cared for and who I had used and let use me. I still have a fuzzy idea of who fits in what category. Only now am I putting my foot down. I'm done living that life. Only at the end of the year and the start of a new one do I feel that I owe myself a little more. Even though I feel that way, now, as 2009 has ended, I didn't have such confidence in the last half of the year. I was beginning to see that my life wasn't the one I wanted to lead, but, I still wanted to fill the void I felt without a present father. I still wanted to be with a man. I wanted to be with John*. In October, I settled for Ray*. He settled for me, also. After breaking up with his Girlfriend, I suppose it only seemed natural for us to "hook up" (again, not sex) so we did. I can always expect him to be grabby when he's single and deprived. Never mind that there's no attraction. It's become nice to have one person I can rely on. Sadly this is what it amounted to. I began spreading myself thin, again.

After months of patiently waiting (which is an excruciating task for me), and exerting all my options, I lost hope in John*. Everyone knew he liked me, but they also knew he would never date me. I tried convincing everyone around me, including him & myself, that I could care less if him and I dated. I lied. I became complacent with John*. I decided to let it be what it was. A friendship. I started talking to James* more frequently in the late months of the year. His birthday was in November and I wished him a happy one via text, from the couch of John's* apartment. I missed James*, but knew we could never be more than texting buddies, as did he. It seemed to be the story of my life that nothing ever developed past friendship (or at least a friendship with less-than-par benefits). On the night of James'* birthday, John* and I sat in bed and watched a movie. He kissed me. He pulled away suddenly and asked if I wanted to date him. Not now, but eventually. Shocked and confused (and still sulking over the sad truth of never being able to ever be with James*), I asked what any person SHOULD ask: Why? Long story short we began officially dating a week later. I was thrilled, scared and in shock, to say the least.. When suddenly, I was done. I am done. I now realize what I want & it isn't him. I need someone who I didn't have to compromise my feelings for. Someone I was completely satisfied with and didn't want to change ANYTHING about. John* is a great person.. Only, not for me.

John* was everything I wanted. He was handsome, charming, fun-- He adored me (or, the idea of me), he showed me off to his friends, he wanted me to drink with him and have fun. In the midst of dating him and being, suddenly, submerged in his life, I realized he seemed all too familiar. He was my father in smaller/younger form. All this time, even after writing a "what I want in a husband/boyfriend" list (before I met John*), I thought I knew what I wanted.. But then, when I found it, I saw how wrong my priorities were. I realized that maybe when something is forced, there's a reason for it. This last year has been a plea and a voyage to find and establish anything remotely normal. Now, I don't see the harm in being eccentric. I Don't see the point in conforming to the "ideal" way of dating.

In 2009 I discovered that I CAN be loved by somebody. I found worth, dignity, and respect for myself. I decided in 2009 that life does not have to be hard to live, but that we make it harder by doing the things we know will not help us in the long run. This last year, I have found love for myself. I am beautiful. Not in that cliche "every one is beautiful-- real beauty is on the inside", thing. I mean, I genuinely look in the mirror and see a beautiful person looking at me. That is an epiphany for me. Something I never thought I would ever feel. Something I never want to stop feeling. Even now, I look at the thick scars on my legs, arms and stomach from cutting, and I'm happy they're there. They remind me that God can change any situation. Everything can get better. Everything turns out.. If you want it to.

I want to live purely. I want to live without regrets; specifically regrets that can't be fixed. Things that can change a life forever, but were decided on a whim, but I don't want to live too cautiously. I don't want to be SCARED to make mistakes. I want to do something productive with the time I have. I want to become the best person I can be, which will take a lot of modifying on my part, but I know God will help me do it. I want to live my life the way God intended me to live it. There will be times of hardship in 2010. It's unavoidable. It's life. The way I handle those situations, though, will reveal who I truly am, and who I strive to become. That's what I want people to see when they look at me-- A woman on a mission. A woman who isn't afraid to be herself. Too many people are scared of that, these days. I don't want to be one of them. 2010 will be a year of revisions. I'm scared. Excited. Unprepared. Hopeful. Ready.

Happy New Year.
SmDanieB

A Memory Of The Croon

Sitting. meditating. wondering what could be. what has been. what could have happened.
Was it a matter of significance? Challenging me. Beckoning me to be what I was meant to be?
Humming. Soothingly. Validating every sense of peace and well-being.
I lay awake thinking. Seeking. Everything that breathes around me.
A thicket of pine trees. A wall of security; They moan as they inhale deeply.
What is that lullaby? It talks of ponies. All memories.
Age to age one must think; The crooning of yesterday is carried into always.



(I'm abundantly proud of this entry. I can not pin-point why, exactly.)