She called me a "neurotic psychotic"; The Story of the Fake Profile Page

Okay not that I have a DSIV book tucked neatly away beside my bed, but I was completely blank after being called "neurotic psychotic," by someone that is unable to express any forms of gratitude, appreciation, love or admiration for someone that they had been seeing for over seven months. Now when I say "seeing" I don't mean just sitting there staring off into the face of another human being I mean dating, having sexual intercourse with, sleepovers, dinners, hand holding, receiving gifts, money, etc. How could someone devote so much time to someone & not even care about them is this even humanly possible? Yet it seems to be as she has expressed no feelings of friendship, no admiring, no deep liking for won't even call unless she's called first, would spend days at a time with me yet not even care once she was out of my presence about me or my child. Any way moving forward...
So of course I took the matter to dear old friend Google, Now Neurotic is described in a way that is common and EVERYONE born to human parents has a little of this in them, it's basically the simple stress that is caused by every day life. In some people it can be as simple as a fear of public speaking, or cause a person to be stressed about bills, eating, work, their body, their health or have many different anxieties. Neurotic or better stated neurosis is NOT something that can interfere with a persons day to day living. Now being psychotic or having a psychosis is just a symptom not an actual disorder. It is however a state that impairs thought, perceptions and judgement. This again is not directed or even linked to anyone particular mental illness depending on the severity it may require therapy along with medication, (which BINGO I am not hiding the fact that when I meant her I was already on meds & under going therapy) but again this is something that the every day average person can also experience. In my case YES I made a fake profile to prove to myself one thing and one thing only that I was RIGHT!!!

In the process of creating & maintaining this fictitious profile page on a popular DATING website I was able to learn a lot about the human condition, the thought processes of some people, which I feel will lead to several blogs about this same subject. I learned a lot from people, I learned more than I really cared to learn about people too. For the most part the one person in particular I learned about was myself, I am very intelligent I used this site to gain power of my mind to tell myself it was actually a good time to exit a relationship that was one sided, that was mentally, FINANCIALLY draining to my entire life. It's not that I didn't already know this however in the battle between heart and brain the heart won out big time. I would run to this person if they needed anything, give even when I knew that when I was need that they were never there to give to me. It's also crazy because despite my financial, mental or medical situations all that would have really helped was just some comfort or support however this person didn't even find me important enough to give me those simplistic FREE things. I was always after everyone on her long list, even when she befriended someone newly I fell far behind this person whom couldn't or didn't ever do anything financially for her probably wasn't even capable of doing any such things which always left me to believe that all she could receive from her was something physical. Even the people she called friends, gave most of her time to were also people who were no where near mentally capable of spelling even basic fourth grade words let alone hold any adult conversation. Yet here is where I stayed angry for over seven months because I was in so many ways the perfect person for her however she never thought the same as I. From creating this fake account I was able to finally realize that some people will never be in the same mind space as to match with their actual biological birth dates, so this also told me that I was wasting every bit of my fucking time...not only on this female but on this fake ass page in which I had created to catch her in yet another one of her weakly formed lies.
So in all this I added that I was suffering from a neurotic episode, I had been living within a lie, a sad tear filled lie, just because I thought that I should stay some where after investing so much time, money, especially money into this relationship. Now I feel that I am a fool, but like most educations in life they cost you something, I paid a lot for what I already knew and that is that people will use you up, spit you out and think nothing of what they've done to you. No matter how much they were also fucked over by someone else, no matter how much they lost in pervious relationships, they don't mind doing it to someone else just because it was done to them. Some people just have no feelings what so ever that's how they know terms like neurotic and psychotic because they have been deemed that before by a mental health professional.

To be continued....

Worst mommy EVER!!!

Fifty Shades of Puke

So I was randomly searching threw unseen posts and pages on facebook. I know we all go blah blah blah blah and bullshit bullshit bullshit over all the changes little Markie is making with his billion, million, or whatever amount it's really worth website, but there are over 400 hundred friends on my list so of course I don't see there posts daily that would be an insane amount of posts to sort threw. So this leads to nights like this when I am hopelessly unable to sleep when I check shit out on the low. Well, I was randomly looking threw my ex's page, yeah that's another blog as to why I'm friends with an ex actually there may be an ex or two in that list, any way, I got to thinking, now this isn't the first time I actually thought this however all of her ex's appear to look like individuals with down syndrome. Now I'm not making fun of the folks cursed with the life of living with such a horrible disorder may God bless them but we all know that they have very distinctive looking features everyone born this way. But I never knew until I saw some of the pictures of my ex's ex's that those born without this can also have those features so now I know that I have learned something in life now as I'm sleepless this leeds me to believe that I MUST have this look too because she was with me  

Any way another thing I learned is that there are several people that are subscribed to my page and I have no idea who the Hell they are. What is this about? Why would perfect strangers and in one or two cases people who are friends of friends want to subscribe to my page? I find that sorta odd and a little creepy. Only two of the people that are subscribed have actually sent me friend requests, one being my father who I refuse to accept the other being some weird red head dude who has nothing in common with me what so ever. Now why they allow this I'll never understand. Also I learned that people you've unfriended can remain subscribed to your public posts, why they would want to read shit you posted after you basically said they weren't good enough to be on your stinking friends list and get the news of your most recent shit or bad hair cut I don't know why they would want to read the scraps that you may or may not tag as public on your their damn feed anyway that's just weird.

Another thing I noticed is people that don't really give a shit about their children. Because I read a lot from some people about their mates, dates, boy/girlfriends but very little about their children. Don't people like their fricking children any more these days? I mean damn it's like where are the pictures? It's not something I notice with a lot of my friends with children it's just a few of them and I wonder a lot of times why that happens. There is something I will never understand about a person that can make a child an not care enough about them to at least think of them from time to time, I mean shit that's what separates us humans from the damn animals. 

Any way why is it that some of the ugliest people post the most pictures of themselves? I mean damn isn't one picture enough to left you know you look like shit an maybe just maybe that one pictures enough for everyone else to get the gist as well. Than as I'm scrolling I come across this picture that one of my lesbian "friends" actually happened to click the "like" button on, it was a picture of a lesbian that had a caption that read; "Dressing fly and getting money is what I do fuck bitches!" In the background of the picture was a bed covered with crap, there was a comforter that had this 1960s old funky couch print on it balled up on the bed, the carpet was filthy and littered with crap, there was an over turned fan laying on the floor, with junk shoved under the bed. Now I wanted so much to reply "Fuck dressing fly and getting money how bout cleaning that nasty ass room before you post pics of your lying ass standing in that filth!" Well, being as though it wasn't a person on MY friends list I just hit the "block" button on the dumb bitch that "liked" the picture, I figured I wouldn't want her as a fake facebook friend or a real life friend with such low standards that she was showing everyone she possessed. 

So all in all my extended time on facebook basically taught me that some people are just fucked up looking, some people are just fucked up living, some people are just fucked up reproducing and some people are just plain ole fucked up. No matter what they are there is someone for them out there, there is some asshole that likes them or loves them. Yet my ass can't get someone to like or love me to save my life!!! What the fuck is the world coming too???? 

Good Night From one misunderstood, unloved female until the next time!!!!

I don't love you....

Why is it that people find it nessary to state the obvious? I mean if you DID love me why would you want to be so hurtful towards me and tell me this? And even if you didn’t why would you state this to a person you openly know loves you…oohh Wait is it because I hurt you? Or is it because you have not filled your quota of people to hurt for the month? I mean why is it that WE have to just walk right up to one another and hurt each other? I mean I am the first to admit that I have a quick sharp tongue and it cuts deep, however when I am beyond pissed off it’s a good idea that you stop pushing me beyond that point. However if you don’t I will say some shit, it’s not even ALL that deep or even ALL the hurtful things that may cross my mind about someone but never the less they are some mean things. I am not good at holding my tongue, but I need to become better at holding back on my feelings, love an the things that I do for people. 

I give I give, I save, I save, because in all actuality when I can do something I think I should do something, because if it were ever me I would want someone to do something for me…but this theory has NEVER worked out for me in all the 37 years of my life the only things I have gotten in return are ” I DON’T LOVE YOU!” or better yet “FUCK YOU” yeah my ex holds the record for ungrateful bitch of all times! But where is the love? Really I mean where is the I LOVE MYSLEF so much that I truly love people who CARE ABOUT ME? Damn there was this once upon a time you “treat others the way you want to be treated” thingie that was usually a rule that your mommas taught you in like pre school or some shit…but now that shits out the window and has been replaced with the “fuck you” or ” I DON’T LOVE YOU” rule. I mean in dating and my more mature relationships there has always been this thing where it’s “yo we’re together so imma make sure you’re alright like I expect you to make sure I’m alright.” What ever happened to that shit? Now it’s like gimmie gimmie take take and oh yeah fuck you by the way ain’t no body tell you to do shit for me I’m grown.

Will I ever find someone that will look out the way I have always been willing to look out? Or will I just end up a bitter bitch talking shit about how I would never do shit for anyone again because my ex or the last so and so did this to me an I am so done being nice? I don’t wanna be done being nice! However it’s draining my soul that on this earth there are no more appreciative ass people out there, that they are no more broken battered but ducked taped and crazy glued together people who are like LOOK I been through Hell and back that was then but this is now and I appreciate a good person in my life!!!!!!!! What the fuck is this world coming to? I mean it’s assholes win or what? I don’t wanna be an asshole, yeah I may fuck up, fall into that realm from time to time but it’s always because I have been pushed there because I am sick of the way shit has been going for me. However maybe that is the time for me to leave…maybe when I am pushed outta character and into an eveil tongue or thought that is the time that I should really pull back, pack it up, roll my ass out! I don’t wanna hear shit like ” I don’t LOVE YOU!” HELL I have a momma and even a daddy that talk to me like I ain’t shit why the HELL do I need someone from outta no where to add to the list of my tormentors? Why do I deal with such suffering and pain from the hands of people who really don’t give a shit about me….that HATE ME ENOUGH TO SAY HURTFUL SHIT LIKE ” I DON’T LOVE YOU!” When am I ever going to find the love I deserve? When am I ever going to stop giving my all to people that HATE me so dearly? When am I ever going to be loved? When will I ever be able to sleep in peace knowing that my daughter and I aren’t some temporary pit stop for some abuser, or user to just roll on out on us? I am tired of tear soaked pillows…nights when I fall asleep actually believing I don’t deserve to be loved. 

Things you never asked...

...you never asked what I do. You never asked why I liked you.You never asked what was my hearts desire. You never asked what sets my minds thoughts on fire. You never asked about my past. You never asked when I was kissed last. You never asked about my life. You never asked how I handle strife. You never asked my favorite color. You never asked how my family treated one another. You never asked about the foods I enjoy. You never asked what it's like to be a girl boi. You never asked why I don't sleep at night. You never asked if I was alright. You never asked why I cry before I slumber. You never asked about the things that make me wonder. You never asked these things about me because you have no respect for the beauty you see!

While I was writing you a letter...

Large yellow legal pad, my favorite cheap pen with blue ink that just slides across the paper, see I wanted to talk to you but you didn't want to talk to me, so I decided to write you a letter. When I put the pen to the paper, I lost the words that I wanted to write, I mean should I write about how I miss my dying sister, or about the hard day I had that made me truly miss her, or maybe about how thinking of you made me smile outta no where. Should I write about how your chocolate skin makes me wanna lick on you to see if you taste as rich, sweet, or thick as my favorite chocolate treat? Or maybe should I write about my favorite color or all the things I've always wanted to tell ya, like how I grew up, or how I want to be a writer, or maybe how when you smile when we talk makes my heart skip a beat, or maybe the way it sounds when you say my name so sweat. Should I write about how I think of you at night, when I'm laying there on the edge of sleep, how it makes me smile an wanna rush the night just to awake and hear your voice again. Or maybe I should write about how your courage to step out on faith makes me wanna move mountains in my life. I scratch my head and think oh maybe I could write an tell you all about my comic books, or how I draw funny pictures with my own insight. Should I tell you that I am an ordained minister, or that I went to seminary school because I thought God didn't love me. Should I tell you my deepest fears, or the about the nights I've spent in tears. Maybe I should write about all the times you've made me weak in my knees or how the way you make the days fly pay with the slightest of ease!

When I thought about all the things I should write you because you wouldn't give me a call, my phone rang and she, she was the one that was there for me so she heard it all!!! :-)

Am I Blue? By Alice Walker (part 1)

For about three years my companion and I rented a small house in the country that on the edge of a large meadow that appeared to from the end of our deck straight into the mountains. The mountains, however, were quite far away, and between us and them there was, in fact, a town. It was one of the many pleasant aspects of the house that you never really were aware of this.

It was a house of many windows, low, wide, nearly floor to ceiling in the living room, which faced the meadow, and it was from one of these that I first saw our closet neighbor, a large white horse, cropping grass, flipping its mane, and ambling about- not over the entire meadow, which stretched well out of sight of the house, but over the five or so fenced-in acres that were next to the twenty-odd that we had rented. I soon learned that the horse, whose name was Blue, belonged to a man who lived in another town, but was boarded by our neighbors next door. Occasionally, one of the children, usually a stocky teen-ager, but sometimes a much younger girl or boy, could be seen riding Blue. They would appear in the meadow, climb up on his back, ride furiously for ten or fifteen minutes. then get off, slap Blue on the flanks, and not be seen again for a month or more.

There were many apple tress in our yard, and one by the fence that Blue could almost reach. We were soon in the habit of feeding him apples, which he relished, especially because because by the middle of summer the meadow grasses - so green and succulent since January - had dried stalks half-heartedly. Sometimes he would stand very still just by the apple tree, and when one of us came out he would whinny, snort loudly, or stamp the ground. This meant, of course: I want an apple.

It was quite wonderful to pick a few apples, or collect those that has fallen to the ground overnight, and patiently hold them, one by one up to his large, toothy mouth. I remained as thrilled as a child by this flexible dark lips, huge, cubelike teeth that crunched the apples, core and all, with such finality, and his high, broad-breasted enormity; beside which, I felt small indeed. When I was a child, I used to ride horses, and was especially friendly with one named Nan until the day I was riding and my brother deliberately spooked her and I was thrown, head first, against the truck of a tree. When I came to, I was in bed and my mother was bending worriedly over me; we silently agreed that perhaps horseback riding was not the safest sport for me. Since then I have walked, and prefer walking to horse back riding - but I had forgotten the depth of feeling one could see in horses' eyes.

I was therefore unprepared for for the expression in Blue's. Blue was lonely. Blue was horribly lonely and bored. I was not shocked that this should be the case; five acres to tramp by yourself, endlessly, even in the most beautiful of meadows- and his was- cannot provide many interesting, events, and once the rainy season turned to dry that was about it. No, I was shocked that I had forgotten that human animals as an nonhuman animals can communicate quite well; if we are brought up around animals as children we take this for granted. By the time the time we are adults we no longer remember. However, the animals have not changed. They are in fact completed creations (st least the seem to be, so much more than we) who are not likely to change; it is their nature to express? And they do. And, generally speaking, the are ignored.

After giving Blue the apples, I would wander back to the house, aware that he was observing me. Were more apples not forthcoming then? Was that to be hi sole entertainment for the day? My partner's small son had decided he wanted to learn how to piece a quilt; we worked in silence on our respective squares as I thought. . .

Well, about slavery: about white children, who were raised by black people, who knew their first all-accepting love from a black women, and then, when they were twelve or so, were told they must "forget" the deep levels of communication between themselves and "mammy" that they knew. Later they would be able to relate quite calmly, "My old mammy way sole to another family." "My old mammy was ___________." Fill in the blank. Many more years later a white woman would say : "I can't understand these Negroes, these blacks. What do the want? They're so different from us."

And about the Indians, consider to be "like animals" by the "settlers" ( a very benign euphemism for what they actually were), who did not understand their descriptions as a compliment.

And about the thousands of American men who marry Japanese, Korean, Filipina, and other non-English-speaking women and of how happy they report they are, "blissfully," until their brides learn to speak English, at which point the marriages tend to fall apart, What then did the men see, when they looked into the eyes of the women they married, before they could speak English? Apparently only their own reflections.

I thought of society's impatience with the young. "Why are they playing music so loud?" Perhaps the children have listened to much of the music of oppressed people their parents dances to before they were born, with its passionate but soft cries for acceptance and love, and they have wondered why their parents failed to hear.

I do not know how long Blue had inhabited his five beautiful, boring acres before we moved into our house; a year after we had arrived- and had also traveled to other valleys, other cities- he was still there.

Taking Stock

Today I took stock, I thought about how many times I cried while I should’ve been smiling. I thought about how many times I felt like crying but couldn’t. I thought about the people I made cry and the many of those times I felt no regret until today. I thought about how many times tears were all I could manage to show because I felt so lost. I thought about all the crying I’ve yet to do. I thought about all the movies, books, stories I’ve heard that made me cry. I thought about my story and the few people that only know parts of it that cried for me. I thought about being a child crying because I wanted to be some where, any where else.

Today I took stock, on all the things my eyes had seen as a child, my ears had heard. I thought about how I’d die if my own child had ever seen, heard or lived through those things that I had. I thought about the pain I felt being a child of abuse and neglect, how lost I was with no one that cared to help me, save me, for at least a night. How many children have I tried to save? How many children have I seen living the same life in which I prayed to God to let me sleep and never wake to again? I took stock on how many broken adults I’ve meant that didn’t even live a portion of what I had. How had they become so broken? How can someone born of a married couple, raised in a loving family, raised in the suburbs be so damaged?

Today I took stock, on all the years, months, weeks, days, minutes, moments I’ve wasted spending them with people who treated me just as bad as my parents did as I was growing up. How much I’d loved them, how much I’d done for them, how much I’d sacrificed for them. Every time I’ve tried my best to make a smile come across the face of someone who cared little or nothing about my emotions or well being. Why had I done these things, for people like this? Why am I repeating this pattern of oppression? When my eyes see clearly the path unto which the road is leading, why do I keep walking it?

Today I took stock, not in what I have, had, or accomplished in my lifetime, but how much I didn’t do. For every time I was silent when I should have been talking. For every time I was talking when I should have been silent. For every time I should have been taking action yet I was inactive. For every wrong that I saw but didn’t attempt to make right, for every right I saw but didn’t attempt to complement. For the things I let go that I wasn’t ready to let go of, and the things I took so much pride in that weren’t really worth a damn. For every moment I cherished that was a lie, for every moment that I refused to cherish until it went bye.

Today I took stock, and I am left with this, I’m empty inside!!!!!!

Coloreds is Takin' Over

I’m not gone cry

I’m not gone cry

“While all the time that I was loving you, you were busy loving yourself I would stop breathing if you told me to, now you’re busy loving someone else..” As the song starts I can remember seeing the film (Waiting to Exhale) in the theater for the first time ever, it was in the old Cheltenham Mall theater. It was so crowded every seat in the place was taken, all anyone could see was a sea of woman filling the entire place. There may have been about ten or so males in there that evening. I sat in a row with about eight other females, we had all came to see this movie together. When the part in the film came on where this song (Not Gone Cry by Mary J Bliege) lowly played in the background every single female in the place started to sing this song, my entire body was covered with goose bumps as I sang the song as well. It was one of the most amazing things that I to this day have ever experienced, with lord knows how many other people, 75 or 100 who knows. But the sound of all of us sining in agreement, with feeling, the sound was just amazing. Now that several years have passed, I’ve lived more than enough experiences where I can actually understand the words, feelings, and emotions behind this song, that scene in the movie and why so many of us that night felt the need to sing this song.

“I should have left your ass long time ago, I’m not gone cry, I’m not gone cry, I’m not gone shed no tears because you’re not worth my tears. I was your lover and your secretary working every day of the week was at the job when no one else was there helping you get on your feet..” I mean even though many of us weren’t married and probably like myself still have yet to get married, this song speaks to the heart of every woman (man) hurt, putting yourself out for someone else just having them play with your heart just to leave you for another person. I mean the song talks about how easily someone can just leave you after an extended amount of time together basically without regard to the commitment in which the two of you had made to one another, or the emotional attachment. “ eleven years I’ve sacrificed and you can leave me at the drop of a dime...” This also leaves a person feeling as if the time they’ve put into a relationship was wasted in essence it may feel like that, there is no positive way to put a spin on that. However every personal experience with another human being is an opportunity to learn something that you can use later on in your lifetime. I mean life’s lessons aren’t always so easy and none messy, there is going to be difficulty, there is going to be a lot of mess to clean up, there’s going to be complications involved with them. But they aren’t for naut and if you’re a quick learner you may not have to repeat them ever again, because you would have gotten out of that relationship or situation what you needed to avoid ever being put in that place ever again.

I just only wish that people would no longer have to learn these lessons that end with so much pain, but as long as there are “assholes” in this world there is going to be pain inflicted to anyone who let’s someone into their hearts, anyone who opens up their lives and lets another person into it. Until this day there are always going to be songs written like this or movies like “Waiting To Exhale”, dedicated to the pain that so many people male and female have been through and sad to say real life doesn’t always have the movie happy endings in them either.

What if you’re suffering was to save me?

What if you’re suffering was to save me?

I have the advantage of having in my life a woman that I think highly of, I see her only once a year for some government business. Never the less this woman is one of the most amazing souls that I have meant in all my life. Her words are powerful, they give encouragement, enlightenment, peace, insight and power to my soul. At one of the meetings with her, she spoke of her dying sister. She said that her sister spoke of her pain, and like many in life faced with such circumstances she asked “why me?” So this woman said to her sister, “what if your suffering was to save my soul?” This woman than spoke about how she watched an older handicapped neighbor sit outside every day, she spoke to him and said to him you don’t know how many people look outside and see you every day, and which of them is getting something out of your life.

From this I often wondered why, why do I have to do daily battle with this depression, OCD, Anxiety? I mean people can’t see any signs outwardly that there is anything wrong with me. I mean it causes no outside deformities or signs that can be seen by the another’s naked eye, this causes more confusion than one would ever think. See people only seem to feel an understanding for the things that they can physically see another person going through. People usually aren’t concerned with a suffering that they can’t see for themselves, they are usually good at assigning sympathy for some ailment that can only be scene.

Well peel back my skin, crack into my skull, extract my brain can you see it now? Probably not but that’s more on the lines of the dramatic effect that people can understand that you’re dealing with a battle. I am at war and if anything I go through can save someone else from losing a battle within themselves or the course of their lives than I would have found hope, I would have found triumph and victory in my war. I would know that all the tears I’ve cried, all the struggles I’ve had, all the times my mind wanted one thing and my heart wanted another, all the people I’ve pushed away, all the people that have pushed me away because I wasn’t this perfectly happy thankful being, won’t all the just be for naut??? It would serve to save a life, a heartache, a tragedy, a loss and someone some where would gain victory through my war.

...a lonely walk

As much as I enjoyed the view, your touch, your time, your words I am left not where I had started but now even further behind in my goals. The view was distracting, but not mine to enjoy. The view was tempting but something many were aloud to lay eyes upon. The view was amazing, but left me looking for something that made the smile on my face an in my heart last longer than a fading glance. The view was of the devil, something that I wanted to see but that lead me away from the beauty already around me.

The touch was softer than cotton, creamier than fresh churned butter, and sweeter than a sugar cane. Within it I would've lived out my life, within it I could have died, within it I could have lost my sorrows. However within it I was lulled into a false sense of comfort and hope. Within it I found my dreams becoming nightmares, my accomplishments becoming failures, my desires becoming unfruitful. My fingers longer for such a touch, however to go deeper beyond the package I found damages unclaimed, heartache unhealed, love given away to freely, hatred for ones self and demise to the temple that God hath built to be worshiped. Within this touch I was tainted, tempted and lost, for it was just as deep as the puddle that lays upon the ground. This touch wasn't for me to rejoice in but to be pulled into and lost from my path.

The time was short, but left bitter sweet memories, of something that wasn't real but only for me to see. Time that was taken from the walk I had started long ago, losing my way was only but a distraction from the peace in which my soul had been longing. Time that can't be taken back but only consumed by the devilish thoughts that used up this space. Time that I could have saved my own self from the fortress of distress that my heart now lives in. Time that I could have used begging my God to forgive my missteps, for his guidance I still need to get pack to my walk.

Now that my focus is back, my soul is more weary than that of a young slave child. My path is that of the lonely one who lays all alone, making my way towards my goals. Alone in the night, scared of the dark, as a child forced to grow up much to fast, I look towards my path and embrace this simple task. For I am the only one who has to walk in these shoes, for my size isn't yours, nor is my destination. For one day you'll find your end is not where mine is to be, the love I had for you is as real as life to me, the time I spent was well worth the lesson learned, the devil has many distractions to come, with my eyes bound and focused I shall bypass everyone!!!

F&*k The B^&ch !

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=33ApxEreuR4

Always an Option

when you find that someone's always putting you in here when they want someone else but pulling you out when they bored, maybe it's time to just empty the trash in your own life!!!

JUST LET IT BE...

Never could understand the need for a title for somethings until I no longer had a "thing" needing a title!! Yeah confusing huh??? Well I had this girlfriend, well female friend, well woman friend...uummmm well let's put it like this, she was a woman and a friend and the feelings I felt for her were much more than any friend I have now, will ever have or had at that time! See I wanted to lay claim on another human being, which isn't exactly possible, I mean since slavery was abolished right? It's easy to claim a family member as being your family, a friend as being your friend, but a relationship beyond friend but less than married, or even boy/girlfriend. Isn't so easy, but hell who says it has to be called anything but what it is friends. I mean yeah this woman I was seeing at the tender age of 29 or 30 was more than any friend I'd ever had before, however it wasn't a need for any title at all, I mean we talked just about every waking hour our phones were connected to one another, thank the lord for bluetooth! But I wanted more, I wanted DEMANDED to hear her say those words, I wanted to have property in the form of another human being...lol. But it wouldn't have made her more special nor me, it wouldn't have made her love me any more or less. I mean this woman was special to me even though we had no title what so ever. She explained this to me often I mean at twenty years my senior she had lived loved and learned much more than I had, she said "just let it be" but I didn't listen...

Today she remains close to my heart, someone that loves me no matter what I do or have done, and someone that would come to my aide if I ever needed her. However I have moved on, yet find myself backwards. With someone that always wants to make sure I know that my title is friend and "FRIEND ONLY". I mean it's like the saddest thing ever, I love her no less, I adore her maybe more, I spend lots of time with her, I give her time that no one else receives, we do things that are maybe a little more than I'd like her to do with her other random friends. I just don't get the need for constant reminding of the "friend" title, I mean I ask for nothing more or her except to keep her plans with me, or to be respectful of a few things, I just think it's so odd to always want to downgrade everything as if I can someone how forget that I am "JUST A FRIEND!" I mean a times I wonder if maybe I should never see her again, or maybe my friendship isn't needed because I'm constantly being told over and over again that am just a friend. I wonder is this a thing she does with all her friends, it's kinda creepy. I mean besides I'm happy with what I have, I say it often, yet it seems to fall onto deaf ears, or maybe someone who really doesn't want me around. The more and more it's said the more and more I get the feeling that I am not wanted around, or that I am stood up often because I am not that important. I have no idea what it may be all I do know is that I wish she would just "LET IT BE!" Before it's gone....

Fingers running through your hair...

...my fingers running through your hair, the sensual feeling on the tips of my fingers the fibers tingling the soft smooth shinny hair slowly rubbing along the length of my hands. While the thoughts going through my mind, from the follicles of your hair to the neurons of my brain there's so much motion in the room, yet you and I lay intertwined motionless. The flashes of images racing musing in my mind of doing things to you that would cause us both to blush in shear delight. As still as our bodies lay the thoughts just rush, in an instance I'm dripping from the perspiration that flows from an inactive body but a mind that's traveled from the top of your head to the souls of your feet...this can not be my hands gently glide from the roots of your thick hair to the ends. The laws I want to break in my mind, the things I want to do...the pressure in my palms increases as I slide to your shoulders, massaging, touching, rubbing, mind racing, filling, thoughts coming and going, entering and exiting. The scent of the room is or your perfume, my finger tips lead me on this journey, from your hair, to your skin, to your dress, to be continued!!!!!