Missing You, NO

Have you ever had that experience, where you miss something but you don't want to be missing it? Something that hurt you, but that something use to be that something that was worth having around. That something that made you smile. You wanted it there. To be around. It made you smile. Then, there was the pain. You couldn't understand why. Why did it have to hurt so much? Then it became all the time. But I loved. Loved a lot. So much. To much. Still do. Always will. But it doesn't matter. Lies turned to truth it is was no more, and all I am left with is the memory, the pain, the sorrow, the missing. Its not anyone cares. Which will be OK. I guess. Right now it defiantly does not feel that way. No, it hurts. A Lot. More than I like. Sigh. Why? why? I'm tired of this sadness that follows me. Just when I was starting to feel so bright. I love this time of year. I hate it now even more. Summer. Had always been my favorite. That's when the memories began. That's when it was over. So now I'm stuck missing things I don't want to, its not east to let go, I'm not even sure I know how...at all......part of me doesn't want to....I need to.........Someday, I will forget, but I guess you already did....

I Love Food

I truly do. More then most things, not all, but most. Sadly, however, it has no love for me. Sigh. My favorites are repulsed by me. Pizza. Steak. Hamburgers. Hot dogs. Lasagna. Ahhh god, I love cheese, and milk, and meat, specifically cow. Sigh. Nope. They hate me. So now I have to be a vegan/vegetarian. It really isn't that bad. Actually some of the best things I have ever eaten. Except that steak I had in New Zealand, that was immaculate. De-lish. Sometimes the oily stuff is nice. Like, um, ooo funnel cake. I am soooooo in love with that yummy stuff. Oh, well maybe someday if a grow another gullbladder. And they say you don't need the damn thing, yeah right, try telling my body that. It's ok, I will divulge in the delicacy of the vegan world.

Nice Hot Showers

I like them very much thank you. I like the feeling of the warm water splashing my back, running down my skin. Feeling it all around me. It's simply comforting, and quite relaxing. I feel as if all the days troubles, problems, worries, just rinse away, right down the drain. I like the smells of my soup as it mixes with my skin and the running water. Sometimes I just sit in the tub and let the water run over me like a waterfall. I just love the feeling of running water on my skin.Sorta like rain, in a way. The coolness in the summertime to tame the tempest heat. The winter showers were you have to force yourself not to turn it up so hot it pulls all the moisture out of your skin, but just warm enough to erase the seasonal chill. I think one of my favorites is after a good workout. When you can still feel the burn in your muscles, the sweat is in gentle trill down your curves. The water hits your sore muscles, soothing them with the heat, the dampness. Feels a-maz-ing. I could take "forever" showers if I were able, alas it will not be. MMmmmm, and don't even get me started on baths. Bubbles, lots and lots of bubbles.

The Natural Disaster

Yes that's me. Not Beautiful disaster. No I meant what I said. And why you may ask? Well cause I'm beginning to find all the major to minor scrapes, mishaps, and whatever the eff else as, well, quite fricken amusing. Hahahahah. I believe I have lost my sanity. Hee. Not really. Well, maybe. But its ok, the people are nice here. Soooooo, what brought this on was as I was showering I felt to soap dripping down my leg, theeeeen I felt this sting. I was remind of the small, yet painful, scrape I had acquired cleaning the closet. And the thought that hit my mind first was, 'wow,I am so lame.' Then I literally lol'd. Again, lame. But I love it. I have scars, and scratches, and bruises, that I have noooooo idea were I came to receive these little treasures. Treasure? No, not really. My thoughts were, I am such a clutz. Hahahahahhahahahahahah. Yep. I fall up. The floor hates me. Random things take swipes at me. And so on and so on. But I have come to accept this fate which has befallen me. Heck I might just start documenting them. Hmmmhm, nothing blog idea  perhaps? Sadly there are that many. Beware, here come the Storm Sakura....tehee

Hate The Bate

God, why? Why do I do this to myself? It's all just so fucking disappointing. I just need to get it all waaaaay out of my head. I will tonight, tomorrow, up to the end of this week. I will erase any factor that remained of my life that once was. What is in it to bring joy or memories worth keeping? There were once so many things that had brought me such great joy, such happiness. Now, now it is nothing. I am no longer apart of it. An I never will be again. I have become what I wanted, ha, for once in my life, I got what I wanted. To be forgot. Sigh. In way I am relieved. Sadly so. Why? Well, because of all that I gave, of the love that was shared by so many precious treasures, gone. With the snap of a finger. Not even a rumor to remain. Sigh. That is fine. All that will remain of them with be letters in the space of time. I won't even remember for why. I will erase it, all of it. From the beginning to now. As I write my story on the cover of pages to be read for future lives, I will forget. I will no longer fall foolishly before a broken spirit to their aid. No. Damn them all. ha. I guess I can never be an actual Buddhist. Or anything one with nature for that point. You can't hate life. Some say you cannot hate and love. But I do. I love this man that gives me everything. With nothing but my love in return to guide him. Now that, that is the life. I think I'll go to the river tomorrow and get my feet wet. Hm, yea, sounds like fun. After lunch with my beloved of course.

Twisted Times Again

I sit before you again, well my dear comp in your stead, in the turns of change. The most constant thing in my life is god-awful change. Its not that I don't like, by all means great things can come from it. I welcome it on happy and great occasions. When something glorious can be celebrated from the chains of change, it is a most welcoming friend. But alas it brings with a great heartache at times. For most or maybe for some changing locations can be a great adventure. For me, it is variably associated with the most negative of experiences. Hasn't ever really been something to enjoy, at all. It meant that something horrible was about to happen, or that most inevitably would come to fruition. I'm really just a broken being trying to deal with the hell I was brought up in to the world that I have found myself in today. Honestly, I am not truly sure how to cope with life situations normally. I'm still learning. The only this is if I'll make it through it.

Time To Ponder

Way to often do I spend my time wondering into the life of my past. A place that is a dangerous venture to take, no matter what time of day. My heart screams in the memory of the wounds carved upon it. Some of those wicked marks still ooze with fresh blood, trickling away the life within bit by bit. The tremor in my heart tells me to stop thinking, but my mind, well my mind can't help but float to those awful places. It seems so much harder to avoid those memories when the seems so incredibly many of them crowding my head. Sigh. It seems how each move I make seems to solidify the truth that me, my life is a failure. It is so incredibly hard to move past it. I wish I could spend so much more time with my beloved Sora, his time is more precious then thousands of pounds worth of gold. HE is the one and only thing that keeps me moving, if at all, in any direction. Forward. I do believe I want to move that way. I mean I truly cannot move backwards. I can most definitely not, fall any farther down the bitter hole. I have sank, be thrown, tripped, been buried, shattered to the extreme lengths. There is only one thing that would spiral to that darkest pit to be unable to rise. If my sweetest treasure were to disappear from my life, if we were to be no more, then I would be no more. Again I sigh. Well, to you all till I drearily ponder next time, haha, such there per-chance it may be some writings of joy. Have a lovely weekend. Make good choices.

Sigh, What Now

I sit here, a mess. Sigh. I had a horrible nightmare last night. It contained enough gore to make Saw viewers vomit. I woke, alone, feeling quiet disturbed. I was considerably claustrophobic in my room, in my house. But for some strange reason I dared no venture outside. I felt off all day. Couldn't eat much. Became a TV zombie. Totally didn't take my emotional control substances, sigh. Got sick through up dinner, sadness. What a waste of a good meal, meh. My endorphin were mildly stimulated. Oh how I love my Sora, he makes any rainy day worth dancing in. Of course my time with him is so short. And I was insufficient on my exercise scale today. Then as I showered a terrible storm of thoughts and emotions flood my poor heart, mind and soul...and...I totally crumbled. I cried, and cried and I felt as if I would never stop. So much emotion so much pain. I sat there wanting to rip my skin off. I desperately grabbed at my phone...I stopped...I realized I had no one to trust. My dear Sora was of making a living for us and here I sat lame and alone...sigh. God I am pathetic at times. I want to be stronger. More confident. I don't want all those bastards to win. I WILL MOVE ON. AHHHAHHHHHHHhhhhhh......sigh. I dial my bros number...hope I could here a voice I wasn't found so much comfort in....distance...time....circumstance....such cruel, cruel beings. He answered, thankfully. That simple sound of another human voice does so much for a broken lonely soul on the brink of self-destruction. Maybe someday...I will have more then one person I can rely on, who'll love me....maybe someday I won't be so broken....maybe someday Sora and I can just run away...

A Broken Blogger

I have come to find that blogging, like writing in a journal, has become just a tedious task, however its at this point so because of the fulfillment in my life. Well I suppose that is the best way to put it. I am still very much recovering from all the lies that filled the fountain of my life. It feels quite strange to be so free. To explore things, places, music, simply based on what I am now discovering about myself. To believe I was so disheartened that I was completely willing to surrender my life to death literally astonishes me. I do miss the fact that I feel like my youth has been wasted on the trials of corroded human beings. Oh well, I'm sorry if I have let any of you down who have been reading my blog by not being consistent. I suppose I actually don't believe anyone who reads these words of mine actually care, but that's ok. I have this form of out letting a bitt more to my liking. For some reason it just flows so much easier.
Love have a great soon-to-be weekend.

Me, The Story

Your first thoughts, your very first memories, what are they? Usually an image we can't make out or flashes of color we can't quite piece together. My first, it is the image of a mirror. A mirrored wall to be more accurate. It was the image of the living room of the house I spent my first couple of years on this planet. A place that would become the petri-dish for the disease that would, for a lifetime, fester inside of me. And that mirror will forever be a reminder, of what, well, what does my reflection show?
I haven't always known, to this day I can't even visually remember what happened in that house, my home. Home, an idea that would be shattered and twisted for so long to me, and I never even knew it. Anyways, that first house was where it all started, for the shell that is me anyway. My body can remember much better then my mind can, ever will perhaps. My tiny body was violated. For the longest time what I felt, what I experienced, I thought it was normal. However, I couldn't help but feel dirty. Wrong. Very wrong. Shortly there after we gave up that house for shack in the middle god-forsaken land. Burned and brittle, with very little to offer. The memories come in flashes. I remember school. Being sick, so sick, so often. I remember, the, the bullies. The names I was called. I remember Relatives. Their violent actions. I remember when I first fell like I could never trust anyone. I was in kindergarten. I remember always being left out. Not being good enough. I remember the first time some one told me I was worthless. That was my cousin. My brothers hadn't even been born yet. My mother gave birth to four of us wretched creatures. Raised us she did, with my father. My poor sister. Her teacher didn't like her. She had a hard time, fitting in, being focused. I tried to be strong for her, for us both. I remember that car we almost died in. My mother, my new born brother, my sister...someone...else. I remember pain. And blood. I remember being hated and not knowing why. I remember taunting back, so I didn't feel, so weak. That day when our mother hid us away from the world. No more school. Our parents would be our teacher. I became the teacher, for myself. For my sister and my two brothers. My mother became, angry. Hateful. Hurtful. My father, he stopped being at home. I remember screaming, fighting, things being thrown. Protecting my siblings, playing with them, trying to keep them safe. I remember the heat, sometimes unbearable. Over 120* at times. I remember the cold. Freezing winters. No electricity. No running water. Most of my life, that is the way it had been. It was so hard to keep cool or keep from freezing. I remember those days when we weren't sure if we would eat. Only bread. I remember making it a game with the little ones. I know how much they struggled, my parents. The couldn't hide, most of the time they didn't from me. I'm not sure why. Then mom got a job. I became the parents. I was just becoming a teen. Then other people came into our lives. Before it had only been us, all the time, every time. We became apart of our "community", as some might call it. Enmeshed even more others would say. I didn't know. I never understood. How can you when all you know is all you have been taught? This "community" was very good at "using" their "resources". I remember being used often. Most of my girl friends, well let's just say I know what a verbal punching bag is. I was an ego buster for them. And for the guys, well, I was there toy. And there was nothing I could do, why, because I was worthless. I had been told that since I was five, since I five. It had been well ingrained into me. What I felt didn't matter. Especially if my mother was "helping" someone. They needed her and she could help them. She thought we were safe. You should be safe, in your own home, in your own bed. I began to feel a if that was all I was good for, that was the only kind of love for me. That was real love, being used. I am worthless after all. I remember when my Grandmother died. She went for a visit with our Uncle and never came back. It was the first time I saw my tough father cry. It was out fault, Uncle said. And we didn't see him again. I remember loosing our home. I remember friends dying. Those first bruises my the "boys" who "loved" me, sometimes I swear I can still feel them. It was just a game. If I didn't please. I remember being touched. Hating it. Liking it. Hating myself for liking it. I remember the first time a that thin blade pierced my skin. The first time I felt in-control. I felt real. I felt at all. I remember reading others words to hide in a dream. I remember drawing life to forget the night-terrors, unable to wake myself. Dancing and poetry to express things I felt I could never say. With each passing day of this life I sank farther and farther into despair. I remember so hard trying to not exist. Trying to die. I wanted that. So much. That little putrid glass dish had become an uncontrollable illness of mass proportions. I was no longer a human. I so I feel as I look back. Just an empty shell, a fragile doll about to break.
Then the worst year of my life happened. Someone I hated worked their way into my already shattered life and obliterated it. I despised this person when first meeting. After my mother decided to help someone there was nothing anyone could say. And like all atrocious circumstances, he gravitated towards me. He lived with us, he did everything with us. It was easy for him to sink his fangs into me. His poison slowly yet surely took me over and I had lost what little I had had. I took everything from me. My heart, My soul, My virtue. I had never felt more disgusting. I felt like it was all I had to look forward to. He was everywhere. Then it happened. I had missed a month. Then another. But then I didn't. I was regular. Or so I thought. No I had a life growing inside of me. Then there was the fire, making us flee. Then the pain that sent me to the hospital. The life had come out and almost took me with it. Then deaths. Homeless. Many deaths.
For the first ever, I was to leave my family. I was going off to school. Alone. So many emotions. I never could fit well with others. I hate money. A few months went by and my father had a stroke. He was so helpless. It was horrible. That was thanksgiving. That christmas, however, would prove to be the worst day of that year. Or just a reminder of how crap, is my life. My father, still half crippled from the stroke that almost took him away, was accused of attempted murder...with a shot gun. He was swept away to prison. Unknown to us. That was a very long holiday. He was sick, invalid. We had no idea were he was. And then a week later there he was. Broken. What hell was, he knew.
That spring something amazing came into my life. My beloved Sora. The first person to make me feel like a person. I wish we had been a little bit stronger. He was the first person I told my life to. That following christmas, after he had ask my father, he asked me to marry him. I became a bit closer to reality, a little farther away from the family and all I knew. Or for awhile.
We married, what a day I couldn't wait to be over. My family almost made it unbearable. They, still to this day, believed I was being stolen. Didn't help much that they didn't prize my college graduation a few weeks earlier either. Things I had worked so hard for. All on my own. A broken doll trying to dance. In the following years I found out it wouldn't happen for long. That it should never of have. But I couldn't be who I am with out it. For the next several years would drain me down to the very last drop of life. Any passion I ever had for life, for faith, for love, siphoned away by greed leeches. I trusted people. I gave all I had and they took. I worked for this place for five years. I couldn't never please them. The path that they claimed to follow was not what it ever was really about. There were souls whom I came to love dearly. So many of them I fought for. Trying to show them love I had never experienced. They eagerly took but gave not much if anything back. A family That I took on as my own. As I should had been aware, it was a bad idea. Why? because the worst of the broken are drawn to me, and I cannot but help to let them feed off of me. I am worthless. Do what ye will. I didn't even know what was happening to me. How much more could someone be made to feel worthless? What was I? I had no faith? I wasn't strong enough. I would never be good enough. Then it all fell apart like the lie I didn't see it as. Those who I believed cared where only in it for their own agendas. No one believed in me. Was I really that awful of  person? I had done wrong. My worst mistakes were weakness. Wanting abuse and not knowing. being drawn to it. I trust snakes paints as flowers. They laid their trap, neatly bonded by what they were. The mistake of not being able to see what it was I needed. Of what they were. Abuse, any kind. It's want I needed to feel real. I didn't. Huh, now I do. How sad is the heart that helps with desires of its own, only to. I was , am so incredibly broken. I never believed I was perfect. Above anyone. In fact I believed I was lower. I always said that. Yet no one would lift me up. Not even half efforts at best. Just so they could keep me around a little longer to take what they needed from me. Now I tried harder then ever to take my life. I was so close. I was almost gone. Just a few more pills. A little more blood.
But no my beloved Sora had found his strength, and he fought for me. For months I lay here in recovery and he still fights. I look back at my life and finally feel as if I am alive. Because he loves me. His love is amazing. He fights so hard. We have been through so much. I have known a struggle or two. But I finally believe that love is more than a fairytale. That life can be real, and happy. That Bad things may happen but our choices are what can make ore break us in the end. What path we take is our choice. I could have had a much harder life. I could have made worse choices. I have love now and I will fight to keep it. This is no flight of fancy. I know it is more then a feeling. This will never disappear because we won't let it. It will change. It will grow. But it will forever be ours.
Now, now I will live in the future.
And just maybe, I am worth something...