Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Coming Out

The collective "they" say it's a lifelong process. I'm only just beginning to understand what this means. Everyday I think of another person, another two people, another group of people that I haven't told.

I have to keep reminding myself that this will all be worth it. When the tears come, I let them flow. But sometimes, I still find myself swallowing them, fighting them back. I try to be strong for the people who can't handle this. I still have so many fears, so many people that don't know, so many people that might hurt me when they find out.

I try to stand tall. I try to keep walking forward. But with each step comes so much pain that it nearly brings me to my knees. Going numb seems like a good option. Wake me up when all of this is over.

Sunday, May 17, 2009


Another face. Hers resembles mine so much I wish for nothing more than to smack it away. Her dull gray eyes mirroring mine, shape, color, all things match. I've run from this face my entire life, trying to hide my own likeness to it. Cutting my hair. Gaining weight. Caking on the makeup. All to no avail. Her eyes are my eyes. Her mouth is my mouth. Two shaky steps back, running from myself. Mirrors everywhere, her face in each one. Go away. I scream. Leave me alone. I want nothing more of you. You never wanted me. I reminded you of him. I reminded him of you. Neither parent wanting the child for the features of the other. Running from you my entire life, I face you now. Boldness. Courage. Certainty. It's myself in you that I have been running from. Not wanting to admit how much like you I am. Stumbling along the road to self discovery. Making huge mistakes. Trying to correct them. Unsuccessful. My own fear keeping me rooted to the spot. Trying to run with leaden feet. How to get away. How to get away. Come to me my daughter. She calls my name. Ellohcin. Ellohcin. Ellohcin. Where have you gone my Ellohcin. Come to me. Let me help. Her hair sways around me in the wind, wrapping me in its familiar scent. White sage purifies. Smudge sticks. Secrets pouring. Sweet escape.

A Burden. A Curse

Empathy. A curse. A burden somehow mine to bear. Photographic memory. The look of pain burned into my mind. To feel what everyone else around you is feeling and to worry more about them than about yourself. To never be able to forget. To not be able to escape. There must be some way, some way out of the darkness. A face, beautiful, beckoning. Hope. Light. Reaching, not being able to touch. Falling. Falling. Falling. Forever down. Forever stuck.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Always Running

The things we want the most are most often the things we cannot have. Learning this has been a long and hard journey for me. I tend to do this more often than not. Forbidden, taboo, banned, off-limits, impermissible, unattainable. These are the words I most often try to disprove. Putting restrictions on things make me want to break free. My own natural rebellion, fighting against everything that tries to hold me down.
Wings spreading, wind whipping, freedom calling. Running. Running. Running. Get away. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Freeze, a third option is presented. Two is more than enough. A third had to be thrown in to complicate things further. Get out. Get out. Get out. Everything within me screams. Now. Now. NOW. Before it hurts even more.
Her face in front of me, coaxing me forward. Taunting. Teasing. I reach for her, taking her by the waist, pulling her close. Foreheads, noses, lips meet. Bodies pressed together, pulsing, grinding. Wanting. Needing. There is little difference anymore. Pushing away. Pulling back together. Pushing away. Pulling back together. The two halves of myself fighting for dominance. Ignoring the inner battle, I fight to stay in the moment. Kissing, licking, clutching, scratching. Sadism. Masochism. Pain. Pleasure. Blood. Moaning. Biting. Her clothes falling to the floor, mine following close behind. Ripped, torn from each others' bodies. Rushing to be free from the oppression of clothes. Our bodies press together, naked, exposed. Red blood running over white skin, making it whiter still. Sweet sweat, blood smeered. Pleasure derived from pain. Moaning her name. Kissing her scratch marks. Biting her neck. Licking. Hemophilia. Sadism. Masochism. Lips meeting again, tongue caressing. Her hair falling around both our shoulders, covering us from the world.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Not Again.

Your hands moving along my body. My shoulders, my waist, my hips. Tingling spreading limb to limb. Blushing, hoping you don't see. Bodies moving, swaying, pulsing, rhythmic beat. Your breath on my neck, behind my ear. I feel you everywhere. Hands clutching, searching, exploring. Nothing is the same, yet it is all the same. Lips meeting for the first time. Feels so familiar, yet so foreign. Bodies pressing together in passion, then being torn apart by realization. This isn't right. This isn't right. This isn't right. Every beat of our hearts says that. Yet the gravity between us moves us involuntarily. Together. Apart. Together. Apart. Constant magnets being turned. Trying to find the opposite ends but too much alike. Lips locking, hands clutching, clothes falling to the floor. Bodies tumbling. Further. Further into bliss. Deal with the aftermath in the morning. Tonight. I just want you.


In one word, that about sums up my life right now. And I'm just about sick of it being that way. I'm sick of being confused. That's the main thing. The worst feeling in my world is feeling confused. And my body just isn't helping. It shouldn't react the way it does to the things it does. Did that even make sense? I guess it did. Hands touching, heart racing, body tingling. Center. Recenter. Focus. No. Yes. Old conclusions aren't working. New realizations are becoming more and more painful. Wanting to leave one minute, not wanting to leave the next. Needing a break but afraid to do so because it would become permanent. Living in denial of my true self, my true nature, easier than revealing the truth to people whose love is completely conditional. Not wanting to rock the boat, but wanting to be heard for once in my freaking life. Wanting to throw everything away and live impulsively, but being too afraid to do so. Not wanting to stay here, tied down, not living, but too afraid to leave too. What to do. Options spinning in my head, my mind never being able to settle on one. Torn in so many directions, where to go next. Wanting to run, but wanting to break the cycle. How to do both. Empathsizing with my psychotic mother, what have I come to? Understanding the feeling of needing to run, wanting to run more than anything else. To just pick up and leave and go and set down roots somewhere where no one knows me. Then I can be whoever I want, whatever I want. Why am I tied to a place where I shouldn't be, where all I want to do is get away. How do I get away. The world is run by money. I may not like it, but it doesn't mean that I don't have to follow it. What other way is there. So, yes, complicated. Paradoxical. Me.