And So It Begins...

It begins with me being me. My brain has fully malfunctioned and I am truly beyond repair. My heart is torn between the sheets and my dreams are becoming nightmares. There is prose in the poetry of my mind, but it isn't setting itself upright. It is falling by the wayside, and it is wishing it were nothing more than a simple smile that says "hello" on a rainy, dreary day like today.

There are mysteries that unravel themselves, tied to my bedposts, wishing they were not the knots of time and time's circumstance. Waiting patiently for the end, I caress the sides of his face, look into his faraway eyes, and see that he doesn't wish to see me but how I stay in his sight anyhow.

Some may think it's unhealthy, unwise; I choose to think it's simply unfortunate. Time, as we all know, is a cruel and unusual thing. It is fought to the finish with breath, heartbeats, and tongue lashings. We all think we can change time, but time can only change us. That's the beauty of it. How she simply continues on without care, and how we cannot help ourselves as we dream of the many ways we desire her change.

And so it begins... The beginning of something beautiful; the beginning of the end.

Fairytale Ending - TT Limo

It slithered like black mercury around the corner, inching its way toward the empty space in front. Marked with stones and slate and freshly dying orchids, the space would remain lifeless until the serpent came to rest. The beast is unassuming, but within the cavern is much to be discovered. Blood red plush velvet interior waits patiently to embrace those who enter. Crystal goblets glowing with champagne long to be lifted to lovers' lips.

A swarm of bright smiles, sparkling from the sun crying down, begin filling the space before the obsidian creature. Glassed, happy eyes fail to notice clothed fingers stealthily reaching around the handle to lift and open the gateway, and the ebony shadow quietly ensures that all is perfect so his existence as the keeper of the dark serpent is unnoticed. Idle chatter is drowned by laughter and anticipation as all eyes are poised, directly or peripherally, on the old wooden and iron doors.

Ivory tulle, satin, and lace emerge, accessorized by the hapless man, like a cloud floating through the beaming eyes and iridescent bubbles. Hope has mastered the high tide today, and the happy couple shift seamlessly from grey concrete to scarlet velvet. The chauffeur quietly shuts the door. On his way to the helm, he keeps one hand on the shiny onyx facade.

Once inside, he separates himself from the elation flowing from behind. Expressionless, he begins the journey he now knows is just the beginning of the fairytale ending.

JeffScape's* Shear Insanity

He won't post, and he's going to be pissed at me for doing this, but for those of you who want to see, here are the before, during, and after pics of JeffScape's* Shear Insanity coming to fruition!

This is the "before" pic. JeffScape* was not being cooperative in the picture taking process. Feigned shyness. Some have called this look "gorgeous." I think they need an immediate visit to their optician.

He had enough freakishly thick hair for TWO massive ponytail donations!

The cut!

What are those creatures???

The style! Doesn't he look so cute with the clippies in?

The final look. Dare I say he looks hot? Well, almost. ;)

*edited to add his blog name since he linked over here himself.

Strange Joy: TT Shadow

She ran her fingers gently across the spines, squinting to read the titles in the dim dancing light, though she already knew them by heart. She enjoyed seeing the gilded letters shine in strange tempos by the flickering candles. As she tickled the paper covers of her collection, she was aware that her obsession with order was some sort of coping mechanism--an attempt to bring stability into her otherwise chaotic life.

She found the book she didn't even know she'd been looking for and slid her index finger lovingly up its spine. Her fingertip curled around the top edge of the cover to remove the title from the shelf, hesitating as a tinge of sorrow furrowed her brow. The facial twitch was quick and barely noticeable, but the hollowness forming in her stomach was more prominent as she thought of the empty space she was about to create.

Carefully removing the book from its dusty home, her excitement grew in anticipation of embarking on her favorite way to escape the misadventure of her life. She noticed how the candlelight created a new kind of darkness to fill the empty space. The deception placated her enough that a smirk briefly appeared on her face, eyebrows raised and eyes sparkling with genuine amusement. It seemed strange to her that such a thing was enough to cover the hole left by her escapist desires, but there is joy when dancing shadows fill our darkest sadness.

Almost

It was a beautiful day. The sun shone through gently scattered clouds, the ocean breeze blew against my skin, cooling me just enough so that the temperature felt perfect, and the sand beneath where I laid on my favorite towel contoured perfectly around my body. Children were laughing and splashing in the ocean, chasing the waves and being chased by them. It was an almost perfect scene.

Almost perfect isn't perfect though, and I can't help but dwell on the imperfections of that day and be saddened by the impossibility of fairy tales. Never again will my family be intact, enjoying a lovely day at the beach in the blissful happiness I'd always imagined. Though, if I'm honest with myself, we never really have - at least not until we separated.

There is a such a profound sadness in knowing that the only reason my husband and I were ever able to have the kind of wonderful vacation we should have been having for the past nine years is because I left him... Well, almost. I haven't fully left yet, but we are separate.

Almost. It's a terrible word. It's a word that lets you know that you've fallen short. But it's the closest I'll ever come to happy.

Time is Worth

The world is not fair. It is a harsh and cruel place full of sadness, loneliness, and hate. The earth today is barren and war-torn. At every corner, every juncture, there is a broken heart writhing in a pain so unimaginable, it seems that killing its owner would be the only merciful thing to do. This is my world. Full of realizations meant to bring strength while being decimated by my confused inner demons fighting amongst themselves. Always at odds, the emotional and logical thought processes are constantly pulling and pushing, fighting and tearing, ripping and desecrating one against the other.

Never the victim. I've always thought of myself as stronger than so many others. And I am. But I have recently discovered a dirty, corroded hole in my so often used armor. It has been found and infiltrated by the very person it was built most strongly against. Only because he owns the gift is he able to see the blood-rusted gape, and only because he holds my heart is he able to know exactly where and how to twist the knife.

It hurts. To my core, the physical pain pales in comparison to the searing ache of the broken heart. Deep within my chest, it still beats, but it pounds painfully to keep me awake when I need sleep, quickly when I need to be calm, to slow when I need to move, and in its own unique and unpredictable pattern when I need a self-created sense of stability the most.

Is it worth it? Is it worth the upheaval of the known, the torture of the unknown, and the uncertainty I've always run away from? Only time will tell.

Sunset, Wine, and Chocolate

It's been a tumultuous year. It was a year ago that my bubble burst. It had a sound, like one of those cartoon bubbles that bursts above the head of a deflated character. That's the moment I knew that I was broken and out of love and couldn't continue on the pretend fairy tale path I'd imagined for myself.

Floating through the next few months, I remember the never ending feeling of dread every time I thought of the endless number of directions my life could go if I made the decision I knew I had to make. That's the rub. Choose certain misery or choose a mere chance for happiness, whatever happiness is. I haven't figured that much out yet and am not sure I'm cut out for it anyhow.

So, here I sit writing my very first real blog. Drinking Barefoot Merlot straight from the bottle and eating my favorite chocolates after walking on a nearly deserted beach at sunset. I'm waiting on the next move. Waiting to become a better person and fighting with myself about the journey I should be taking and the one I actually am.

I'm living with a man who abused me for years and vacillates. with whiplash speed, between being contrite and still in love with me and thinking of new ways to hurt me; finagling (it's the fab new word for fucking) and wanting more than I should from an extremely hot younger guy who is in love with another woman and certainly doesn't need nor want my drama in his life anyhow. Waiting patiently for my best friend to berate me every time I call him with my newest stupid decision that I already know is stupid before he reminds me repeatedly.

All of them are hurting me for my own good. They've all said it in some form or another. That's my favorite part of my relationships. It's actually become a masochistic point of pride. That I'm so comfortable to people that they don't even notice me is almost wonderful. I wonder, though, when someone will actually appreciate me before the part of me devoted to him has been broken to a billion unrepairable pieces. More importantly, would I even know what to do with that? Melodramatic? Maybe. But isn't life?

Adventures In My Midlife

At the beckoning of others... Well, only one other... I'm going to step gently into the world of blogging. I might simply skim the tip of a toe across the water, starting ripples not quite strong enough to make a difference, or I may dive in headfirst and still not make a difference.