Let Go, Be Free

I try to remember good things now, in order to not dwell on the bad. In the past, I could never reach the point of "letting go" I am at today. It is definitely a process. There is so much to remember, and I enjoy the good memories. It keeps my heart filled with continuous love. When I remember the bad that goes along with the good, it causes turmoil in my heart and begins to turn it to stone. Before, when I fooled myself into thinking I was letting go, I didn't realize I was fooling myself and actually clinging on even tighter. Digging my claws in while looking away. To keep my heart from going cold, I choose to relish sweet memories and sweet fantasies of what could have been in order to spread the love of my heart to others. I keep pictures and diaries to remember I am human. To remember we are all human. We have feelings, we have a choice. I choose to keep love in my heart and I choose to put the bad in a tightly closed box that I can still look through when I have doubts, but when I think of important people in my life, no matter how dark times may have been, I try my best to love all they had given me, in a positive light. It takes time to heal from things, places, and people that hurt you indescribably, but I think what works for me is cherishing the positive moments in order to keep the negative feelings at bay. So I don't hurt myself anymore, at all. Again, we are all human, and we will all eventually hurt again, but everyone makes mistakes... And for me to live free, I have to do what it takes to keep my mind free and know what to do in order to keep from making the same mistakes over and over again, while still holding all the love I can in my heart. With all my love, honestly, and as true as I can, I am letting go.

Breath Of The Wild

With Baited Breath
[Lisa M. Williamson]

In a place, far beyond my dreams, I romanticize of the ocean. It's salty fresh breath speaking my name, calling me to the western shore. I hear the clash of the waves against the rocky coast, like a beating heart, the drums of the ocean play the timeless tales of all of Earth's history. Caught in a web of reality, I dangle before the sea, in raw glory, naked from life's harsh realities. The sky cast me down to the face of Mother Earth herself, blue beauty of inverted gravity within the breast of the ocean. I wasn't sure of what would happen next, but the panic inside of me was also covered with a coat of love. Peering into the glistening waters, crashing, reaching out to me. I lay in my hammock of the sky's web, which I perceive as my inner darkness, keeping me from the calm inviting seas within myself.

When It Doesn't Rain, It Storms
[Lisa M. Williamson]

As if a force awakened inside me, the anxiety, sadness, anger, guilt, hopelessness was washed away in the now golden waters of the sea. Fear entered my being, not knowing what to expect in this abstract fantasy. Although I feared what would happen next, my mind already understood that there was nothing to be afraid of. As the golden waters washed over my soul, my mind freed itself and I was sent into a roaring flare to my inner universe, to see myself from the inside out. To perceive my deepest inner battles, but to also recognize the truths of doubt around me. As my eyes opened to see past false thoughts, I saw the world as a beautiful, painless place. We look into a world of discovery and realization. An epiphany of intelligence perceived through a different light. To gain a new perspective of what the world has and had to offer in such a hopeless time. To transform that negative into a positive, opening my third eye from within. To be myself, a light shining through the darkness, from past to present. From then to now, I see what was around me, and it is not so dark. It is not so terrible, as it may have seemed then. From darkness comes light, into a beautiful personification of life itself. A transformation unbeknownst to anyone but myself, a true larvae to cocoon, to butterfly. In a place of the mind I couldn't perceive through a depression, I will tell the lighter side of pain.

I Once Dreamed I Lived In A Treehouse
[Lisa M. Williamson]

As the ocean bathed me in enlightenment and washed me back ashore, the view of the world around me came into sight. As I connect with the trees of life, the branches held me so reassuringly. There were no people but I could see myself, and I could still feel the dread of my darkness entangling me in the branches. The web of calamity dangling from my limbs, around my shoulders, and down my hands, to my toes. As I was cradled by my demons, peering and laughing at me, the ocean's calm waters still remained most of all in my soul. The web of self lies was only a reminder of what to look for in the world below. My world. My perception. My own false beliefs.

Wait Of The World, A Walking Meditation
[Lisa M. Williamson]

I see myself, and every time I look inside, I see a different perspective, almost a different person altogether. I see the weight of the world on my back, on my shoulders. Self-inflicted pain, resentment, stress, agonizing helplessness. I look down, as I am covered in the silk the pain I see below, itself. I see it before my eyes, I see the sadness and despair and fear actually weighing me down. The negativity is so heavy, even in the space of the universe, I do not float in zero gravity. How I survived that feeling, those emotions, that little of self-esteem, or confidence, and helplessness, I will never understand. I couldn't let go of all that pain. I was so scared of letting go and getting lost in space. The fear of the unknown was greater than the fear of keeping all that pain. The views I had with the weight of my own world upon my shoulders, now I see what I should have done. Let go. Let the universe flow through my body, and float into space, weightless and free from the pain and agony. Free from the bondage of life I pursued, because at one point it felt comfortable. At one point it was okay, until it was so overwhelming, I feared I would lose myself if I let go. At this point, I enter myself, the web of negativity wrapping around the weight of the world, as I enter my universal body. Almost as if I erased it myself, I lifted that darkness and became a bright supernova, into the space of the universe above me. Into the Great Unknown, and into my true inner beauty.

Trellis Flowers
[Lisa M. Williamson]

Crashing into myself was the scariest, most intense moment of my life. As a dream, maybe, but now I focus away from the negativity. Away from the pain and heartbreak I bestowed upon myself. Lifting my body and soul from the Earth, into the Heavenly stars and skies above, I freed myself of the self-inflicted bondage that filled me with despair and hatred. It filled me with rage and torment, as I stared into the mirror with red glowing eyes, unrecognizable reflections peering back at me. Burst into a million pieces, becoming constellations and planets in my mind. My unconscious decision to reverse my way of thinking, blossoming and growing into a beautiful mind. A beautiful portrait of my true beliefs, my true self. Shining through the blackness, a rainbow of hearts and lights soared through the red beady eyes in my reflection and burst into a limelight of graciousness and empathy. Remembering what I stand for. Remembering what I love and miss and feel. Remembering that I am not alone in this self-inflicted inner battle. I am not alone, and I do not need to face the harshness of my own onyx thoughts and unearthly gravity. I will stand tall, and face the sun. I will face the sun of life and grow beyond sight.

Fresh Pickins
[Lisa M. Williamson]

As poppies burst to life in the light of the glorious sun above, my heart grew, and so did my soul. I soared past the web of negativity that ever-so draped around me. It's cold, drab, lifeless and silky entanglements of uncertainty melting away from the luminous flares within my heart.

All In A Row
[Lisa M. Williamson]

Feeling more gratitude and love around me. Seeing the good of sisterhood and friendship, of family and fortune. The previous pain beginning to transform into the obvious flourish that surrounds my inner being. Love and humanity. Empathy and kindness. Forgiveness and never forgetting, but doing the best one can at not dwelling to long into those red beady eyes of past pains. Glancing into the past, only temporarily fuels the motivation within to move forward, past regret.

Nighttime Bloom
[Lisa M. Williamson]

The world below me fading from the sea and trees, into a glowing and buzzing city. My hometown, with flowers blooming like poppies in the Spring from my inner exploration, dazzling the world below. The stars and moons and planets from myself light the way below. Inside myself, I find myself, and for the first time, my dreams begin and my pain subsides, not to completely end. For, that is not possible, but the pain is less, and the silky frames of the webs aren't as noticeable in the vortexes of my mind.

House On The Hill
[Lisa M. Williamson]

Picture a life without pain. Picture a beautiful scene in which you thought you could not ever see for yourself. Picture a time and place within yourself to emerge from the negative and bloom into the positive, for you are your own light, and no one can steal that from you. Whenever you feel like the webs of despair and hate fill your mind and wrap around your soul everlasting, always put yourself among the heavens and the best of your dreams, and follow that positive attitude. Do not lose hope, do not despair for long, do not dread the future. Accept what is done, and move towards hope. Move towards your love and remember you are not alone.

________________________________________________________________________________

This is a survivor's interpretation of what the aftermath of suicide might feel like in a positive light.

I hope you can read this and let your imagination soar into love and positive thoughts, because I know what it feels like to want to end the pain. Hurting yourself and your family is never the answer, so if something dark is nibbling at your soul, just remember the universe and light within is reaching out to you, and let it help you. Don't ignore the love of those who smile. Even in darkness, there is light.

They Say...

They say, a joker hide behind a smile.

They say, royalty hide behind wealth.

They say, politicians hide behind power.

They say. beauty queens hide behind makeup.

They say, the wicked hide behind scars.

They say, addicts hide behind drugs.

They say, pain isn't real.

They say, a picture is worth a 1000 words.

They say, I should care what others think.

Actually, I don't care what others think... Smile... Wealth... Power... Scars... Makeup... Drugs... Pain...

You can have it. I don't need it anymore.

Darkness Engulfed

The darkness engulfs me,
No light shines through.
My soul screams and fights,
My heart starts to wither.

I hear someone screaming,
But they are not frightened.
They are screaming my name,
And I think I see light.

Hope flutters in my heart,
And it doesn't look so withered now.
My soul screams back,
Fighting even harder now.

This fleck of light grows bigger,
And soon I am blinded.
 My heart beats wildly,
And now my soul cheers and sings.

The light is so bright,
But I walk forward.
Arms stretched out,
My voice wavering 'Hello?'

I see her now,
A woman before me smiling.
Her arms are outreached,
She beckons me.

I hug her tightly,
Sobs quieted by the sound of her heart.
I close my eyes and sleep,
Only to wake in my bed.

This dream was not just a dream,
My cry for help was answered.
My God helped  me and her arms,
Comforting as she embraced me.

The message was clear,
I now know what I have to do.
Follow her voice,
And look toward the light.

Fort Justice

The clash of swords.

War. Anguish.

Something rotting and decomposing

Scattered weapons upon withered earth.

The soil upturned from struggles between men.

The ground consumes the blood.

This land soon becoming hungry for man.

Shrill cries of agony and death.

Bellows of man charging forward.

Hoping to live another day.

Sweat and stench clench the bodies

Of men alive and men dead.

Their corpses are nameless.

Ties between fact and fiction

Become a blur, none too distinguishable.

There are those that hide, hoping for

It all to just disappear, only to be found.

No mercy shall be shown.

For this is a war against Gods.

Men blinded to see that it was a just cause.

That the death of man brings forth the life

Of a just and noble God.

Others scared.

Fighting for their families and land.

Pillaging and ravishing.

Tearing apart homes, lives, families.

Fighting to do what is what they believe is right.

For nothing more than an opinion.

Or even for plunder.

Treasure.

The clashing metal of swords and shields

Lead to turmoil and hate.

What could be brothers are now enemies.

What could have been happy is now afraid and sad.

But we are all just fighting for what we believe in.

The scribing of pen on paper.

Of the sound of voice to the open air.

The splatter of paint to canvas.

It is all thought of as our own personal battle.

Between ourselves.

Alone is to be Alone

A friend. A best friend. Where is my best friend? It seems like I cannot find my way amongst the living. 

I used to be able to blend in and seem normal. But something happened. 

Experience, I believe, happened. My open heart was closed shut by the tragedies of yesterday. 

Like old newspaper turned yellow, but was once interesting and pristine. Now, dirtied by the outside world.

Things happen to us, good and bad. I believe everything happens for a reason, because each time, I learn.

Cumbersome and sorrowful, or even joyous and benevolent. 

Social circumstances eventually became easy, and the burden of loneliness subsided for the time being. 

Later on in life, the loneliness crept back in somehow and spread like a plague. 

It feels like trying to dig my way out of a hole six feet deep, with dirt as dry and hard as a desert floor. 

It is a plague. Personal as it is, it haunts until you feel it so far down in your soul, that you forget to feel sad about it. 

The feeling of self-pity quiets for a while and you actually become used to being solo. 

Like an animal that prefers to be alone, so there is no competition. Sometimes there is no sense to it. 

Feelings don't make sense sometimes. There is only the feeling, alone. 

Nothing else can truly explain why sometimes it feels okay to be alone... 

But that is denial.

It doesn't feel okay. It feels like I'm splitting in half, starting at my heart.

The sensation of being placed on the rack, a torture device used to stretch you from limb to limb.

Trying to make friends is like rocket science now. I can't seem to make sense of it.

What on Earth is wrong with me? Every attempt seems to fail, or putter out.

The next best thing is to climb back on the horse, and do so, no matter how many times I fall off.

Relearning what feels comfortable, and finding that one true best friend.

The Surface

So here we go again,

With the loopty loop,

And the long drawn-out,

Typography letters,

Trying oh-so-hard,

To make an impression,

On complex minds,

Or simple minds,

Cursive, half cursive,

Bunched up,

Upside down letters,

Trying to be noticed,

And to make awe,

Or maybe trying to be,

Unique or boring,

Something along the lines,

Of insanity and serenity,

All wrapped up in one,

Big and bold,

Tiny and thin,

There is no,

Making sense,

Of these compilations,

Of letter and arrows,

Stars and squiggly lines,

Making an impression,

On a train,

The side of a building,

A canvas or notebook paper,

To be recognized,

By other young urban folk,

To call out your name without sound,

And to shock and protest,

To lie and steal from your mind,

It does not hide often,

But it can be sneaky,

Oh the urbanity,

It creeps along city streets,

Galloping and hopping,

From eye to eye,

Near or far,

It awaits attention,

Craves it,

Until covered up,

Only to present,

A new blank canvas,

To be further worked on,

And in due time,

Under construction it may be,

It will be revealed,

To further grab you by the shirt,

And say "HEY, LOOK AT ME!"

Creativity.

Mrs. Misery

She wants to leave so bad,
But he won't let her.
All she does is sit around the house,
Looking at all the dingy objects,
Looking at all the books she's read 5 times over.
Her face is bruised,
And so is her dignity.
There she is, like a wallflower, just waiting.
Waiting for 5:00 to roll around,
So she can start cooking the roast.
He's home, and hungry,
He's tired, and angry.
She sets the table, and smiles sweetly,
He doesn't even acknowledge her.
She looks down, and leaves the room.
She cries momentarily,
Then returns to the kitchen.
He's in his Recliner, watching TV,
So she fixes herself a plate.
It's cold.
She does the dishes,
Then sits on the couch.
She's not interested in The Ed Wynn Show,
As she secretly glares at her husband.
She's lonely with him around,
Ugly with him around,
Sad with him around.
He's an all-around Misery Maker.
She leaves the TV room,
Going to the closet in their bedroom.
There, in an old hat box,
Lay her solution,
And she already feels a weight lifted.
She moves the box under her side of the bed,
And dresses into her nightgown.
She puts a change of clothes
Under the bathroom cabinet.
Walking in the kitchen,
She grabs the Cream of Kentucky Bourbon,
Pours a glass,
And sits on the couch.
After-while, they retire to bed.
She lays, with her eyes open,
And when she thinks he's really asleep,
She quietly pulls out the hat box,
Opens it, and
Grabs the .38 Revolver.
After making sure there's a bullet in the chamber,
She walks over to his side of the bed,
Pointing the gun right at his head,
She wakes him up.
"I just want you to know,
Before I kill you,
That you made my life
Miserable,
And I wonder why you
Even married me. But I
Don't believe in divorce.
'Til death do us part."
He was so shocked,
He didn't even move.
He just held his hand out,
As if signaling her to stop.
Before he could say anything,
She pulled the trigger.

A Place I Don't Want To See Again

There's this one place, a hotel, where beds are messy and things are scattered. Tools and objects. No good.
Another place, that smells of cigarettes, an apartment, with bedbugs under the bed. Nothing but beer and chicken in the fridge. A place of indecisiveness and hate. Filled with sarcasm and "couldn't-care-less" attitudes.
Another place, a run-down house, filled with people I don't know. Drugs. Dirty. Awkward. Strange.
Another place, a street, where others' doings are private, but not secret. Hoopin' and hollerin'. Loose, careless bodies. Blood was spilled. People, me, hurt.
Another place, a facility, where lost souls are taken in, droves at a time, and nurtured back to life. Where they are given guidance, structure, and a second chance. Some people take it, some leave it. Filled with people of all kinds; differences, but still the same.
Another place, where mentally unstable people go to figure out their troubles. Friends are made, but never kept. Where some workers are mean and strict, and some understanding and loving. They hold yoour hand in all but the physical sense.
Another place, a place where lives are saved, but unpleasant nonetheless. Uncomfortable. Awkward. Boring. Sedation.
Another place, a house with rooms packed with beds. No room to breathe. Requirements and responsibilities. Thieves and shape-shifting, conniving women. You want to be friends, but it's vulnerability they feed on, luring you in for the taking. Taking advantage, that is. Taking serenity. No room for peace of mind.
Another place, a city, made up of country singers, drug dealers, homeless drunks, and all the other entrails of a big city. Its familiar streets make me want to puke, and I don't ever want to be there alone again. Too close to old people who use and abuse. Mistreat. I try to think of other things, but that's essentially all I can think about when I'm there.

I need my soundness. My serenity and my family. Because, that's where I really want to be.

I Bleed Ink

We meet again. My hand on pen, which meets paper. The words form on paper, but do not wish to be revealed by tongue. At a loss for words, when the words are, in fact, there. Yet, no one understands them, as if I'm speaking tongues. An ancient language others can't seem to fathom. My heart and my mind grow weary of trying to explain what doesn't want explaining. Ashes to ashes. I'm afraid I'll never meet the right person to share my burdens with. Yet, I have. This book. The gateway to my sanity. Where will you take me? Nowhere. You are but a book. Pages that are combustible. All evidence is distraught though ink, which bleeds unto this very page. My mind cannot stop... And my hand, which holds the pen --my lifeline-- cannot move fast enough. Until the next time my heart tells a story, adieu!

Posted on dVerse

Rejoice

     Breathe the breath of dignity into my lungs. Pump the blood of courage through my veins. Feed me knowledge, and play the songs of serenity. I await the day that I can sit back, stare at the ceiling, and know that everything is going to be okay. The world in my eyes looks shallow and short-lived. I do not have enough time to accomplish what I would like. But instead, to achieve serenity I cannot look at the world, I have to look at myself. My insides, my guts, my brain matter. I have to poke and prod and find all the leaks and broken valves that make me defected. These shortcomings are so bold and outspoken, yet my innermost self, the real me, is shy and quiet. The thoughts of things with horrible outcomes or shocking results are louder than ever. The thoughts of good deeds and glorious praises that lead to the road of confidence and composed tranquility are mere whispers. It tears me apart to know that the thoughts that drive these bad behaviors are hard to overcome just to hear a few simple suggestions from my innermost psyche. As time goes on, and the road becomes less rocky, these thoughts that are genial and positive become more gregarious and livelier. Staring at the ceiling with a smile on my face, the time has come to rest my body, mind, and soul. Falling into a deep slumber, I am at peace, and the afterlife awaits.

Write a scene about gold ballet shoes and a deciduous tree.

     As the young girl tip-toe runs through the barren forest with brown, orange, and red leaves scattering the ground, she stifles a giggle. Looking frantically behind her, she tries her hardest to keep quiet since they are playing hide-and-seek, but the crunchy leafed bedding on the floor of the woods keeps her from being so stealthy. Since she thinks she finally lost her older sister Betsy, she hides behind a huge moss-covered log of a tree that had fallen years ago by one of the worst storms in Minnesota, and was beginning to fall apart by the rotting core. Catching her breath, and listening for the foliage to rustle as a sign her sister may be near, she peeps her head over the green, fuzzy, whats-left-of-a-tree log. All you can see is her brown curls frizzy and doused with leaves and brush from twigs and a dirty face with bright green eyes. She smiles and her pink cheeks perk up, knowing she found the best and safest spot to hide. Her sister will never find her here. As she waits, she leans back against the moist wood of the dead fallen tree and begins to day dream, slowly drifting into a soft slumber.
     Not knowing how long it had been, the young girl opens her eyes and stands at attention, knowing she was going to be in BIG trouble with her Paw, since she isn't supposed to be out after dark, and it's far past dusk. Hopefully not too late, though. Running through the woods, she begins to cry, because she can't see anything and all the paths look the same. After collapsing and sobbing to herself in her arms, she hears a rustle behind a bush near a huge deciduous tree that she has never seen before. It is beautiful, and almost seems to have a feint glow to it. A bit frightened at the noise, she decides it was some pesky animal rustling through the brush, but her eyes can't seem to leave the tree. It is still full of life, the colorful dead leaves have yet fallen as the others have.
     The leaves aren't all brown, but orange, yellow, dark brown, and different shades of the colors. Walking closer, she feels almost a pull towards the tree. It is huge, and she can't see the tops of it, because it is so dark and cloudy about halfway up, or so. Creeping closer, she reaches out a hand, carefully stepping against the now moist foliage on the ground. Her toes squish in the leaves over the wet dirt, mushing brown water between her toes. Not even phased, she touches the tree with one hand, drawing her arm back quickly. The tree is abnormally ice cold, and it is humid and sticky in the air, so it doesn't make any sense to the girl. Still entranced, she touches both hands to the cold bark of the deciduous tree. The mahogany glows where her hands lay. The tree seems to push in where her hands are, as if the warmth of her palms are opening a strange mythical door. She abruptly stops, looking at her hands, and back at the tree. The glowing where her hands were begin to fade, and she steps back a moment.
     Smiling, and feeling quite adventurous, a feeling like she is in a fantasy story tale, she then presses even harder with her hands, soon making an opening that's just big enough for her to climb through. She enters head first, trying to look around. It is dark and she falls to the floor which is that of a tree stump. Standing, she brushes her dirty hands on her white nightgown, smearing dirt on the front. As the glowing opening closes, a dim light comes from a tunnel that seems to lead underground. Is it magic? Are there fairies and genies? Treasure or another fabulous hiding spot? She gets on her hands and knees, creeping toward the glowing tunnel underground. It is just big enough for her young petite form. She crawls through and crawls more, until she reaches an opening to an underground lair where cement walls and columns hold the ground up. There are torches lit all over the room. Ahead there is a stone throne, with a skeleton with thinning hair and a long grey beard that hangs around his bony drooped jaw. She gasps and stifles a surprised shriek.
     Walking slowly towards the throne, she crosses a long stone path that has water on either side, dark and mysterious to what swims under the murky liquid that seems to have a look of tar. Still barefoot, her dirty feet slap the path, as she slowly creeps to the throne which is occupied by a once-important being. Reaching out, she picks up a gold ring on the ground where (at one time) it fell off of the skeletons bony hand. Her heart races from excitement, and terror at the same time. What was this place? Are there more rooms? There is a wooden chest with a padlock, sitting in the skeleton's lap. It is small, but looks valuable. As she carefully grabs the chest to look closely, cobwebs and dust separate from the bony structure of a had-been man. As she moves the chest, a rustling sound from above her, and immediately shrieks of bats begin to fill her ears. She turns quickly and runs down the path screaming, with the wooden chest in her arms, and the ring over her finger. Making it to the hole she climbed through earlier, she tosses the chest on the ground in front of the tree and quickly squeezes out.
     As she continues to run in fear, she looks back and sees the glowing entrance grow smaller and disappear. Running aimlessly, she finds her way back to the farm. Relieved, she walks through the tall grass towards the wooden house which has flickering candles in the window. She sighs and looks at the chest, hoping there's something special inside that may please her father, whom she knows is waiting up for her to come home. Scared, she slowly creeps up the steps and waits by the door for a moment, her heart racing and adrenaline pumping. Calming herself down, she closes her eyes and breathes deep breaths, before reaching out to open the screen door. Closing it softly behind her, she creeps in, but as she thought, her father is perched in his favorite rocking chair by the fire, puffing on his tobacco pipe. Grimy, dirty, and frazzled, the girl looks to the ground, and sets the chest at her father's feet.

{{{{TO BE CONTINUED!!!}}}}

Write a story in the form of a pool, with a shallow end and a deep end.

She steps on the stage, the music blasting bass in the background, the lights moving around the room. The colorful lights bounce off her milky white skin. She swings her hips, and the tassels on her bikini bottoms flicking to one side, and the other as she rotates her hips, the tassels twitching at every bump of the bass. She reaches behind her, with her arms overhead, and leans back on the shiny pole in the middle of the stage. Her hips continue to roll as she leans further back, her back arching further, until she picks herself off the floor, and swings her legs in the air, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Her blond curls brush the dance floor as she wraps her legs around the pole and slides down, arching her back once again, reaching her arms out and stretching head first across the stage on her belly. Glitter glistens off her torso, as her breasts push against the floor and her body. Her eyes seducing, when she jumps to all fours, heels touching the ground. She pops her derriere to the bass a few times before standing slowly, rolling her abs and crossing her legs, making a 180 degree turn, making an A with her legs, she touches her toes and wiggles her fat bottom, cheeks swaying side to side. Standing with her back turned against the onlookers, she unties her green lacy bikini top and holds her arms in front of her breasts, pushing them up making her cleavage bountiful and bouncy looking. She sways her body side to side, one arm thrown out to the side, as the other soon follows and the top is fallen to the floor. She kicks it off the stage, and reveals her perky breasts with small round pink nipples, pale and fresh. She squats to the floor, and perches on one knee, her hands balancing her to the floor. She squeezes her breasts between her arms and slowly rolls her hips from side to side, changing rotation every other beat. Biting her lower lip, she gracefully reaches over her head and stands all the while arching her back, doing a backflip in the most graceful way, doing a front split slowly in the middle of the flip, landing softly back on her heels, she turns and struts off stage, her bottom swaying on the way out.

Today has been a long day. I need to call my sponsor person but i am weary about it at the same time. Gosh this sucks.

These Days

These days have become quite unfathomable. I stop and think about everything I've done, and I can't believe it. Am I dreaming? Is this some sick joke? It can't all be true, but that's the disease. It feels like it's someone elses life. I feel so outside of myself. What's happening? I don't like this, at all. So, here I go... Another day down, and countless more to go. Where my feet will lead me, only God will know.

DETERMINATION

I want great things to happen in my life. I wish it was easy to quit bad habits. To me, it's an addiction, and I want to indulge in it so bad. I just can't help myself. I want and need help. Take this as a sign... I want to get at least 2 jobs, since I'm out of school. Save up as much money as I can for a P.O.S. car, save up enough to move out of THE house. I want to live on my own... By myself, in a wore out ugly place that was able to lock up securely, even if it means living on Crump Blvd. I want to start looking into getting money from grants and loans to go back to school at U of M, and major in Social Work. I want all of these things. I know I'm ready. I screwed up in the past, but I'm over PARTY time, and I want to get sober and do the things I need to do. Even if it's starting out slow by taking part-time core classes at STCC before transferring to U of M... Working a full-time job during part-time classes, and trying my damned to do the same with full-time classes at U of M. I really want help, and I'm serious this time. I'm close to being 21, and I need to get on the roll. So, I will keep in touch.

xoxo
Lindsey

Fire Alarm

I can hear it in a far distance,
As if I am standing at the end of a dark hallway,
Something all of the sudden behind me,
Quickly raising the hairs on the back of my neck,
Making me gasp as I turn to see what it is.

I abruptly sit up in bed as my heart skips,
Feeling as if the wind was just knocked out of me,
My nerves feel quick as my mind is numb,
A tingling sensation rises in my legs as I try to stand,
Fumbling for shoes and clothes.

I am in a deep slumber as I dream of pleasant things,
Benadryl pumping through my system,
As peaceful as a fresh summer morning as the sun rises,
Suddenly interrupted by the clash of swords and chaos,
Dark thunderclouds cover the backs of my eyelids.

Thump thump lulls the rhythm of my heart,
Missing one too many beats that it should have thumped,
Hard to swallow and blurred vision makes me anxious,
The sound of the crude siren began to muffle,
The ringing in my ears overpowering the ghastly trumpet.

Cold and chilly I feel as if I awoke from a terrible nightmare,
My thoughts frizzled and my blood pressure high,
A shiver runs through my body as the noise continues,
More sirens as the big red caterpillar of a truck turns the corner,
Screaming back at the Banshee behind brick walls.

A return to my peaceful slumber,
My nerves finally settled in,
A parting with the horrid thoughts,
Of nightmares and loud things,
Rest awaits me as I fall back into dream land.

Never more said the young girl,
Who still cannot sleep,
From the Banshee that lives in her building,
Creeps up behind her,
Every now and again screaming in her eternal nightmares.

Him...

He walks through the shadows on a windy night. Stepping through snow covered veils of a willow tree.

He strides across his desert-covered floor, pads of his boots wearing low. Stop and put your sunglasses on boy.

Don’t tread on me, or I will go crazy. I don’t think you know me.

Jump, sing, shout, and hear! I cannot see my eyes they aren’t in front of me. Clapping heels across a wooden floor!

Lingering in a dust covered room. Not knowing what to think, or much less do. I can’t believe you see that way, look a little closer.

Stinging in my brain, nothing to release it. I need another shot of that crack, please baby freebase it.

Nothing got me higher than to look at your purple eyes, screaming with serenity. Quite possibly I’m dying, but nothing is to say for sure.

Jabbering jaws curling with green foliage. Creepy-crawling creatures on the bathroom floor.

Fields of leaves a-falling, one by one with no aim. Aimlessly floating onto their future grave. One, two, three, four, something’s knocking at my door!

Swaying tolls of textured sounds, slowly leaking my brain out. Nothing can quite compare to my boring times.

Taking one step after another, in order to the rhythm. I’m keeping tune with my leaders.

I think the NyQuill kicked in...

I'm not so much afraid anymore, as I am mostly saddened. I see all these happy faces, then I look in a mirror. With such a happy-looking face, there's something deeper. Hidden under the mask of smiles and laughter, there is nothing worse than feeling alone and unwanted. Not in such a sense that I don't feel like people aren't wanting to be around me, it is that I feel that no one wants to be with me, in the terms of companionship. Even though there are people out there that seem incompatible with me, I want the chance to possibly be compatible with someone. Not everyone is compatible at first. Everyone gets a chance with each other, but mainly because of looks and lust. I don't get that chance, and if I do, it's not with anyone I really care for. Not once has someone asked me out, not once has someone offered to be my boyfriend. Not once, and it hasn't happened in a long time, and it makes me sad. Sad and feeling alone. I feel that no one wants to take the chance to get to know me better, in terms of dating and relationships closer than friendships. It's happening all around me, with couples going back and forth between in-love and out-of-love. It's not as exciting as it sounds, but I want to say that it happened to me, too. I want to be able to give advice, in terms of experience. Instead, I give advice in terms of other people's experiences as they tell me things. I see happy puppy-love faces, and people holding hands. Eating together at meals, and befriending each others friends. I want to experience the love and hardship, the pain and confusion that couples have. I haven't had it in years, and I want to be able to say that I, too, experienced what my friends tell me about. I want to say "I know what you mean" and actually mean it! I want I want I want. To feel alone is to want an abundance of nothing. It's just not going to get any better until it actually happens. So... HAPPEN!

Boredom

Something fun that me and Peter did at school in the apartment breezeway. The Pictures are posted in order of what we did to them. Enjoy!