Endings?

All I sense is endings, I feel like I can't hold on to anything I want to. Or perhaps I feel that I shouldn't, that if it is meant to end I must let it... for everyone's sake. I don't know if I have the will to make new connections, no one seems interesting, or honest.
Maybe I'll end up like her, building a life I enjoy and sharing it with no one.
I have this voice in the back of my head telling me, oh so matter of fact-ly, that I should end things myself since I see it coming to make it easier. Easier on me by being the one in control, easier on everyone else by being the bad guy. I very quiet hopeful voice tells me that I'm being silly and things will work out, that I'm only being pessimistic. I can't find a way to trust that, it just never seems to work out for the best.
All the worst comes to pass, weather you dread it or trust it will never happen. I thought I could trust people again.
Maybe I was right all long. Maybe I am better off alone.

A B. A. D. Bad Day

This has not been my week. My workplace has been on my back and everyone there has been tense and critical. I have been tired and keeping to my self. I took my dogs in to the vet for their annual check up and because I was a little concerned about my chow's eye after a fight with my border collie. My border collie had lost nine more pounds since last year when she was found to be underweight. So onto better food and a rich supplement she went and blood tests where sent out. Everything came back normal so I brought her in for another blood draw for more testing. My chow's eye was examined and an ointment given to me, I applied it as directed and brought her back for a recheck. Her eye looked worse so they did a pressure test and found it to be high. So I rushed her off to the vet school to have the eye looked at by their specialists and they were the ones to tell me that she is blind in her right eye and may need the eye removed in the future if the medications I was given today don't help reduce the swelling and make her comfortable. I found out that chows are prone to glaucoma, which I was not aware of because I had found it impossible to find books on them in any local stores. I'm heartbroken for my babies, I love them so much that it hurts to see them growing old and going through these things.
At the moment I just feel like curling up with a half gallon of ice cream and crying.

Undeserving

When I am thinking darkly I give myself a reason to feel bad. If I've had a bad day, or someone has been unkind to me, or I have not been especially understanding. I become overly sensitive and snappy, I am cruel to those who deserve it least. I make what ever wrongs the day has left me stinging from my fault so I can loathe myself rather than feeling crushed and helpless. If someone hurts me I hurt them back doubly so I become the cruel one. I make myself all the more undeserving of what I have.

Birth

Tomorrow (today) is my birthday. I'm not counting myself as twenty-one yet because I was born at seven in the morning.
Here's what I plan for my birthday. Get up around ten, take my dogs for a long walk, even if it is raining. I'm thinking of going into the graveyard up the road, incredible with my love of them that I haven't done so before. Come back home and take a long shower, dress up for the day and start on my cake. I will bake the cake and frost it, then go pick up Shadow from work. She will decorate the cake since she has more flair for such things. We'll go get RL and head out to Umstead Park, meeting my father and stepsister there. The lot of us will hang out and have cake. I will, I imagine, be given presents. After these festivies have finished we will go to the nice Japanese resturant near my house and I will devour my weight in sashimi and sushi. Merriment will be had, I may have a drink, if they have sake or something else appealing, I may chose not to. If I don't have to work until noon the next day then RL will stay over and keep me up all night. Even if she does I will take my leave of the group in the evening and talk to my love for a while before the day is done. I will bask in the love I have, and revel in the day.
M.

Belief

I have been asked a few times what I believe, and have never had the chance to answer. So here goes. If this makes little sense then so be it.
I believe in chance and intention. That our wishes and fears have more hold in our lives than most see, but chance takes the rest. Intention will bring you your dreams, but chance may strip them and more from you or give you more than you dreamed. My intention have brought me much, as has chance. I believe, as I have since I was young, that there is something in the elements. Life is the only word that seems close, magic is a more common one. I do believe in magic, in some much as it can be applied to what cannot yet be explained. I don't believe in magical beasts, as much as I have tried over time. Dragons, elves, werewolves and the like do not dwell amongst us. As much as I have wished it. I have a concept of personality to things I do not really believe to be sentient. Like rain, the moon, trees, wind, and fire. I don't exactly believe in souls in the usual religious sense, but I believe the energy of a person exists after they die, since energy can neither be created nor destroyed, only passed from form to form. Whether that energy exists strictly in the tissue of their bodies or in a more ghostly form depends on my mood on a given day. I have seen and heard ghosts before, so I have a hard time completely laughing them off. I don't believe in rebirth, I don't believe the world is particularly just or unjust. I don't believe in good and evil, there is cruelty and kindness in the world but nothing and no one is all good or all bad.
I should be sleeping now, so I will cut this off. If I think of more I wish to say I will post an addendum to the subject.
M.

Bliss.

When I came into my father's house as soon as my stepmother laid eyes on me she asked if I was in love. I answered simply, yes. As I took a seat she remarked on how happy I looked, and when my father left the table she whispered questions she didn't want him to hear across the table. After dinner she and my stepsister and I went back into my stepsis's room and she asked me about the visit. I fould myself smiling broadly and repeat the same giddy phrases over and over. She told me she hadn't seen me like that over my ex, asked me everything she felt she needed to know. Then my father traded places with her and asked me questions about him sternly. I answered him til he could think of no more. I tried my best to convey how happy I felt.
When I described him to Shadow after I had met him and spent some time with him face to face as perfect, I did ot use the word lightly. It holds a great deal of power. A generally impossible goal, there is no perfect circle, no exact match, everything is always a few microns off. Yet as an idea it exists, and in my completely subjective heart, I feel it absolutely applies to him.
When I was with him and he had to pull away from me, it did not break my heart. For all that it hurt not to be able to be nearer to him, I felt no rejection in that action. I could hear in his voice, feel in his touch, and see in his face that if he had any other choice he would be squeezing me closer not asking for room to breathe. And while I wanted desperately to be near him ever second I could, the obvious fact made it far from an insulting thing to have to draw back from me. Every person who has ever pulled away from me in anyway in the past has wounded my heart, but he only made it ache. He asked me to talk to him, tell my stories while he couldn't hold me to him.
And as soon as he was able to bear having me close again he made up for those moments of distance. Being with him was as perfect as he himself. I think one major factor of that for me was how badly I was longing for him by then. His every touch was bliss for me. When he was inside me… to find the words. He amazed me, my body answered his as a perfect counterpoint, I wanted to scream my ecstasy to the skies. Perfect.
I miss him so horribly.
M.

D.

When I spoke to him last night he delared himself, in his own way, to be someone for me to fuck til my Mr. Right comes along. It pains me that he thinks that way. It seems like he has decided that I don't love him, I only want him and care about him. I barely heard from him for almost two weeks after I returned home from visiting him, a few text messages were exchanged and emails, but we didn't talk online or on the phone. I would text to see if he was avilable for a call and he would not answer til I was sleeping or not able to call. When we finally spoke for a few hours on the phone he implied halfway through the conversation that he had not decided if we should be just friends or friends and lovers, at the end of the conversation he said he wanted me to visit again. I allowed him this, the freedom to choose what would pass between us, I decided to go and see him, love him in what time I had to do so, and give him the choice of what it would be to him and where it would go from there. I think that he loves me more than he likes to, and that he tells himself it's something platonic with a side of lust so it doesn't scare him. I think he is afraid of losing me and has let me go before he can do so. I don't know what to say to him about it, because I know I'm not the woman for him really. I would cause him pain if he loved me as I think he wishes he could.
I love him, but we are both the kind of silent protector that tries to help another grow while swallowing our feelings. He even moreso than I it seems. So far it's not working out well for the conbination for us two.
Also I suspect he has jealousy in him, and I simply don't want to be possessed by one person, currently at least.
M.

CENSORED

If I censor myself for fear of the feelings and thoughts of others than I will live a life of silence and isolation, no matter how many people I surround myself with. All my life I have been quiet, but even moreso since the death of my mother. The behavior of those around me made me withdraw. With some it was to protect them from seeing me in pain, with others it was because they made it plain they wanted to pretend everything was life as usual. For my father's sake I put froth the strongest face I could gather, with my friends I did my best to carry on as normal, with those who were not afraid to see me fall to pieces, I cried. One of my best friends said she only remembered me crying once or twice in all our childhood, for her my tears were a sign of something terribly wrong in the world. I received a thousand unrealized wounds and betrayals during that time, some of them sit undigested in my mind because I do not wish to contemplate them. In my relationship with my former best friend I became more quiet, she could not tell my thoughts so easily. She was one of those who wished to pretend I was the same person living the same life. So I pretended for her. After things fell apart with her and I was together with my ex I shared more with him than I had with others for a few years. As he demonstrated that my opinions had no merit unless they were in line with his, or became argumentative if I told him I thought he was wrong or pointed out somthing I disliked of his behavior, I began to withdraw from him as well. And now, where I stand in the world with the people I am surrounded by, I still say little of what my mind wills. When I speak to my father I have a certain guard, not because he has any intention to hurt me, but because we have incredible ability to hurt each other, I feel I have to be a smart adult to make him not worry about me. With my best friend I do not wish to interrupt her right to her own sharing of pain with my idle thoughts. With my stepmother I can share my thoughts and feelings pretty freely becase she will listen and provide good counsel, insofar as I don't mind things I say being repeated to my father. Many of the other people I speak to have no capacity for serious conversation, so long as I keep my statements inane I can remain part of the flow of talk, if I try to raise an important question or share a serious thought everyone moves on and ignores me.
All I want is to speak, if it doesn't come out quite right everytime so be it. If I can make my mind known perhaps I'll be lucky enough to have a few of the right people understand what I mean.
M.

Traitorous Vessel.

I really shouldn't think that way, it's such an incomplete way to view one's self. But anyways, here I am waking after having clutched my belly and whimpered til I dozed off once again. Sometimes it's quite irksome to be female. Humans are such odd creatures. What other being could survive as a species if it's females were subjected to immobilizing pain every twenty-eight days? Couldn't we get anything really cool out of being the higher intelligence on the planet? Ok, I take that back, it was an idiotic thing to say. I'm just grumpy. I'm made more grumpy by the fact that this time next month I'll be at the beach. I don't want to deal with this nonsense on my vacation. I'm reminded of something I heard from a friend that she was told by her doctor aunt and experienced to be true, swimming in ocean water stops periods. I wonder if that's true, and I wonder why it would be so.
My body is no kinder to me than I am to it most of the time.

I hate the idea of body and mind as seperate things, but the idea is so common and it has been present in my world for so long I find myself using it's terms in spite of myself.

Sometimes I do things just for the hell of it, and ocassionally it is not an enjoyable spontaneity. Case in point, I decided to shave my pubic hair. If you know me, which few who might read this are likely to, you know this is a very odd thing for me to do even with some specific intent, much less just for the hell of it. I shave my legs only when I am annoyed by the hair or plan on wearing a dress or shorts. I tried shaving my underarms once and immediately forswore doing it ever again. I pluck a few rogue hairs but generally I don't dislike them enough to be bothered by them. I have an intense dislike of people who find it unfeminine or nasty for a woman to have body hair. It's in our DNA just like guys, so get over it. If I was intended to have hairless legs, it wouldn't grow there. And I'm terribly sorry, but I'm not enduring nicks and razor burn for anyone's approval, so society will just have to agree to disagree with me. Any man who would not want me for such a reason is not worth the skin that holds him together, and any woman who dislike me for it is no friend of mine. With these fierce opinions you might be baffled that I would do this, but I also hold that there's little I wouldn't try at least once in the right situation. Boredom and a nice new razor proved the right situation, so I tried it. My skin tends to be hyper sensitive and thin all over my body, so it was rather enraged with me immediately. Only now, about three days later, has my skin calmed a bit. I discovered some scars I did not realize I had, chickenpox scars I believe, and a mole I had nearly forgotten. Quite amusing to rediscover marks and recognise them like lost friends...
I hate the way it looks, and the way it feels is nothing special either. I've come to the conclusion that I could not fuck a woman with a completely shaved pussy. It's simply too unnatural and creepy looking. It would make me feel intensely pedophilic.
My mind is a rather strange place, I must say.
Enough body related ramblings.
M.

Connection.

My wireless seems to have left me for good. So no internets for me. I'm currently logging on from a library computer, and will have my own internet installed Saturday afternoon, hopefully at least. So cross your fingers for me.
*Not dead or missing*
M.