what if I do

So I’m about to sign papers and officially be able to celebrate accomplishing a long term goal. It’s been nearly 10 years in the making if I remember correctly, or even if I don’t remember correctly, it’s close enough for me. I bet you’re proud of me. I bet you’d come out to Ten I See to move me in and look at all of the things S has already checked out. You’d be impressed by him. I could see happiness in your eyes. We stay out late burning boxes and shit from moving. Always the last by the fire, eyes to the stars. We’re you searching for something, somewhere? Did you find or even know constellation’s? Did you wonder what space would be like? Or did you just stare off into the distance not seeing the sky and watching your life pass by. Did you know? Did you suspect?

But that doesn’t matter now, because you’re dead. And I’m here and I’m fighting myself, lost in my own mind all day. Would he tell me he’s proud of me? Working hard and putting myself in a position to succeed, successful in my own, and now a steady slow growth into a beautiful life meant for me. A life I want to live.

This is the foundation of the rest of my life and I’m really happy with where I am. Who I am. Who I love.

It’s a beautiful life.

I fell away from myself. Writing journaling scribing whatever. I held in all expression trying to be an image of someone or something I didn’t have to. I was being me but in a fake way? Or maybe it’s just a phase mom. Like life, we continually cycle through seasons of change. Sometimes we hate ourselves and that’s okay. I got some help. I let others help me. It was rough at first coming out of the tunnel space. I felt like it was an out of body experience. The last year had flashed before my eyes and I couldn’t believe how much life went by while I what, disassociated. It was a dark foggy maybe blurry tunnel when I flowed through the motions. I say things I have no idea why I’m saying it. I can be so “normal” or just less anxious in my head but then anxiety comes out of me I’m weird fucking ways and I can’t stand myself. But I know I’m changing gears in life and death. I’m about to know life in a way I crave, deserve even. And I know death so much more intimately. My dad died of cancer at 47 years old,3 days after thanksgiving this year. I’ve always fucking hated thanksgiving. It has been one hell of a roller coaster. We have been just enjoying life together, get engaged, we invite family to move in and as we all know that hardly goes well, dad dies, another exciting life event soon.

Why am I always loosing myself. In people, in ideas, in anything but myself. I’ve been in a place before where I was lost in myself and navigating that was beautiful. I loved me. I was sure of me. I knew me.

Where I fuck up is when I let other people get lost in me. I am a magnificent and complex creature. It’s always fun and easy to fall in love with me. The problem is, I learn them. What they want, what they like, things i see that they may not. And I give. I give all of me and and give more than I have and I become nothing. I become a shell of who I once was. Now I’m a chameleon. I’m who they want me to be. I don’t know myself anymore because there’s nothing left to know. I am here only to serve them and make their life better while I become nothing more than a mother, a maid, an automated bill paying system.

Then I become extremely needy. Needy because my own needs are not being met, by me or them, me because I have nothing left to give myself, by them because I’ve become a convenient tool to their life. And now I’m insecure. Because I’m extremely needy.

When will I stop making excuses for others to not treat me how I deserve to be treated? When will I stop giving all of me to people who don’t actively support me and what I need?

How many times have I imagined those words falling from your lips? How many times have I imagined you telling me I’m a good girl and your intoxicating little ‘hmmm’, smile spread across your lips watching my back arch, my knees trying to come together unsuccessfully, your face between my thighs..

Did I hear you correctly?

Say it again.

Smile dancing across your handsome face, “you can cum now”

And just like that, your body on mine, filling me with love…

but as a bold statement.

Hear me, by the way I touch you.

The way my hands speak to your body and my

passion ignites you.

And my body listens and responds,

As if it were created to be tamed by you.

Do we need words for this?

What a thing it is to feel this way about another human.

Enjoying who they are, exploring their interests, learning, teaching, growing. Being so attracted and SO proudly in love.

I say I don’t give a fuck a lot. But the truth is I do. I give a lot of fucks a lot of the time over a lot of things.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, when I go out and I haven’t shaved in a month, and it’s 106 and I’m wearing shorts. Seeing the hair on my legs gives me pause before I get out of my car in the parking lot. That little fuck shows up like “maybe you should have worn pants..“ but I shut the fuck up looking at the temperature gauge in my car and see that body hair as the part of me that it is. It is not disgusting like “they” have told me. It is not to be ashamed of. If it wasn’t meant to be there, it wouldn’t be.

•Venus Return•

I put on the dress. Intoxicated. I danced.

About to go spend a few days in the desert..

I found it. A place I didn’t think I’d find. A place where I can finally settle. Where I can come for safety. I’m not in control, and the more I give up that control, the more I receive in return.

Last night I was alone. I found myself going down the rabbit hole. Mind betraying me, telling me awful lies. Panic would be setting in soon. But why? The thing about growth is that it is uncomfortable and sometimes can be mistaken for panic. I have grown so much, accomplished so much. I thought about how far I’ve come from a place where I thought I’d never get through. And not just once, but over and over again. So I got out of my own way. I slipped on the most comfortable night dress I own, put on a primal playlist, and danced around my room. I danced for myself, slow sway, eyes closed, focused breath. As the playlist picked up, my body rolled with the new beat. I kept my eyes closed, if I opened them I knew this feeling, this letting go, would leave me as quickly as it came. After four songs I was out of breath, pink cheeked, and wanting. Back into my slow sway my hands travelled the length of my body like an explorer tracing river lines of a map, through a mountain range, into a valley..

How disappointing.

Men, who speak as if they know what they’re doing, then prove that they don’t. Men, to which I say “try me, if you think you can get me there. Be warned though, I’m not an easy one to get off.” Men, who think they are so mighty with a stick they seldom know how to use correctly. Men, who’s tongues are as useless to me as they are to bullshit they spew, the things that never should have left their heads. God knows the hands of men who have touched this body were undeserving. God knows the next pair of hands that do have the audacity to come my way....