#personal writting

Hi everyone! first off I want to say Happy holidays and a Happy New years. I just want to take the time and tell anyone who reads this that I have deleted everything from the past year for a good reason. I have been changing my mind about what I want to write about and over time I have changed it a thousand of times. So I am not going to post it until I am set on it for a good time. but I will be posting writting in the mean time and open to suggestions.

love,

You are now aware of everything I have been holding on to for so long. You know pretty much everything from even the smallest corner of my heart.

Yet nothing

I have not heard a single word from the moment you read it, only our usual jokes and laughs. As if nothing was ever said, as if nothing changed in you.

It’s bittersweet in a way.

Bitter because I have no closure, sweet because I still have my friend. The thing I was most worried about was losing you in your entirety, not just as my secret love but as my companion, my confidant, my friend.

In all honesty I don’t know what I expected. That you would call me immediately asking to meet up to confess the same feelings to me? That you would choose me and we lived “happily ever after” like those mushy movies? That you would have a go at me? That you would completely ignore me? I can tell you honestly I had no idea, and the uncertainty was what kept me so long from telling you.

I hope the reason is you need time to think, to clear all the thoughts racing through your head, to just figure yourself out and how you feel. I am still realistic in the sense of expecting the rejection as nothing ever seems to go my way with love, but yet I still hold on to the slither of hope I have left that you might change your mind, that you might become mine.

Regardless I am glad we are still the same, I just hope you don’t think less of me after all of this. That you distance yourself to protect me, that would only do the opposite.

I am finally at peace...somewhat.

PS: I hope the letter gave you some form of happiness and further cemented the fact that you are loved.

I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to push you away from me or make you feel like you can’t talk to me, I never meant to question our friendship or make you feel like your a bad friend.

I hate my own mind for making me feel the way I did and for doing this, for causing such a rift between us you felt the need to disconnect yourself from me, to build that wall up again, maybe even higher than last time.

That you felt the need to put your trust in another woman, one who doesn’t care about you as much as I do, but you don’t know that of course, if only you did.

I don’t want us to be like this, I miss how it use to be, I miss how we were, I miss you, the you I could count on for anything, the one that could make me smile whenever, the you before all the crap.

Fuck sake why did I have to do this?

Is it too late for you to forgive me? Is it too late for things to go back to the way they use to?

Like war drums in your ear, a beckoning, waxing cresting bursting around you.

 Air whining past, comparable to falling you suppose but without the momentum, A blooming radiance hits your opal sheened eyes, the florescent light feels dead on your rough scales; disgusting.

 “Ar you ang anglel?”Slurred speech comes from the opposite corner quiet, weak and breathless. There’s a young girl there “Summoner? You sweetly question, you pick up no response from her ashen face; stalking forward intent on striking out… you pause, “not young... little?” you notice a colorless liquid dripping down the side of her face, confusion sapping your inferno, you touch the crown of her head with clawed fingers letting a rush of searing heat flow from your chest down in to her; a popping noise, an influx of energy and a short scream follow. You ask again “Summoner?” she can hear now apparently, the spinal fluid having been cleared from her ear canal, oh and what a look she gives The little girl couldn’t have been more than five years old, staring wide eyed at the demon in front of her childish delight ad awe. Staggering to here feet exclaiming! 

“You’re an angel!”

Indigent scorn informs your cold voice “speak not the nam-..”

The brat cuts you off. “Momma said to pray every night and the angels will help. even after she left i did as momma said and look! Here you are!”

You stare past her at the door, yellow sweat beading down ridged forehead hissing slightly in contact with the air. The little girl couldn’t have been the Summoner.

You can see the sin festering in someone’s skin through the wall.

It hit you.

 The girl was an offering.

There are many things demon traded in, and none of them good. A child was not one of those things. There was such a thing as a demon with standards, besides purity is a horrid aftertaste.

“I’m not an angel,” you admitted with chagrin, “I’m someone better.”

She tilted her head. “How?”

Watto wants to keep the boy - he will be useful around the shop one day - but the girl is worth money now.  He sells her along with a new engine to a trader who’s ship broke down at the port.  The trader’s wife wanted a baby now and he wanted the help later.  He pays gold.

    (Shmi tries to kill Watto.   Screaming and clawing at him.  If it wasn’t for the other child clutched to her chest she would have killed him then let them kill her.  She still wonders if she made the right choice.)

    They take the girl away.  Shmi never speaks of her again.  (Although when Anakin sees Padme he thinks she must be an angel because sometimes - very late at night - Shmi will tell him about them.  How they have brown hair and the most beautiful eyes.  Eyes that you can see the whole world reflected in.  His mother always has a sad look on her face when she tells him about angels.  Then the strangers come and take him away and he thinks he understands.)

The girl grows up with too much fire in her to be a slave.  Even one who is almost (always only almost) a daughter.  Her anger laces her words and her words become more.  Slaves don’t carry lightsabers (Slaves don’t carry any kind of weapon but she makes daggers out of scrap metal and hides them in her sash, in her braids.  When she is caught she is beaten.) but no one can strip her of her words or her anger.

When the slave revolt begins she in the the middle of it.  When she is captured they sew her mouth shut.  She tears out the stitches and smiles through the blood.  They call her General and the word in their language that means monster.  She smiles a bloody smile at that.

They win.

When a jedi comes to her planet talking about destiny, and dreams, and saving her, she laughs.  It’s not a pretty laugh.  She steals his sword and a daughter from him then takes his head for a trophy.

Her daughter is a different kind of woman.  She wants more from life than to follow in her mother’s footsteps as the warlord of a backcountry city on a backcountry planet.  She runs away to find a destiny.  She travels.  She pretends her words are just words, that she doesn't just know things, that anyone can run in the dark and never once trip over a stone.  She is afraid to believe anything else.

She has adventures.  She sees the the good in people and when she does fight it’s because she’s trying to make things right that are wrong. Somehow she keeps a ray of sunshine in her heart and lets it guide her.  Eventually she meets a man (he’s one of the ones who probably doesn't have as much good left in him as she wants to see.)

Destiny is a tricky thing.  It has a way of twisting itself around you and taking far more than you bargained for.  When she holds her daughter, her ray of sunshine, for the first time she knows.  Her mother’s words that are more than words and her bloody smile, the electricity in her own veins that sometimes feels so great she fears it will burn her alive.  She knows.

It’s a hard planet where she leaves her daughter (with a couple who she believes to be kind) but no harder than the one she was born on.  She kisses Ray on the forehead and tells her to follow the light.  

the day has come- there is officially less than twenty-four hours left in 2016.

as per usual i find myself facetime-ing camille, watching her pack as she ventures off to begin the new year, apart from me, in the state of ilonois [pronounced: ill-on-noix-ze]. i do admit that l am deeply sadden that she will be miles apart from me on a day which we have both been eagerly waiting for, 365 days. but i’m a good friend- i will wish the best for her from the six and will await her return in hopes that she will bring me ‘trump air’ in a bottle.

other than that, we’ve been reminiscing on the past events of the year and i have come to realize that this may have been the toughest year, for me. let alone the many traumatizing-historical events that took place this year:  the trump presidency, the death of Prince & Alan Rickman etc. there were so many moments during the course of this year where i literally blamed all misfortunes on 2016 being cursed. but that isn’t the case, there is so much goodness that has come from the year  and although the struggles could have overpowered all of that, i am more than grateful to have experienced everything that i have because it only made me anticipate the birth of the new year all the more. so yes, as quoted by the wise kylie, it truly was the ‘year of just realizing stuff & everyone around me just realizing things’.

stress~such a large factor of the past three hundred-something days. & despite it all, I was able to accomplish so much, so for that i am proud of myself. moving forward with the nearly approaching year i hope that i will be able to overcome many of the struggles that i am facing in order to move ahead in life and onto the right/write track. i feel nothing but positive energy with this one, and if there is anything i want to leave behind with the sixteen it would be: mindfulness of others comments and/or opinions in regards to me, added effort with acquaintances and materialistic finances.

Im going into the year with so much love, camille with a new mindset, anosiya with new drive, nev with a new budget, aaron with new opportunities, & pants brings himself- he is nothing but perfect [his-words-not-mine].

here i am, well and alive- writting another recap for another year.

We Made It.

Cheers to two-thousand-seventeen - may it be filled with wealth and prosperity.