Apr 22, 2019
More screams into the void.
The man next to me is wonderful, and I DO love him...
But...
He'll never be you
Loading...
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from India
seen from Australia
seen from Poland
seen from Germany
seen from Poland
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Belgium
seen from T1
seen from New Zealand
seen from China
seen from Poland
seen from Latvia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
More screams into the void.
The man next to me is wonderful, and I DO love him...
But...
He'll never be you
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"It wasn't so much that; I chased a career in private investigations, it actually pursued me. I was haunted by unsolved cases that have captured the human psyche over the years. And personal tragedies that resulted in no closures, and just more questions than answers. At least now, as a Private Investigator, I can seek and find the answers, too many questions for my clients, attorneys, communities and the country at large. The pursuit of liberty, justice, truth, and providing closure and peace for everyone; is the true burning passion, as I embark upon this new journey and chapter in my life." ~Hope Elle Ignacia~ #privateinvestigator #realestateagent #truestory #truedetective #trueconfessions #pretty #entrepreneur #divacreed #boss #bosswoman #bossbabe #bosslady #bosslife #bosslifestyle #momlife #mompreneur #mogul #love #trend #lifestyle #careerwoman
This Day in Metal: Sept 18th 1978 #GeneSimmons released solo album "Gene Simmons" #Radioactive #SeeYouInYourDreams #TrueConfessions #TunnelOfLove #ClassicRock
When I stand here very quietly, I can hear the tools speak to me. "You know you want us," they say. "You know you NEED us." The dual bevel sliding miter saw tempts me by graphically describing how I'd feel every time I use it. The table saw tempts me with promises of romantic moonlit nights of joyfully ripping reclaimed boards. And and I'm much too embarrassed to tell you what the oscillating spindle sander tells me. I must leave this place now before my dwindling willpower completely crumbles. #TrueConfessions #PowerTools #woodworking #ReclaimedWoodGoods
Confession Booth is Open
Prompt: What’s the one thing you’ve never said out loud because it might change how someone sees you?
Response (mine): I’ve learned that secrets don’t shrink in silence—they grow teeth. Confess it where it’s safe; it stops biting. Confession heals the heart; I’ll hold the line while you let it all out.
Your turn: (Anon is on) Drop your confession. If you need a real voice on the other end, you may confess properly at phonequeen.live ☎️
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
#trueconfessions when you get lunch delivered during a non stop meeting day and you did not have breakfast, so you snarf down the sandwich instead of breathing... then pause to dive into the fruits and veggies.... (at Kokomo, Indiana) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVBGy_Sl9U8/?utm_medium=tumblr
My Father's Demons
The entire car ride my mama didn't say a word. She only made the occasional "Shhhh!" to my crying baby sister. It was going to be a bad night. I could feel it in every ounce of me. Looking back at my younger self, I have no doubt that it was the gift of discernment working in my life even then. The closer we got to the airport the more nauseous I became. The darkness seemed thicker, heavier than usual. When we arrived and I saw my father standing at the curb waiting for us my stomach felt as though it was attempting to hide behind my backbone. He turned to face us and my fears were realized when I recognized that look of rage he had in his eyes. That same look that I had seen twice before, once when I found him choking my naked mama with a belt while she was bound to a chair and again when he beat a man simply because he "thought" the man was looking at my mother. I had prayed so hard that I would never see it again, yet here it was. That look that didn't care about anyone. That look that wanted to hurt, wanted to destroy, wanted to kill! At the sight of him I watched my mama change from the strong, funny, confident and beautiful woman she had been all the time he was gone into a scared, weak and pitiful person that was terrified of what was sure to come now that this man had returned to invade our happy, peaceful, little world. As we pulled up beside him and stopped the car, my mama got out and hurried around to climb into the passenger's side and shut the door. Always one to make sure he kept up appearances in public, my father put a smile on his face as he greeted us all with a syrupy "There's my girls!" and walked to the back of the car, opened the trunk and ever-so-gently placed his luggage inside and closed the lid. He climbed into the driver's seat and we started our long drive home. As we were leaving the airport, I tried to focus on the huge airplanes that were taking off. The ones landing never grabbed my attention because all I wanted to do was escape. I wanted to go anywhere that he wasn't so I tried to imagine where each one was destined. What did the inside of the plane look like? What were the people like who were on each flight? Were they going away forever or just for a visit? I was brought back to reality by the sound of my father's fist punching my mother in the face and my sister screaming from the fright she must be feeling, even as a baby, witnessing this. He had to assert his dominance and abuse was his weapon of choice. My mother cowered in the seat, crying, cradling her face in her hands as she pressed herself as firmly against the door as she could in a fruitless effort to escape his reach as he unleashed a barrage of open-handed hits on her tiny body anywhere he could...head, arms, legs, it didn't matter he just wanted to hurt her. My father started yelling at my mama that it was her own fault. She shouldn't be prying into his business. She shouldn't be asking questions that she doesn't want to know the answer to. Her job was to be a mother to his daughters and a loving, doting wife to him. It was not her business to call his friends and business acquaintances asking where he was and what he was doing. Gathering the tidbits of what I could from his one-sided conversation, it seemed that when my father had left town, he gave my mother what he thought was plenty of money to live on while he was gone. She was meant to move, pay the bills, feed us and clothe us on whatever measly amount he gave her. Of course, it didn't last nearly as long as his "business" trip did and we had been relying on my mama's meager wages and my grandparents, Granny and Papa, to help us even have food to eat. Granny and Papa were amazing! They were my favorite people in the entire world, but they were definitely people of humble means. I can remember my Granny sewing clothes out of old flour sacks and Papa always wearing overalls because they were good enough for working in the yard, working on the car, going fishing or going to church. Just change the undershirt that you wore with it and you were good to go. Granny and
Papa just didn't have anything left to help with after a while so, tired of living on flour gravy and hoe bread, my mama had started calling around to try and find my daddy in hopes that he would send money so that she could feed us all and keep a roof over our heads. After weeks of searching and dozens of unreturned calls, she was finally given an international number for a residence in Costa Rica. When she called a woman answered. My mama asked for "Skip". The woman responded with the expected "Who's calling?", to which my mama replied "This is his wife, Judy." The woman on the other end said, " Excuse me, but that is not possible. This is his wife, Abbie.". My mama hung up the phone in shock! His wife?!..
My Father's Demons
I guess I have known pretty much my entire life that I have what they call an "Old Soul". I never really thought about it much until now, but looking back, I can see how I was always older than my years. I was drawn into adult conversations. I enjoyed being with adults more so than kids my own age, save a very few. I knew how to blend into the surroundings so the grown-ups wouldn't notice while they were interacting. I guess being more mature than my age is why I remember these events so vividly, and for as long as I live I will remember that car ride home. I won't remember it for the airplanes taking off so close to me that I could feel the rumble of their engines or the fact that I could almost reach out and touch them. I won't remember it for the blue sky with it's cotton clouds that were made up of familiar shapes if I squinted my eyes just right. I won't remember it for the sounds of the radio blaring those southern gospel quartets singing songs that made my skin turn into shriveled up goose bumps. No, I will forever remember this day for the beginning of a bond being built with my mama that would last a lifetime. This was the day that she entrusted me with the the knowledge of what she, now we, were fighting and she began to teach me how to fight it. I'm not exactly sure how long my Father was gone, but to me it seemed like a lifetime, and I LOVED IT! So many good things happened while he was gone and I began to believe we were starting a new life without him. We moved from that little white house where I first learned that the "Daddy" I knew, didn't exist. We moved into a small, one bedroom apartment where we had neighbors above us and beside us. It wasn't anything fancy. Heck, it wasn't even in the greatest of neighborhoods. That didn't bother me at all. It had everything I needed, a place to ride my bicycle, kids next door to play with, a pool and, best of all, NO DADDY! My mama would work everyday and my cousins would stay with my sister and I while she worked. We had so much fun! This is where I learned to ride my bicycle, where I learned to swim and even jump off of the diving board into the deep end of the pool. We played in the mudholes and made gourmet mud pie meals. We drank from the water hose and weaved bracelets, necklaces and crowns out of grass and weeds. We played Hide - And - Go - Seek and Red Rover, Red Rover well after dusk. I was loving my life as a carefree little girl, but what I loved most were the evenings at bedtime. Every night my mama would put my sister and I in bed with her and she would read us stories from the bible and teach us about Jesus. She never failed to make sure that we knew how to put on the "Whole Armor Of God" and that we knew how to pray. This became our routine. Day in and day out, until the day the phone rang and when my mother answered I watched as she turned white as a ghost. She hung up the phone and told me to help get my sister in the car. We were going to the airport to pick my father up. WHAT?! This could not be happening! Surely, he wasn't coming back now! He had been gone for so long. I was now six or seven, my sister was two or three. She wouldn't even know him and I didn't want to know him. Life had been perfect without him. What would this mean for us?...