-Bad Company, I Can't Deny-

AC/DC's "Walk All Over You" pours through the speakers as darkness swirls all around me, the window covered by two different throw blankets; both of large cats. I have a faint smile ghosting my lips as the small fan across the room, directly behind me on the right, circulates the cool air pooling in from the window.

After having a strange night, the news I received this morning was a blessing. I start my training as a Pet Groomer, Monday July 21st at 10am. I'm honestly relieved and excited at the same time. I love animals, enjoy going to that particular store and so it's only natural that I would be pleasantly surprised to learn that I'll be working there.

-smiles and takes a drink of her strong coffee-

Now, as I mentioned, I had a few moments of strangeness last night. You see, for the past few weeks I've been finding it very difficult to sleep through the night. In fact, I've been waking up every night around 3am. Probably due to stress.

Last night was slightly different. The dreams I experienced before I drifted back to consciousness stuck with me and made me feel off.

I was in a strange house, built on a slight incline, surrounded in trees that towered into the heavens. It was night time, and felt as though I was in Oregon already. But it wasn't too cold or too warm, it felt like fall. The air was cool and crisp and smelt of the forest. I was inside, going through the front room, opening the windows so the fresh air could pour in. But there was one room on the left hand side of the house I didn't want to go into. Ignoring the nagging in the back of my head, I traveled to the laundry room located straight back opposite of the living room, through the kitchen and toward the right. I was going through the motions of throwing in a load of laundry when the thought hit me again... The room. The reason I stayed away from it, was because I knew my Dad was in there. I had a vivid image in my head of him wrapped up in his dark blue sheets asleep. But I knew he wasn't asleep. 

I went out onto the front porch and someone was with me. Not sure who, but I remember telling them that I couldn't go in there... I didn't want to see him like that. Because he'd passed away and had been left in there for a few days. I knew that I was going to need professionals to come and collect him.

The dream shifted and I was still in Oregon, it was still night time, but I wasn't in that house anymore. I was actually in a small mom'n'pop type store with two other friends; one male, one female.

I remember telling them we had a few tests to go through (no idea how I knew that, but it was a thought from a deep male voice... Weird I know) and the young woman was the first one to go through them. I remember she was 5'8-5'9, lanky but strong, broad shoulders in a dark blue/grey tank top and black pj pants. She had dark brown, straight hair just below her shoulders and a feminine face with a slightly husky voice.

She jumped when dozens of jumping spiders started to appear from the darkened corners of the store. I told her to not be afraid, they weren't going to hurt her. I remember how calm I was, as if I'd gone through this myself. The Spiders were actually quite beautiful. All ranged in size; from as big as a dime to the size of my palm. They were jet black, smooth with no hair but their eyes... The most beautiful shade of dark metallic blue that shimmered an electric sea blue green in the light. They didn't move like spiders, more like a squirrel. Less arachnid, more mammal. They didn't wall climb, they simply crawled up onto shelves to get a better viewpoint of us. At one point, I was walking between two shelves and I felt them jump down onto my back. I wasn't scared, I knew they weren't going to hurt me. The odd part was feeling an itch sweep the length of my back. "Crap, they bit me!" I exclaimed when the young woman, somewhere off to the side corrected me. 

"No, they're not biting you. It's him, he's..."

And I woke up.

Groggy and feeling out of sorts, I gathered myself from my bed and checked the time. 2:44am. With a low grumble I left my room and headed to the bathroom. My brain was still trying to suss out the dreams I had just had when I finished up, left the bathroom and walked through the kitchen instead of the hallway closest to the front of the house. I think I was contemplating getting some water but realized I'd have to get my cup from my bedroom and decided to just go outside and clear my head. As I left the kitchen and started passing the stairs leading to the 2nd level, I heard the distinct sound of footsteps behind me. Separate footsteps. I was halfway between the staircase and the front door when I literally just stopped. I focused on any betrayal of sound and found nothing. Brow furrowed, I turned and made a slow sweep of the perimeter, wondering if perhaps one of the munchkins had gotten up. I even looked up into the top level and noticed the doors to my Niece and Nephew's room were closed. I was the only one up and walking around.

The crease deepened between my brows while I tried to recreate the sound I had heard with my feet against the wooden floor. An odd shiver traveled the length of my spine when I realized that it hadn't been me who had made that sound. Shaking my head, I proceeded out onto the front porch, sat down and had a cigarette. As I did, I even typed this all down so I wouldn't forget into the notes feature on my phone. When I finished, I went back inside, into my room and was in bed by 2:58am.

Like I said, weird.

I'm not all that worried about what I experienced last night. Could've just been some weird echo of my quiet footfalls against the wooden floor. But for it to sound the way it did, I would have had to have been in the Kitchen when I heard it in the Other Room.

-shrugs and takes a drink of her coffee-

Not going to think about it. 

In other news of doom, I've been writing everyday. Just a simple story based on the 'what if' thinking of me literally running into the winchesters due to a sea fog that rolled into the desert, which is actually an interdimensional thing and it drops me into their existence. And that anything that goes through that rift will be affected by the energy there. Blah blah blah, you get the idea. I actually like where it's going and it's just nice to be able to write again. Takes my mind off of thoughts that only cause my heart to ache.

And on that note, I'm going to finish this here blog of doom, drink my coffee and continue to wake up. It's a bit harder today because it's finally cool outside with a bit of humidity. Reminds me of my home by the sea...

Anyway... Later days.

-Adieu

Written in the walls

(Written earlier in the day on my phone, then transferred onto my blog a few hours later)

Been doin' alright... Takin' it day to day, going from heart broken to empty to an eerie calm... Today has definitely been an odd one. 

I felt great when I woke up, except when I remembered the dream of me sobbing over my little girl who I never knew I had and apologizing to her for not being there when she needed me. This girl who was 15 years old with strawberry red/brown hair and light hazel eyes (a lighter honey color with more green). Thing is, I know this was my daughter... This isn't the first time I've dreamt of her. The first time I was 17 and she was two years old. She looked exactly like me except her skin was slightly paler, and her hair was that lighter strawberry brown with those striking light honey hazel green eyes. Her hair was thick and wavy/curly to the middle of her back and she had bangs/fringe cut perfectly above her brows. Wait... I just realized something. I just did the math... If I had a 15 year old, she would have been two when I was 17... Ya, that just topped my weird-shit-o-meter.

Anyway...

Today I finally got around to washing my baby, who I haven't given a bath since before October of last year. She looks gorgeous but it's obvious Eleanore needs a new paint job. I was suddenly disappointed with myself that I hadn't been taking care of her like I should have. I could see that she's in desperate need of a good polish and I should've been on top of that. 

As I was beating myself up for not taking care of my baby, all I could think of was my Dad... I could almost hear his voice calmly telling me that yes she needs a new paint job but for right now, all she needs is a good polish and wax to bring the shine back. 

So I tried to push it out of my head and decided to relax, lay back on my bed and watch Jaws The Revenge. 

I'm mostly paying attention when the boys curl up to my left, near my feet and pass out on my Supernatural bag. Their peace was contagious and I found myself unable to keep my eyes open...but as I began to sink into that inky black, I was suddenly struck with that dream of my daughter and it was like a knife embedding itself in my heart. I jolted awake, sat up and glanced over to my left. There, among the pile of disheveled stuffed animals was my small gray horse I had won in one of those machines you find at a diner. I don't know what possessed me to pick it up and cradle it against my chest (possibly a subconscious need for physical reassurance) but as soon as I held it protectively in my arms, my mouth pressed gently against its soft mane...I was overcome with grief and started quietly sobbing... It was like a levee shattered and I was suddenly flooded with sorrow. I clutched that tiny horse for dear life and found myself quietly calling out for my father... Begging him to come home.

-wipes the wayward tears that escaped her eyes-

I can't sense him. 

The random thoughts I have of him are nothing more than modified memories. His presence is not here... Even after I put his ashes in the passenger seat and drove him home almost a week ago. Such a small box...yet somehow so very heavy... I had the fleeting thought of putting the lap belt on it because it was Dad; he was always adamant about wearing a seatbelt...

The box now sits at the end of my bed. It's a box within a box and I haven't had the heart to open it. 

I know how all over the place this must seem, my thoughts are as lost and chaotic as my emotions; scattered marbles rolling off into oblivion.

It's been a struggle to get myself to update anything on facedesk. I've been posting random, impersonal stuff so that I hadn't completely isolated myself. I wanted to write, wanted to alleviate some of this pressure building up inside my head. But I was held back... Suffering from panic attacks so severe I would start stuttering if I tried to speak. I've never experienced panic like this before, my anxiety having become a very real monster that attacks me any time it damn well pleases.

I've come to realize I'm struggling with myself to keep functioning. I'm trying to deal with losing my father. It's so incredibly hard... Because we were so very close. Not just because he was my best friend and my father, we had this very strong connection that used to trip my dad out all the time. I would say what he was thinking or vice versa. We didn't even have to be in the same room or even the same city. We used to laugh about it all the time... It's the same link twins have... Which is why this has been so devastating for me. 

I feel severed.

I thought I was getting through it just fine. I hate that in cleaning my Ellie, I triggered the waterworks and even now as I type this calmly in my phone, tears are streaming from my eyes, sliding silently down my face and pooling along the crease created by my lips being held shut.

It's hard to reach out and talk about how I'm feeling when I can't get my thoughts straight. It's hard to focus and be my old positive self when I feel fragmented. 

I hate what this tragedy has made of me. 

I don't want to be needy... I don't want to admit that it's become apparent I need physical reassurance. To feel safe again, held protectively in strong arms.

This is not something I'd openly admit. One, I refuse to appear weak. You can all tell me that needing to be touched isn't a sign of weakness... That needing to be held is perfectly natural. Here's the deal; I've been this way since I was 3 years old. I have an incredibly difficult time allowing anyone to see me cry or get upset. I'm even more guarded from appearing needy...especially when it's the need to be held by a male. That's when I'm at my most vulnerable and it's one of the very rare instances I allow someone else to be on guard.

It also makes it harder for me because I have severe trust issues with men. I've been burned too many times. Especially when I was at my lowest; when I really needed someone and finally found the courage to reach out... Only to find that I was reaching toward nothing more than dead space.

Intoxicated by honey coated lies and empty promises. Learning the hard truth that a genuine face generally comes attached to cowards.

I was Nothing more than a convenience to be left behind when I was no longer useful or entertaining. 

Sounds harsh, but incredibly accurate.

So you can imagine that even talking about this stirs up a hornet's nest of resentment. Especially since I'm basically admitting that I unknowingly let myself be used for someone's amusement.

Man have I gone off on a tangent in the hopes, that somehow, there'd be a better understanding of how my brain works. I'm sure that given the circumstances, anyone's thoughts would be fireflies in the wind. I just hate feeling like every facet of my being has been shredded and I'm left to weave myself back together.

-sighs and takes a drink from a freshly brewed cup of strong coffee-

Even the little things; waking up, making coffee, filling my nightmare before Christmas thermos with said coffee and heading outside to have my morning cigarette... All goes back to the memories of Dad. That was our routine. Where we'd sit and wake up and just talk about our dreams or what The View (who we called The Broads) was about that day. Randomly catching an episode of Maury and discussing the lack of intelligence in almost all of the guests on that show.

How every April 21st we would sit down and watch John Carpenter's 'The Fog' together...

How every night, we would say Locu Noć (Lock-oh-no-tch) which in Croatian means 'Good night'. That was something my mom taught him when I was a baby.

It was the very last thing he said to me the day before he died... 

-pauses to swallow the hard lump of emotion with a hefty drink of her coffee-

This is the most I've shared in awhile. It's not all 'lollipops and candy canes' but it's honest and it's only a glimpse of the roaring waves crashing through my mind.

With everything going on around me and trying desperately not to drown, I've made up my mind as to where I'll be headed before the end of the year.

I'm set on moving to Oregon. It's something I've wanted since I was 18 years old. At one point, even my Dad wanted to move there...and have a small house with two black labs.

I want to honor that. So I'm going to find a way back to a place that has always felt like home. Currently I have my little sister (we adopted each other as family) Ashley and her pup Dacey set on moving to Salem with me. She's been wanting to move there too, so it works out.

It's all I've been thinking about. The lease here in Beaumont will be up in November, so hopefully before then, Ashley, her Dacey, Pez, Gir and Myself will already be in Salem in our new place. And I can't wait to be able to have a garage for Ellie. It's what Dad always wanted for her and my beautiful girl deserves it.

I just want to feel at peace again. I want to have my own space where the boys can scamper around (and they'll be fine with Dacey, she's a lithe little dachshund (weenie dog) who loves cats) and I can finally have Betta fish in their own separate aquariums, all named after my favorite fictional characters. 

Even though I'll be sharing space with Ashley, we actually mesh well. Both natural gypsies finally finding a place to call home.

That's all I've ever wanted. I didn't want to leave my home by the sea. Knowing that the only Real home I've ever known was going to be gone... Broke something precious inside. My home is Gone. I have nothing left to go back to... Visiting is one thing, the great blue mother will always be there... But everything that was stable, the lighthouse of my childhood... Is now nothing more than a memory like the ashes of my father held within that box at the end of my bed. The warmth is gone and there is nothing left for me here.

Yes, many of my family (those friends who I am beyond grateful for) are here and are the only reason I would come back to visit. But I can't stay. I've planned to leave California for over 12 years but there was always someone keeping me here. Now that someone is gone. That part of my life that I hold so dear, is over.

I'm no longer trapped at a crossroads. The path before me glows with life and is beckoning me north. Where the trees stand like living sentinels, rising from the earth toward a new beginning. Calling out to me, their branches outstretched, begging me to come home.

I need to start over. I need to find myself and I can't do it if I'm suffocating in the past. It's no longer frightening but exciting to think about. No fits of panic, no anxiety to sweep through me and make me stone. It's not a hopeful notion that I'll be in Oregon. It's an instinctive knowing that I belong there. 

Stranger still is that a few years ago, perhaps two now, I wrote about this happening. It's not verbatim, but eerily similar. 

I also want to make clear that this isn't me running away. For the very first time, I'm excited about the future.

And on that note, I've written far more than I thought I would. -chuckles softly- and as much as I enjoy sitting outside, the flies are starting to get on my nerves and my phone is down to 53%. 

-Adieu

Shapeshifter, Supernatural and Severe Vent on Stupidity

As I sit and drink my morning cup of joe, Tool's haunting melodies streaming through my speakers as 'Stinkfist' trickles through the air and transitions over to Soundgarden's 'Spoonman', I find myself feeling a bit lighter...a bit more like the young woman I started out to be so many years ago now it seems.

I needed a change...desperate to find some kind of footing along the cracked walls of an abyss I was not ready to be swallowed by. I clawed and growled, somehow managing to find just enough strength to begin pulling myself back from a place that wanted to devour me. A living darkness I've known all my life, a secret demon that has taken a piece of me at a time... I think it's had enough.

-Smiles as Godsmack's 'Forgive Me' starts thundering through the speakers-

Torn between despair and absolute hatred, I had to find that small fragment of light left inside of me before I gave in to that blackness.

I took a pair of scissors, found a comb and just started cutting. I created bangs/fringe and began layering the rest of my unruly hair. I didn't take off much, but the hair in the trash looks as though it might start chittering and scampering around the room for food -chuckles-

Afterwards I did my old signature 'Nancy' smoky eyes (The Craft) and actually put on some lipstick (which most of you know I try to avoid pretty much whenever I can). But what really did it, was the way I felt when I saw myself through a picture on my phone. I see such a difference and it has nothing to do with the new look. There's something new in my eyes...a glow of something familiar hiding just behind my gaze. There's an intensity there looking back at me, as if something finally surfaced...

...and it feels Good.

So I figured I'd edit it just slightly and post it onto the FaceDesk so everyone could see.

I was not expecting the response I received when I checked later on.

Seriously, I am incredibly humbled and touched by all the warmth I read in the comments. As I read them, I was turning a very lovely shade of red that matches my hair -chuckles-

Yes, I definitely needed a change. Instead of chopping all of my hair off and dying it blue-black, I opted for slight alteration, that way it's not such a harsh transition.

And enough of that topic...lol

-chuckles and takes a drink of her coffee-

Something recently has caught my attention, namely in the Supernatural Fandom. It was on Instagram that I noticed a Rant by a Teenage Fangirl of the show, going off about Jensen being Homophobic. This literally made me Stop and just Blink. From what I gathered through her rant, is that Jensen blatantly dismissed a fan for saying that she was Bisexual before she got a chance to ask her question. That because of his dismissal, she was found later on in the convention, crying.

So I did me some research.

I found out, that 18yearold fangirl so-and-so, had the first question, and it was going to be one about what some of the crazier (YOUNG) fans call 'Destial' (Dean/Castiel) and just so you know, whenever it's brought up at Cons, it's just as bad as Wincest (Sam/Dean...ya, don't ask) and you can HEAR most of the Fans/Audience groan in annoyance. It pisses most of us off, honestly. To each their own, but there's a time and place for that kind of topic, and Misha has no problem talking about it with the fans, but most of us know that it bothers Jensen and Jared (more so Jensen because he's more reserved and shy about those kind of questions, and they make him uncomfortable because they've been brought up So Damned much). 

The rant honestly made it seem like Jensen was acting like a total dick. So I found the video.

I'll leave it up to you to decide whether or not he was a 'Complete Asshole' for his response. 

Personally, he reacted the way I have in the past when I've been annoyed about being asked about something I didn't feel like talking about. He wasn't being completely disrespectful, but given the situation... You can hear the audience's shared annoyance, and poor Jared tried to soften the awkwardness of it. You can also notice that Jensen didn't mean to come off the way he had. He didn't want to snap at the poor girl and decided to just skip it altogether. That entire moment was just...shit no-matter which way you go about it. But you can also tell that by their body language, they were already tense to begin with. Not like what I experienced at VegasCon earlier this year. The energy was Waaay different.

Bad timing all around.

Now here's a little rant for ya about the Younger viewers of Supernatural.

Some of the Instagram fan accounts for the show, flipped their shit after seeing Season 9's finale. I won't give anything away (it was damned epic episode) but it was pretty intense. I literally stopped breathing at one point (and thank the gods for fast-forward or I would've passed out) and my jaw was agape... It was very reminiscent of Kripke's old whammies.

I can get the overwhelming emotions it stirred up in the fans, especially pre-pubic, hormonally-dysfunctional teenagers that over-use the phrazes, "Too Much Feels!" "YOLO" "Mom Doesn't Understand Me!" and so on... -gives a smug grin- I'm asshole, I know ;)
A day or so passes, and most of us have had time to ingest what it was that we saw and are now  functioning at our normal capacities. Or so I thought. I go onto Instagram...and fangirl/teenager (the same one who ranted about Jensen) is just going off about how she's sooo depressed and she can't get through her day because she just can't handle what happened. 

I twitched. But I let it go.

Two days later, she's STILL going on and on about how she's been so depressed, she hasn't been able to sleep and she doesn't know how she'll keep going because this is the worst thing in her entire life... 

I literally had to physically Stop myself from letting myself type out what was roaring through my mind.

Mind you, my Father has just slipped away barely a week when I'm reading this... It was bad enough that while I watched the episode, all I could think of is how badly I wanted to talk to Dad about it, that he was missing this... It was Our show. Something that we watched together, even if I wasn't at home at the time. That was Special to us. It's still special to me. So watching it alone... 

-pauses as her chest tightens painfully, her spine aches and tears threaten to spill from her tired eyes-

I was soo tempted to put that 'Child' in her place. 

I was so ready to give her a Real Reason for feeling like shit. I could have told her to shut her fucking mouth and stop being a goddamned child. It's a Fucking Show. Life doesn't stop because you're having a god damned pitty party. Awe, poor baby can't handle FICTIONAL Characters going through traumatic events. You know what's worth being upset about? Losing your childhood home and everything you've ever known to try to save your Father's life, getting an hour maybe less of sleep over the period of several days because you're trying to take care of him as he's getting worse, weaker and is showing signs of dementia. Having to bite your tongue when he cusses you out, growls at you and balls his fist like he's going to hit you because he doesn't want to listen. You choke on your chest pains because you know he's sick and can't help it. You can feel his body starting to shut down and that god damned shadow is getting closer no matter how much you've tried to make it go away. To finally get him medical help and have him Mentally and Emotionally come back to you... To be able to sit and Watch reruns of Supernatural again... To think maybe he's actually going to get better... To get a phone call on Mother's Day that he's not responsive and could go at any time... To have him Wake Up miraculously the next day...and the next day he seems even more there.

To kissing his forehead, touching his hand as he was falling back asleep due to the morphine and saying, "Laku Noc" (Said; Lock-oh-no-tch. Which means Goodnight in Croatian) and hearing him say it back as he closed his eyes... Only to find out the next day that he Died five minutes before I called.

Ya, I could've torn into her and caused her to need years of psychotherapy... But I didn't. Instead I let the tears stream down my face in silence and put my phone down.

Kudos to me for having restraint.

-shakes her head and wipes the offensive emotions from her eyes-

...on that happy note... I need a cigarette.

-Anon-

Updates and Personal Experience

Thoughts, emotions...swirling and twisting without rhyme or reason. I want to get away from them, struggling to find my strength when I'm carried off on a riptide of internal chaos, forcing me to wade hopelessly through memories that seem to be pulling me down into a world from which there is no escape.

I'm so very lost.

I try to make sense of the things dancing through me. The moments of being so incredibly numb with feeling. Within the blink of an eye, as though a switch has been blown and the tears sweep down my face in a tsunami of anguish. I choke and growl, wanting so desperately to find my way back through the fog of pain surging through me. I just want to be normal...

*sighs and takes a hefty drink of her coffee from her Nightmare Before Christmas Thermos*

My life has been gutted open, crimson streams of yesterdays bleeding into the earth as the heart fights to find some kind of peace again.

This won't stop any time soon. It'll fester and weep, the brutal truth of living in a world of such a short existence. It can all be gone within an instant. As Dad would say, "Life happens when you're planning something else."

Can't be still. There's nowhere to go but forward, even if I feel as though my feet have been chained to cinder blocks. So very heavy as I drag what's left of myself down that broken path. Yet another crossroad...but this time there is only one way to go. 

*  *  *  *  *

*scoffs and shakes her head* Gotta love chaotic poeticism when half-asleep.

Change of subject, shall we?

There has been something I've been thinking about lately, a distraction from the agony of my emotional state.

Due to a series of unfortunate events in my life, I was unaware of the shooting that took place recently (gotta love FaceDesk for information streaming like backyard gossip in an old village) and then all the stories that followed. Articles that took hold of my attention and brought old fears and memories to the surface. Topics on Misogyny and Rape Culture. Then the Hashtag of YesAllWomen. This was all a little overwhelming at first (seeing as my mind has been elsewhere) and I let it all sink in. Then I start reading posts; from female friends who decided to share their stories/life experiences.

As I read, I found myself becoming more and more motivated to write down my own experiences.

As a female, you're taught Very Young to be aware of your surroundings and of strangers. Especially Male Strangers. My Father taught me to say no and if that didn't work and I was grabbed, to Bite down as hard as I could, to kick, to scratch and to scream as loudly as possible as I booked it in the other direction. I was fortunate enough to never have to do any of this.

I also noticed that when I was 10, I was heftier than other children my age...but I was also stronger. I also noticed the bullies were actually afraid of me... So I took advantage of my weight as a warning; touch me and I'll sit on you. In kidspeak that was pretty scary *chuckles*

As I started to mature, I was just grasping the concept of being comfortable in my own skin. I was never much for girly attire; skirts, dresses, low cut tops, heels. I was a Jeans, long sleeved shirt, boots, trenchcoat kinda girl. The more covered, the better. I had always been like that. So the one time I decided to step out of my comfort zone at 16 years old... I remember all the compliments I got from a few peers who had seen me out and about. I was wearing a long wrap around skirt over a pair of panty hose, a form fitting tank top, heels, and make up that didn't consist of racoon eyes lol. I was soft and pretty...which at first I was starting to enjoy.

Unfortunately, the first time I try to be more feminine... I learned that saying 'No' to a guy who's much larger and stronger than you... No matter how many times you've explained that you're a Virgin and not ready, that you've had too much to drink and you don't feel comfortable... I said No in so many different ways, Verbally, and Physically...

Psychologically I told myself that I was a victim for the way I'd dressed. I had invited it. I had gotten drunk and was stupid enough to think my wishes would be respected. Even though I'd said No. It was My Fault. 

People wondered why I'd always been so dark, why I had mostly male friends and never dressed up all that much...

*smirks and takes a drink of her coffee*

One thing I always found fascinating, was as I grew more comfortable with myself, many male friends told me I was intimidating and I didn't know why. I was grateful for it, because that kept predators away.

Even though I'm 30 years old, I still hold my head up high, shoulders back and eyes forward whenever I'm out and by myself. I can feel eyes on me but I'm one of those people who will turn and make eye contact. Like clockwork, 9 times out of 10, the person tends to blanch and takes a step back. If you're ballsy enough to stare at me, be prepared to get glared at. I know there's something in my eyes that makes people uncomfortable. It's a challenge. I don't trust people and it's my way of gauging just how confident they think they are. I've got no problem standing my ground. 

I've been fortunate enough that most men won't approach me. Even when I've made eye contact and smile, they smile back but seem nervous. I've heard more than a few men stammer when I've actually smiled and said hello.

There's definitely allot more I can write about... That statistically, females are 'taken advantage of' by men they know. I can vouch for this. But again, I was young... Barely 19 yet and the person I was with had manipulated me into thinking I was worthless because I wasn't a Virgin. That I had nothing to 'Give Him'...

Don't worry, the Universe has a way of working things out. And he got back ten fold of what he did to me.

My heart hurts when I read stories of beautiful friends who've been chased down, followed in parking lots, stalked in restaurants and that to them, there was no such thing as 'No', 'Not Interested', 'I have a Boyfriend' etc. 

I can relate to a degree. But like I've said, I learned early on that I can use my Weight and Strength as an advantage even if my opponent can easily overpower me. I'm about 5 feet and 6 and a half inches tall and teeter between 156-174 but I'm in better shape than I've ever been. I have a fairly dense frame, a strong back, a barrel chest, and I have a big ass and thick thighs for a reason. I'm also graceful and agile...and tend to Hulk out if I get very angry. Let me put it this way... I could push my 2 ton Ellie easily and that was Before I got back into shape. Imagine what I could do now and if I lost my temper.

*smirks*

I just give off this vibe of, "I'm not in the mood so do me a favor and back off. I'm not afraid of you and I will defend myself." Having that playing in my head and feeling confident in my own skin when I'm out, tends to weed out would-be attackers. Sure I get the occasional crazy person, but they're harmless. It's all how you respond. I'm generally very sweet and agree with whatever insane statement they're making. I can sense they're not workin' with a full deck and their words just aren't working right. It also helps that I'm a reader and can actually say what they're trying to say. They don't bother me.

But I digress... I need me some more coffee, another smoke, and I really need to buy my boys more litter because geezuss someone's fuzzy ass exploded *laughs*

I'll make a point to write more on this subject later ;)

-Anon

Mother Earth Will Swallow You

Weird dreams trickle behind these weary eyes as I struggle to wake up by drinking as much coffee as possible. I'm not looking forward to my day... I have to drive to Highland to make arrangements to get Dad cremated...

That's a helluva shock for my brain, but I'm still thrumming with that strange numbness. As though I'm not going to fall apart because I still have things I need to do. I'm already stressed out enough as it is. I will be very broke afterward and have no idea how I'm going to afford keeping my phone on, let alone put gas in the tank of my car.

Little things, when in a horde like fashion, can feel like a catastrophe of unwanted events that make it hard to breathe let alone think straight.

And I was hoping to have something happier to write about today.

*sighs and shakes her head*

I'm trying to be lighter about things, trying to let myself Feel whatever I'm supposed to Feel...and yet I'm still numb in a sense. It's as though it's bracing me for the ache that's been growing in my chest that's been causing my throat to tighten up and my breath to hitch when I think about just speaking to him not that long ago...

I know I have an overwhelming amount of love and support, and I can never convey how grateful I am to All Of You. But right now, this very moment... I am very much alone and I've gotta just deal with it and get things done. I don't have the luxury of falling apart. 

I hate how much this really does hurt me, how needy it's made me (which explains my silence)... How desperately I don't want to be alone, that I need to be around loved ones, my dearest friends. But I don't want to seem weak and needy. I hate feeling this horrid vulnerability. The inner child wants so badly to be held, needing reassurance through the warmth of another's touch... But what good will that do me? Wailing, 'Poor Me' and feeling sorry for myself won't get shit done. So what if I yearn for physical touch? There are others who have either been, or currently going through what I am and may not have that luxury. If they can get through it, then I sure as hell can.

I can hear my own anger as I type these words. I know I'm convincing myself that I can get by without asking for help. Hard-headed and stubborn is putting it lightly.

Faire was a blessing... I was able to get the physical contact I so desperately craved without seeming like a damned cling-on. Simple hugs in greeting, being close to others without exceeding their patience. It really helped...and kept my mind off how devastated I really am.

Act like everything's fine and you'll start to believe it. Which is semi-true. If you don't address the ugly beast about to rear its head, it will destroy you.

I'm trying to be strong...for my family, for myself. I'm an internal mess but outwardly I'm getting by. I just hate how crazy I feel inside. I know it's natural, I know it's a part of grieving someone very close to you.

I've honestly had enough with Death. I've lost so many bright souls in the last few years...and now my Dad... I'd like to have a word with the Fates...preferably running them over with my car for starters.

*lets out a soft growl of frustration and takes another drink of her coffee*

Alright... I'm sorry for being like this. I'm trying, I really am. It's just so fucking hard... *shakes her head*

I need to get this finished, finish my coffee, shower and leave by 2pm because I have that appointment in Highland at 3pm.

Goddess Bast, I really don't want to do this. *actually starts falling apart* I don't want this weight anymore... I'm so fucking tired, so lost and broken. I just want to scream until I've no voice left. I want this horrible ache to leave me.

...I want my Dad back...

*snarls and wipes the offensive moisture from her face*

Heh, I haven't really had a drink yet. And honestly, I could really use one tonight. But I may not even be able to afford that.

*scoffs darkly*

Such is life...

-E-

...Streets Are Uneven When You're Down...

Thoughts have been rolling through me all morning, so many different ways to speak them, express them so that they would dance like gentle butterflies through your mind; all color and joy. But I fear there is no true joy...the warmth having left me a week ago. It's been odd, this numbness filling me. I know I have emotions, I function better then one would expect considering the circumstances. Yet I find myself trying to feel...something...anything at the thought of what's been lost. I find myself puzzled...because there's nothing. Just an emptiness I can't explain.

As though I've been hollowed out and I'm nothing more than a shell of who I used to be. I suppose that means I'll have to fill it with something...but what?

*shrugs and takes a drink of her third cup of coffee*

It does help me from breaking down every few minutes. We all know how annoying that can be when you're just trying to make the next few minutes without your chest heaving and your face leaking causing nothing more than an unwanted mess.

*grows a strange kind of smile that doesn't touch her eyes* 

This is definitely a coping mechanism, just not sure how long it's going to last or if I'll ever be Me again. I don't feel all that different but there is a strange energy taking up residence inside me. As though I've gotten quieter, more calloused. Better to be stone than shattered pieces being scattered into the wind.

I know it's probably the last thing you want to read coming from me. I'm usually so positive, so bright and happy and warm... I'm still me. Mostly. Just without the bright and happy bits. I still have my sense of humor. I dunno, I just...feel more pulled back. As though I keep myself silent when before I'd have no problem sharing my voice on something. 

Probably temporary. Just unsure how long 'temporary' really is. Days, weeks, months? *gives a shrug, eyes filled with indifference as a deep ache flows behind her ribcage*

Watching Supernatural's Season Finale last Tuesday spun me. The episode was a helluva mindscrew, but that wasn't the real reason for that snake of despair to slither up from the depths, choking my voice. All I could think of, was talking to Dad about it. That was Our Show. Then with a sudden invisible slap against the face, the stark reality of him being Gone...missing two of the last episodes of season 9... Never to be around to see Season 10... To never know if our favorite character (who reminded me so much of my Father) Bobby, would ever make another appearance...

These realizations made me physically sick. Even now I can feel a leviathan of emotion swelling just within my chest, wanting so desperately to Rip its way out.

I've been so very close to him all of my life... 

*takes a shuddering breath and sighs; face unreadable*

Trying to get through the next moment, seeing through a tunnel of fog... Wanting so desperately to let the rage fill me, to push away the agony of loss. To stop myself from starting to blame my inability to keep him here... To not go through the 'what if' scenarios trying to tear through my brain.

It's just a gaping wound deep inside that echoes agony every time I try to take a breath.

Function, I tell myself. But I've noticed something odd... I've been tired, so very tired. It's a real struggle to get out of bed in the morning. It's hard to see any reason to do anything anymore. For so many years, I was there for him and he was my Rock... *Is surprised as her eyes sting, just slightly and she has to wet her suddenly very dry lips*

I don't want to feel this. Whatever the hell this is.

I desperately need to get my head in a different state...and really could use a good scotch to burn these emotions down the back of my throat. Swallow the tears and focus on the positive. 

*scoffs* If there's anything truly good left when you feel like a shell and are starting to fight yourself from completely isolating yourself from everyone and everything you love.

Apologies for how...dark this may be. It's not intentional, nor is it me brooding. No, I'm not becoming 'Captain Forehead' (Kudos to those of you who know who I'm talkin' about). But it's odd, not wanting to be around anyone, not wanting to Feel (because it's actually hard to feel anything but white noise) I'm actually quite desperate for interaction. And hard liquor. 

*sighs and shakes her head*

Everything changes, people die and you learn to live with it. Even if it was your Hero, your Rock. The world doesn't stop spinning because your entire existence has been thrown screaming into chaos.

Adapt and move forward. Because that's all you've got.

-E-

Broken Enigma

A shadow has shrouded my vision... A cold and silent thing that stands in the place of a light that has guided me since the moment I took my first breath. Leaving a strange feeling of an incredibly heavy emptiness that I know will never be filled.

A piece of something vital to who I am, a precious inner light...has died.

...I'm not me anymore.

Struggling to keep myself in one piece. Head up, eyes forward, forcing myself to seek out the new dawn. But there's no clear path as everything has been swallowed in that terrible shadow. Like a thick fog it has consumed and devoured my world. Forcing me to tread through a nightmare version of Silent Hill.

I want to tear this ache from my soul and cast it into the fires... Rid myself of this pain, so deeply imbedded within that Death's Scythe would scarcely reach it.

Shattered. Unbelievably shattered. Hollowed out by tragic events of which there was no escaping. Tattered and off-center, hanging off the edge of a cliff waiting for that inevitable fall into a ravenous oblivion.

Seeking solace within the quiet, the silence a comfort as the internal screams echo defiant white noise behind swollen eyes. Desperate to release them, to find the light taken far too soon.

There's only shadows that remain. Unfeeling and hollow they dance along the walls of my mind. They know me here within this tattered mist. Fragmented pieces of a dying spirit strewn out across the floor, a hint of red staining their edges.

Unable to truly describe these...Feelings... Finding a numbness taking over, a strange quiet swirling around me, suffocating me.

It'll pass...and I'll rebuild myself.

But it won't be the same. Never again.

-E-