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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| While I was looking through my old faebook messages, I came across one of the threads between Chaz and myself, and as I read through the messages I was smiling to myself because I could remember the day(s) over which the messages were sent. In this particular thread, I also came across the story that I asked him to write for me to cheer me up.
In a land far away, not too long a time ago, a young traveler came across a stretch of trail that from far as his eye could see, led him into even stranger lands. This young traveler was afraid of what may happen to him as he ventured into those lands, so he paused under the old elm, which held warning of the foreshadowed boundaries. Hasty to pass was the time before this traveler passed into slumber, his mind racing and running with the hare’s speed to uncover his reason of endeavor. His wish of returning to his maiden was rival to the powers of songbird’s tune, forever with the strength and light of love to guide him. His slumbers led on, into deeper memories…
…Memories of the two of them from long ago. Her shining eyes and smiles ever-promising joy and happiness. Sunny and bright were the days of long ago. Hardly ever had they shared a day apart, yet now with the days and years of distance. His need ever the strongest to see her, now with full of intent to break the silence and return to her arms once again. Once had his fateful past spurred the two adrift, yet, time proven to change, has led him anew return. Unknowing of his true limits of slumber he ruined into a masked pain: commitment for such a distance of time. He was unsure whether she had remained to him, his mind racked with this pain, awoke him suddenly. Little had this traveler known of his slumbers lasting to the last light of day. He suddenly hastened forward into the unknown to once again see his maiden. The woman he still loved, whether the distance of time, whether the hidden pains of question, whether he would ever see her again, he still loved her.
That's a direct copy-and-paste. It's not very good because of grammatical errors and such, or even very long, and although I have another copy without the errors (because I edited it), I think I like this one better... :) | | |
| Happy Birthday, Nana. I love you. ... I wish you were here for me to say that to. | | |
| Dear Nana, It's been 25 days. This saturday will make it a month. I still miss you, some days I miss you so much I think it might kill me. I've been really good about not crying as much, and every time I don't cry when I really want to, I feel myself get a little stronger. I still cry sometimes as I'm falling asleep just because I know that there's no one around and no one's going to be seeing me, so who would know? I've been meaning to write this for awhile, I just haven't been able to bring myself to do so. I wish I could've gotten up in front of all those people and told them how much you mean to me and just how much I loved... love you. I wish I could've been strong enough then. I wanted to tell them that out of our entire family, you're really the one who made me believe I could do anything I wanted, the one who I believed would be on my side no matter what I did beause that's just the kind of person you are. I wanted to tell them how I remember being a little girl and if I got hurt and ran in the house if you kissed the "boo-boo" it suddenly wouldn't hurt anymore and how Mom's kisses didn't make it feel better because they weren't "magic". I wish you could've met my boyfriend, Chaz. You would have liked him a lot; thought he was funny. And then Jeff would've told you what a "good" kid he is, and how good for me he is while I pretened not to hear. And from then on whenever you talked to me you would ask how he is and if I'm still with him. Maybe I'll tell him one of these days how much you would've liked him, he'd be touched to hear that I think. Mom's doing okay... at least I think. I don't believe she's as okay as she seems. She's lost weight, I noticed the other day. She misses you so much. And I think both of us severely regret how much we may have taken you for granted and I am so eternally sorry. Gage misses you too, I noticed that when I went into his room today he has the owl figurine that he asked us to pick out for him in front of his mouse cage. I still haven't unwrapped the ones I picked out, but I carry a small one in my coat pocket. The Friday after... it happened I was wearing one of the rings I found, the one with the blue stone in the center and looked like a firework, and I was wearing it at work. A customer commented on how pretty it was and it was the most difficult thing I've ever done in my entire life to say "it was my grandmother's". I wasn't ready to change the tense in which I spoke about you, I'm still not, so I try not to talk about you even if you are never far from my thoughts. Mom told me not too long ago that I have your laugh so I'm trying to laugh more. I'm trying to be happier, not to be as sad. I'm trying to get back to my life but it still seems to surreal. And somedays I feel like it never happened... that you're not really gone. ... I wish I could hear your voice again, just once. - Kirstie Lynn | | |
| The other day when Chaz and I went and visited Kayla, I told her that I was planning on getting a tattoo in the next couple of weeks. I told David about it too and asked him to go with me because... well, for some reason I really can't imagine going with anyone else to get my first tattoo. David can really keep me from being anxious about it, I guess. Yesterday when Chaz and I were out on our date night, he brought it up, that I wanted a tattoo soon. He also offered that we go this weekend to get our first tattoos together (obviously not matching ones or each other's names or anything like that) this upcoming weekend, and for the life of me I can't explain why I don't want him to be there when I get it done. I read a postsecret not too long about that said "I never tell people the meaning behind my tattoo when they ask... I have a very strong feeling I'm going to go crazy one day and the tattoo is a small part I'm hoping will keep me sane". That's kind of how I feel. I want to get the phrase This too shall pass tattooed on my wrists, "this too" on one and "shall pass" on the other. The reason behind it is not cheery or pleasant, and the reason behind it is not exactly something Chaz is comfortable talking about so I don't think I'd be able to go get it done with him, because it's something so personal to me. Which I know doesn't make sense, because I should want to share every personal thing in my life with him. And I do... but this is not for other people, this is for me. This is not like a piercing I can take out and forget about, this will be here forever. I'm a cutter. I've never had a problem admitting it, or people finding out about it. That's just part of who I am. Granted, I haven't done it in quite awhile, but that's what I am. I've struggled with it since the 7th grade and it's not just something that one can "get over" as my parents would like to think. My tattoo that I want is what I'm hoping will keep me from doing it ever again. To remind me that no matter how much I feel like doing it, how upset, how sad, how [insert depressing emotion here] I feel, that it will pass even if I feel like it won't. My tattoo is supposed to keep me sane, strong, empowered almost. When the time for Chaz and I to break up comes along, I don't want to look at my tattoo and be reminded that he came with me and that he was there when I got it. It would only seriously upset me. .... I don't think he would understand. | | |
| ... This is a short story based on a dream I had.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly raises her head to meet the eyes of her reflection. What she finds there in the depths of green and hazel is mostly anxiety and uncertainty. With the slightest shake of her head, she wills the unpleasant feelings away as she leans closer to the mirror to ensure that her make-up isn’t smudged. She isn’t sure why she still bothers after all this time because she knows it doesn’t truly matter one way or the other. She grins ruefully and turns from the mirror and pulls open the bathroom door, gracefully stepping over the outfit she wore earlier in the day.
She tries to feel the confidence that many people believe her to possess, but she can’t help that he still makes her giddy and nervous. She finds him lounging on the bed with his hands behind his head, as if to silently tell her that she took too long. Knowing he heard her exit the bathroom, she merely sits on one hip and watches the man who has managed to occupy her heart, invade her dreams and lurk in the corners of her mind. It was likely he would never understand, but she found him absolutely beautiful from the calluses on his hands to the eyelashes that frame his eyes.
Finally, he opens his eyes and finds her standing across the room, and although he could cross the small distance in a few strides, it stills seems like too great a distance. His mouth eases into grin as he takes in the change in her attire. He starts at her feet and slowly admires the length of her legs until he meets the edge of the fabric that brushes high on her thighs and lightly rests against her curves. When he finally reaches her face he can see her confidence slipping because he had stared a moment too long and she starts to fidget, trying better to disguise the problem areas of her body, thinking maybe she should have worn her hair up or put more gloss on her lips. And as surely as if she’d said it all aloud, he knows the thoughts that had suddenly begun to bullet around her brain.
She hears the springs in the mattress whine as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands. She keeps her eyes on the carpet beneath her feet to avoid watching him take the few steps to cross the room to where she still stands. She can feel the blush begin to burn under her cheekbones once she realizes that he’s standing in front of her, but instead of looking up and acknowledging his presence she keeps her eyes concentrated on the ground.
Chuckling, he places his finger under her chin and eases her head up until she is looking him in the face. And although her head is tilted up, she still avoids looking anywhere but his eyes. Gradually, his hand moves from under her chin until it is knotted in the thick tresses of her unruly hair. She almost forgets to breathe when she feels the tips of his fingers ghosting against her leg, playing with the hem of the nightdress, teasing her, seeming to wait for her to push his hand away. As he leans forward and presses his lips to her forehead, it seems to her that her heart is the only one that skips a beat and the only thing that stops her from throwing herself at him is the fact that she does not wish to embarrass herself.
She leans into him, the pads of her fingers sneaking beneath the edge of his shirt because not being able to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her hands is devastating to her, and the thin material of his shirt is even too much of a barrier. She laughs when she hears him gasp because her hands are cold, but she makes no movement to take them away. She goes to the balls of her feet to momentarily close the distance provided by their differing heights and presses her lips to his jaw. As she lowers herself to her normal height, he tilts his head down, a smirk pulling one corner of his mouth and rubs his thumb along the angle of her cheekbone which she knows is probably warm to the touch.
The waiting is almost agonizing, and this is something that he knows which is exactly why he prolongs closing the distance between their lips. His lips brush her forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose the finally pauses a mere breath away from her lips. She bites her lip and tries to lean forward to close the small space, but he leans just out of reach so she kisses air. All he does is laugh and smile while she pouts and whimpers.
“What do you want?” he asks, cupping the side of her head. When she doesn’t answer, he asks her again, humor dancing in his eyes, “What do you want? Tell me or you won’t get it…”
Glancing down, she takes a breath and says weakly, “I want a kiss…”
Then without further hesitation, he seals his lips to hers. Her eyes flutter closed and the burst of happiness in her chest is so gloriously painful that for a moment she’s sure she might die. And there in his arms is her favorite place in all the world because she is completely at ease even just for a moment. He breaks away first and she almost stumbles forward, but he catches her like he always does and laughs. Her cheeks burn anew and she licks her lips, pink and swollen from kissing.
“Is that what you wanted?” he wonders and sounds breathless, but she can hear the lighthearted humor lacing his words, even though he already knows the answer.
Her eyes narrow in a mock glare as she leans up and kisses him again, pulling him closer as he presses her body into the wall behind her, his hands traveling to grip her hips.
And as she falls madly into bed with him in a cacophony of heavy breathing, desperate moans and sighs every thought that does not involve him, her, and the tangle of their bodies is erased from her mind.
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take me as i am ©
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I live, I laugh, I love, I learn. I scream, I cry, I crash, I burn. .. I love with all my heart.. I scream with all my breath.. I live with all my soul.. I sing with all my voice.. I speak with all of my eloquence.. I write with all my truths.. I learn with all of my mistakes
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just for you ©
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there ought to be a place to go when you can't sleep or you're tired of getting drunk and the grass doesn't work anymore, and i don't mean to go on to hash or cocain, i mean to go to place besides a death that's waiting and a love that doesn't work anymore
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make some noise ©
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Emma Says ©
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all you have to do is dream.
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