i.
The old tree in the back I call “Spot” has changed its colors. When did that happen? It is such a nice vibrant sun yellow. We do still have a sun right?
I have been preoccupied diagnosing my symptoms and analyzing the pain that I’ve been experiencing. Seems so selfish but I can’t ignore the battle my body, mind and heart have started.
I suppose I could just pull the plug and run on auto-pilot but I haven’t a clue where the cord is. And as we all know we were not born with an instruction manual.
Wonder if God has a suggestion box?
My symptoms are compiled of horror, love, western, sci-fi with a load of drama. I smell an Emmy!
My stomach feels like it has been torn out then shoved back in without giving detail to location similar to a scene out of SAW 1, 2 or 3. Take your pick.
There is such a heavy weight on my chest that I panic at the thought of taking deep breaths for fear that I can’t!
And who says the heart can’t break! It is floating in a million pieces all within my body.
Sometimes it reaches my throat and that’s when I have to do that “hard swallow” and tears begin to flow.
And they just don’t stop! I can not point fingers at PMS. The realization is that I’ve just been slapped with a relapse of “NOW WHAT”.
My soul is lined with the image of an evil ghost town. An eerie silence lingers with an occasional moan of the wind sending the tumbleweed rolling. I stand alone between the dilapidated buildings, guns at my side, ready to fire at the hint of attack. A mere whisper of threat!
And who the hell am I fighting, a vulture that is on a non-stop flight to a town with fresh death? Who merely laughs as he passes the abandoned sight beneath him?!
Every now and then I hear the memory of a ghost whisper in my ear “don’t make me go to jail!” I close my eyes and see the shell of a man standing there, with hollow black eyes that stared at me for 13 years piercing into my body and hearing the evil that flowed from his mouth.
Gutting my soul, my heart, my mind! Always in a disillusioned state with blinds closed, doors locked for fear someone would get him. Crawling on all fours like a dog. Unable to control his addictions but control me!
When I left him it was like breaking away from a cult. Jumping out of a window and hoping someone would be there to catch me. And if not, would it be any worse than what I was leaving?
I assumed the great escape from my little shop of horrors would take me to my great hopes in life. Meet someone wonderful, have a family and live happily ever after.
(Squealing brakes… CRASH!!!)
I was at the ripe age of 18 when my choices in “men pickin’” declined and broke free from the last of the rotten souls in my 30’s.
I had NO IDEA who I was or how I was to be after that.
Hence my becoming a mirror image of the first male I came in contact with. You are religious, I am religious. You hate green, I hate green. You are you I am you!
WARNING: Feed me kindness, show an ounce of love and I’ll think you want me for life and to love me eternally!
HURT ME and you’re screwed BUT don’t leave me! I will never leave you.
DAMN. Just damn!
I keep falling into my little ghost town of memories. Wicked words from a sick man still whisper in my ear. Allowing the pain to manifest in me and I reach for bread crumbs to keep me going. Just a little love is all I need but do not expect me to understand it.
Setting my self up to be lonely the rest of my life! Bad memories have a way of pushing away anything good that comes into my today & tomorrow.
Well DUH!
Oh if I could have the power of selective memory loss. Wouldn’t life be grand?
So IT’S TIME TO LAY DOWN THE GUNS and burn down this old town.
Overnight success not guaranteed.
