Abracadabra

It's only natural for someone to feel some kind of happy when they are given something.
Wether it's allotted, presented, upon a superficial holiday, birthday,...anniversary, or just any old
from me to you exchange.

The act of being given something in any positive light makes people feel good about themselves.
They realize in some way they are worth other people's time, money, emotion, ect.

They realize that they are in fact worth more than the flesh and bone we carry ourselves around in.
Causing us to believe that materialistic things are measurable.
Placing our moral mentality on the egotistical high.

Confidence.


When there is too much confidence, people become cocky...
Snarling children make fun of the less fortunate.
Adults will either not realize how incredibly selfish, ignorant, arrogant, or rude they are.
Or they will take it a step beyond that and ACT very much like children with adult aspects.
Protecting what they have around them like someone is going to steal it; for many,
many, different reasons.

Unfortunately in this world things are given too much; too easily to the wrong people.
Or they are not given at all to the ones deserved.

This is where Merit comes in.
Where life has to be earned.




For years when I was a child I was screamed at every day.
For things I didn't understand, things I didn't do wrong, and mistakes I was made.

Constantly forced to apologize, I did.
But then I was told to apologize like I mean it.
So I did.
I did anything to get them to stop screaming at me.
Anything to get them to stop treating me like I was bad.
I begged.

For the past eight years I've extensively worked on the deeper issues.

Instead of getting to the bottom of a well, I dove in.
I found all the leaks, and the cracks..discovering what my life was built on...
I found out what the poison was in the water.
I've filtered it out.


Now I'm dealing with my defects!

For years.
YEARS I TELL YOU!

I have apologized for nothing.
Almost like it was mandatory for me to say it every time I spoke.

If something dropped and I picked it up;
I would apologize to the person I picked it up for.

If I apologized and I got told not to worry about it....
I apologized again.

Saying I'm sorry was ingrained into me.

The mentality of "I was not worth something"
Was in my blood.

One of my patients, that I took care of was a sweet little Texas lady.
Marie.

She was the most profoundly giving, loving kind woman I have ever met in my life.
Someday, when she passes away, I know she will be an angel for many.
Myself included.
I don't care that she's 84 she's one of my besties.

When I apologized to her, for anything...
her simple response:

"What all you apologizin for?"

It really started then to click in my head about 3 years ago on how bad it was.
But my focus was on more important things I needed to fix.

Funny whenever people have apologized to me for similar reasons.
I've always responded with simply: "It's ok, you're human..you're allowed"


I'm not sorry anymore.
This month a couple of things have happened in a social manner where I was treated wrong out of instance by people.
Normally I would have backed down while fussing about it.

I spoke up.
I spoke up, I have been protected, people in an authority are starting to understand me in a different light, and I realized that I haven't said I'm sorry when I need to in a while....

I'm not sure how long.
But the words haven't come out of my mouth lately.

To the whole world this could be a minescule thing...
But for me, this is a sign that a life goal was completed this year.

I'm healed, and moving forward into my dreams.
Nothing is going to stop me.

tin man, lion, scarecrow

I got attrociously drunk tonight.
Don't know how, it wasn't that much.
I had a bottle of wine, and two beers.

But.


But.

I came home after a long day of work and hung out with my room-mates.

They are amazing, and prayers were answered when I moved in with them.
Both of them just as original and different as I am.
They are comfortable and fitted in their own skin.

It's great.

It makes me truly proud to live with the kind of people that I know myself to be.

Tonight, another groundbreaker surfaced as I spent quality time with girls.
Girl I lived with, and bonded with.
Completely void of fear of any sort.

Along with such, we decidedly got drunk and went to a bar.
Running into boys, one of which was throwing options and complements at me like a verbal frisbee.

I dfended myself after turning him down gently so many times that he made a point to be a GENTLEMEN and carried me out of a bar.

I feel like I'm in the middle of a fairy tale.

With men, it's virtually impossible for me to not be a bitch by initial instinct.
I don't want that.
I'm sweet, I like being sweet.
Women frighten the crap out of me.
They are mean, vindictive, hurtful scowling crazy bitches.
Men are good people most of the time.
MOST of the time.

The rare ones are the best.
Nerdy white, intellectual, jokingly sarcastic hippies with a sweet side and sexy arms who might be taller than me.

I wish I could find one that was strong enough to grab me. Kiss me.
And tell me that he wants me for good.

I wish a man in my life who knew me for what I was before...who saw the difference could look at me and appreciate the breakdown of a chemical that my soul is.

I'm a different breed.
I want a life with fulfillment of a woman, and the legacy of a man.

I wish I could let love in.

Instead I have to be a fiesty bitch.
Like some sort of protective shell because I was forced to ask for a hug while I was growing up.
To heal myself.
Instead I've sufficed with a bandaid of egotistical verbatim in form.

I want a man to go past that.
Beat me down with emotional gentility.
Move me.

Tonight, like any other night...not to sound condescending....but...let''s face it; my ass is candy.
I get hit on a lot.
I'm learning how to be honest. Without feeling bad.
And tonight, I tried to let a guy down easy.
Tried.
Didn't happen.

It was almost like he wanted to fight....
really?

I mean I get turned on with banter....but really?
A turn down?

Please don't make me do this.
I have fought so hard to learn NOT to do this.
I don't want to have to work for approval.
I want to be accepted for my personality, I want to be loved and appreciated for it.
Not my defense mechanism.
I want to be a girl.
For one Fucking day.

I want to be completely sweet, not have to defend myself once.
Be pretty, and easy going and happy.
I want a man who makes me comfy.
Like the kind of sofa, that is brand new, but already somehow broken in to the point where it's so comfortable.....you fit.

I had to make a point to describe about the fact that
No. I'm not an asshole.
No. I don't think you are ugly.
No. I'm not the girl who is going to sleep with you to prove you wrong.

No.


I'm just not the type of girl to throw my legs up and scream for any guy.
I want love.
Real, honest, best friend, food fight, dancing drunk, board game, silly speak, true love.
Is it so wrong that I have had to fight for air in my own lungs so much as to be human....
That the one thing I truly want ....
the only thing I ever want to be given in this life is the one thing I've earned by birth.


I'm so cliche it's gross.

Part of me is sticking my metaphorical finger down my own asophagus.

But really.

I want gushy. Mushy. Squishy love.

Lobs of love.
Hugs and kisses, and dark chocolate and lilies on valentines day.
I want cheezy movies, beer, wine, nerdy t-shirts.
Late night cooking and snuggling while watching a documentary.
Banter and music jamming.
Even matching halloween costumes.


Just because I'm different doesn't mean I don't deserve it.

It mean's I'm better than half the bitches out there.

In more ways than one.



No no, Not just any guy. But any particular guy who isn't close to the one.


I'm picky?....WTF do you want I'm a woman in New England...

Where's my fairy tale.
Who's the fairy?
And where is my prince charming.

Also. I started a writing project today.
Last night I went to visit my friends, and an idea for serious effort came into mind.
I did what I knew I had to do.
I ran with it.
With confidence.
I'm about to make waves with my imagination.

What I'm about to say should have, would have, could have and did come sooner.


I love my roommates is the speculation.

As far as my writing goes- along with my life

I know what I want. And I'm going for it.

Grab your napkins...
I'm collecting date logs.
......................This is about to get juicy.

The Many Colored Horse.

When I moved.
Quit my job.
Seeing this as completely reasonable in my jaunt to better myself as a step forward.

The non-negotiable action of unpacking;
leaving what is unwanted behind on my path
unpacking- which is mandatory considering that's exactly what -it- is.

A move.

Unpacking is one thing.
Breaking down boxes is another.

There is a storage room in this new apartment, where I put the extra boxes and not much that I held close to memoir.

Unpacking, sorting through, disposing of anything unworthy or unnecessary in my life for what it has come to be.
Then; of course;
Breaking down the boxes.

Breaking down the boxes was not nearly my preparation for maybe having to move one more time.

Supplying the comfort to my irrational fear based on things that have happened.
But that's just it.
They HAVE happened.

Past tense.
I'm trying so hard to let all of what's behind me stay there.
I tore up the boxes.
Breaking them down, I broke down.
Tears might have gone down my cheeks a little with the known sense that I was going to be at risk emotionally if I thought about it.

So I didn't. I didn't let the fear seep into the well of my imagination.
Boxes be no more.

I am left to bewilder day by day.
The definition of home.

I've been job hunting online.
Hunting. Seeking.
Not applying.

Being seriously hesitant for the first time in my life.
Wading as a waitress is the lingering position at state in this rediculous chess game.
I've not decided what it is I want to do.
Not a clue.

I feel like a little kid in a sand box with tonka trucks, jenga pieces, puzzles, linkin-logs and legos around me. I yearn to build life.

The salamanders outside the sand-box on the ground taunt me.
Living life, it's time for me to join them.

There are so many opportunities around me.
I see them, and this time I know that I have luck and positivity on my side.

The irony of having openness of opportunity around me,
is that I've come so far;
I'm afraid that if there's a mistep at the biggest choice I make and failing happens.
This time, It's an open portal into the abyss of life.

The most stubborn person I have ever met, is in my mirror.
Even I know when to back down against life, other people, and situations.

But not myself.
I'm at war here, and there's a catapult of "I told you so's"
hurdling their way from the pessimistic neurons in my brain if my optimism and work is broken down by life's ammo; named shit.

I'm so scared.
I've always been alone in this.
But the wall of nonsense stone was my little protection.

It wasn't just protection for me.....
I theoretically feel bad for anyone who pisses me off.
They might need a box of tissues and mental neosporin for Wonder Woman's lasso of Truth.

The page of self defense has been turned.
Truly, I'm not holding back with the fuck off's anymore.

Now along with starting applications for jobs I really want, writing more...and enjoying freedom.
I plan on learning how to balance out my mean by being sweet,
when I really honest to god, want to be.

For me. That's a toughie.