Princess?

Change ~ I ache for it, I crave it, I need it. I can't go back to what I was before, what I did before; fear prevents it. But I know no other way. Who is He in all of this? Are my motives pure? The culmination of my dreams and desires might be forever lost, shattered by this freeze frame. The knight is shining armor is here, having arrived on his trusty steed. But all I can do is forlornly watch from behind my rags ~ begging, pleading, beseeching the shred of princess within to emerge, if only for a day. Hopeless it seems yet unavoidable for with each tick of the clock, with each passing hour, I am moved irreversibly toward the moment I fear will break my heart. Where is she? Doesn't she know she is supposed to be here now? That she is supposed to show up, set me free, and turn me into a princess? I can't work any harder to call her forth and I can't work the magic. So then it is up to Him; it always has been up to Him. He doesn't need my permission but He does need my heart. Can I trust you? What will happen if I give you my heart? Will you make me beautiful? Will you turn me into a Princess?

"Bad"

I feel so alone; deep down in the pit of my soul. All around me, on the outside, life springs up anew. People, places, sights, sounds, smells, vibrancy of color, opportunities, endless possibilities...vitality. And yet at the core there is a longing, a searching, an emptiness. Sometimes it's a quietness; sometimes it's a pang of fear. Life used to "be" so secure. I had a place, a path, a purpose ~ a place to be me, a path to follow, a purpose to fulfill.
.........dislocation , separation............
It has all disintegrated. Even my body has morphed into something I know not. All I have left is my spirit. It is hungry, unsettled, restless, longing. At moments, I surface and grasp the life around me with two hands: I live, I laugh, I love. During these times it seems as though I could almost be "normal". To simply be content with the wonderful life around me. To live out my life with a quiet happiness; enjoying family, friends, food, and drink. Yet when I awake with the new day's sun, the emptiness is there. I couldn't make the magic last. Something still seems to be missing. The longing, the restlessness, the searching......these things that have become so familiar, things that I have come to know so intimately. My confidantes, my companions, my lovers. Does one ever leave these things behind? Or does one accept that they will be constant companions on the road of life only to be swallowed up in death?

Am I wide awake........ or am I sleeping?

Johnny and me

I can't make the radio stop playing U2... but neither can I change the station when Edge begins to play and Bono begins to sing. And Johnny Cash now has open access to the airwaves inside my world. "I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel..." I didn't but he's definitely an apt choice to help you cross the bridge over troubled water.

Cutting off my arm...

to save my body. Would you give up a summer if you knew it would give you the rest of your life? Would you forgo the memories, the people, the experiences, the fullness of 86 days in order to receive the fullness of 365...730...1095... Do you hold on tight in misery as you destroy your future or let go in pain as you set your future free?

I know I have to jump or I might as well quit this life right now. So the jumping...inevitable. And that is why I have to amputate. Because when I jump, I want it to be with complete abandon, into the fullness of life, to be set free, to run and never look back.

Rien

I open my eyes. Nothing is familiar. Nothing is here. I strain my eyes to see something, anything that I know, that I knew from before. But all is gone. Four white walls - yet within them I run through endless corridors flanked with countless rooms, searching for what once was. Nothing. Rooms once stuffed far past capacity, contents spewing out into the corridor, are bare. Nothing. My feet, bare. My hands, empty. Hair, down. Clothes, as white as the four walls. Stomach, empty but not hungry. Heart, wondering but not afraid. Being, solitude but not alone. Lonely but not alone.

Now, though, I feel alone. But I know it is only because I have not yet learned to be in the truest and purest form. Et maintenant, peut-etre, cette lecon est ma raison d'etre.

Away From the Mirror

Refreshed. Last night, stepped away from the mirror and simply existed. Existed with a small group of others, none of whom I knew beyond names but with all of whom I shared a deeper connection...conviction. And amidst that group of souls I caught a glimpse of a reflection, more beautiful than any I had seen at the mirror. I saw the beating of hearts; inhale, exhale, the simple rythym of life; vitality; humanity. Each breath had mingled within it joy and pain, fear and courage, hope and despair. I saw it in the others and, in their listening and being with me, I saw it in myself. Acknowledging feeling, emotion; recognizing our humanity. To feel emotion and in that to be human; neither animal nor machine but truly human. For a moment I was..........imperfect but alive. Perfection was shattered but something real and breathing and beautiful emerged in its place.

Unanswered questions continue to assail me. In futility, I use my mind to somehow pierce this thick, at times suffocating, darkness. I run from past emotion in a desparate attempt to avoid the monsters in my closet. I try to control present emotion in order to be something worthwhile. But last night I saw something that was, through raw and unrefined, rare and powerful. And I begin to realize that perhaps this is wherein the answers are to be found. To be human and to engage my capacity to feel. Overwhelming...shutting down.

Faceless

Empty 8 oz to go coffee cup on my desk; black lid, white body with the logo stamp of a faceless girl holding her own cup of coffee. I finished my latte hours ago, within a matter of minutes, but left the cup sitting on my desk to savor the delight of this coffee experience down to the very last drop. A chill was in the air, still is, and I used the last few dollars in my pocket for a little treat. A faceless girl with my own cup of coffee. Definitely not as cute as the girl on my cup. She has sassy hair and a just-past-knee length, long sleeved, form fitting dress that beautifully compliments her feminine figure; fun and flirty yet classy and sophisticate. Barefoot, of course. And I think, "Were my face to be erased, what kind of imprint would I make on a white coffee cup?" Probably a skirt, some kind of concealing top, baggy or at least loose at the bust and hips. Or perhaps my Columbia jacket, hands tucked into sleeves, long and straight reaching just below my rear end. Very blah but simultaneously safe and protective. Erase my face and there is not much there. I feel as if my face is where my sense of self resides. People say, "Oh, you have a beautiful smile"...."You're such a gorgeous girl"..."What a lovely face". It is true, I guess, that my face is the window into my soul. In my eyes, my smile, you will see the flame of life whether it is burning brightly or if it is snuffed out. It is this face, which I've been given, that has grown and matured into something I do not know. It is too much for me. It used to be young, sweet, innocent but somewhere along the way it crossed some line. As did my body. My body I can cover and hide. But not so my face. Deep down inside, though, I long to be wholely beautiful ~ body, soul, mind. The face is disconnected from the body, the heart from the face. This face they say is beautiful, the one that would make a coffee cup imprint come alive, is naively ignorant~ untouched ~natural. I long to know this with my heart and to reconnect this precious gift with the rest of my being; to know beauty in its entirety.