Monday, September 7

I was following the pack

I have to force myself to write, again. I don't know why I've avoided this for so long. The absence of time is not an excuse, simply because it's relative. I've traded sleep for creation on more than one occasion. But there was always a need. A need to be more than this tangible Athia, a need to be intellectual primordial ooze, a need to split the body and mind---meticulous and calculated, quarter off my soul.

Perhaps this is a good thing. Rather than narrating my life, I've begun to live it. I'm actually enjoying the offerings of the universe (as best I can). Instead of trapping myself in pretty phrases of melancholy, getting so caught up in how clever I am while achieving absolutely nothing, I've just be trying---trying to be happy in a way I've never attempted before.

Is it possible to find satisfaction in what you already have?

Part of me thinks that Andrew is responsible for this. He's good for me. I gravitate towards his energy and I find myself smiling more.


See? There I go again.


Closing the space between us, has distanced me
From the I, I worked so hard to understand.
Like the empty spaces between my fingers
I use to believe yours could wedge perfectly into,
They are left the same, still the way they were
The way I was, the way I had tried not to be.

I wasted energy on finding your love,
A love which never belonged to me,
Nor will it ever.

Because if there's one truth ultimate over all,
It's that love can not choose
It can not be forced or bound.
I can't hold you or I captive or responsible,
Pause and play at my leisure.

This is me letting go.
This is me letting up.
This is me letting the love which is meant for me in.

We're magnetic forces of opposite attractions that can't find each other because we're not suppose to.


I need some freakin' inspiration. Can't you tell? I've got nothing!


The parental unit is treating me like I'm handicap. They won't let me fast, work, sleep in my own room, etc. Every time I try to use the bathroom, my mom follows me in there. Seriously? How's a girl to masturbate without any privacy? (KIDDING. Geez, calm down. I don't even know how girls are suppose to masturbate. It's got to be awfully hard though, since it's reported that over 54% of American women never climax during sex.)


Ugh. I've run out of steam and my head still really hurts. Going to take a nap.



1 comment:

Gabi said...


By the way, (a) female masturbation is not difficult and (b) that 54% is attributed to bad male performance, not female anatomy. :]