Sunday, August 29, 2010

Finally I'm Admitting That I Love Him

when i tentatively said to myself, "i think i love him" it felt like that was right. Not right as in right with the world or good, just right as in "correct". i never expected my first "love" to be such a dull ache that spans years rather than a sharp pain that lasts very shortly. (i guess, i kno i havent felt anything as strong and lasting as this and it sure as hell contributes to my depression and misery.)... i had always hoped for it to be with someone that loves me back but nope. and it's been a years long process and it ends the same. im not who he wants. and i will probably cry later. again. shit, after so many rejections and unreturned feelings, you'd think i get better or at least less affected by this. FUCK i dont need this

Friday, August 27, 2010

Maybe I should rename my blog Diary of a Frequently Forgotten and Lonely Black Girl

i didnt realize it till now but i am starting to think that joining a sorority was my downfall. let's look at the facts. pre-sorority, i was confident in myself, enjoyed my own company, self-reliant, and didnt depend on other people to be happy and complete.

when i was on line however all that change. i did it for all the "noble" reasons. i wanted to trust people and friend more and learn to be a part of something other than my own laziness. cuz here was a organization that stated it's values as the same values as i proclaim: academics, helping the community, fighting cultural ignorance, being posed and confident women, and being able to interact with different people. but in order to get that, i compromised so much. and im starting to wonder if any of that is even real.

i was no longer in charge of my own schedule, i had girls tell me how worthless and disappointed in me they were at all times. i didnt have myself and the control to rule my own life. and slowly i crumbled more and more. maybe this whole sorority business has damaged me more than i thought. because now i feel weak, starved for attention, the need to feel truly wanted instead of just tolerated. and i want to impress people. there were times when they kicked me (verbally) while i was down and yeah they would apologize but would do it again and then try to heal the wounds that i never had until they walked in. i have never been on edge so much in my life. it makes me wonder, was i wrong in continuing, in joining, and now, in staying?

before the process i was confident and self assured... and now im the opposite. is it really because of my pledging or is it something else?

i would give all this up in a second if it meant i could go back to how i used to be

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Tired of Well Meaning People: Positive Intent doesnt equal Positive Outcome

these are the times when my slow destruction has clouded out hope of seeing any light of rebirth
i dont know if i will be here still to see myself rise again

It's like...

flying in a cold sky and all of the sudden, a blizzard hits... I cant fight it, I can only land and hide
but as I hide,
I freeze,
I start to die.
No matter that I'm told that it will end soon, or that I will survive.
I cant deny that I'm still dying. It gets colder and colder and I hope that I can hold out until the blizzard ends.

Being alone hurts more than ever because there's no heat other than my own fading warmth. Sometimes there are others who stay for a bit and attempt to warm me with shallow promises and a dissipating presence...
but they leave me so quickly (because obligation and fleeting concern "eventually" flies away) and I end up colder than before and dying that much faster.
Dont tell me there will be relief "eventually" as Im fading NOW. I need something concrete now to hold on to. Making it past this hour is my focus
Dont fucking ever tell me "Eventually" because you know what?
Eventually you'll leave me,
eventually the cold will freeze me.
and the only thing that the "eventual" blizzard's end will do is thaw my dead body so it can finally start rotting

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Heated Chains

Heated Chains: Part 1

I wake up again, panting, wishing for this to be over with already. Shackles of my own loneliness and lust hold me up as I listen for the inevitable footfalls on the stair, which come only when I cease to (hallucinate) again. As I attempt to unlock myself from this self-inflicted pit that I have fallen into, they finally appear. As they walk into the room, my eyes watch with anger at my weakness and embarrassment at the fact that, deep down, I wish be bound like this because I have nowhere else to go. However, each arousal blinds me for longer until the line between what I want and what I have is irrevocably blurred. I stare into the face as it comes closer and closer, kissing me until I fall again into sweet-tasting indulgence and insanity.

These dreams are always the same, my independence and believed inner-strength spat upon as the visions contain my deepest desires. Wishing to be loved for all of me, as my waist and ego are caressed. In this moment, I dont care that this isnt real because this fantasy, this unreality, is the only one that I can claim for myself. There is no guessing, no uncertainty, and no reason to not continue. My life within “reality” has left me little to give up so staying here is too easy.

Again, I fall into a non-sleep that arouses feelings that I always proclaimed that I never had and the heat takes me once more.

Part II: Heated Depths

Within the Dream State
My body is the victim of my thoughts and my thoughts are the night’s prey to my physical cravings. Each intertwine the other in a ongoing circle that keeps me trapped within caresses and chains, wondering if I’ll ever see the light of my self control again

What My Dreams Are Made Of
I dream in emotions where visuals and imagery are secondary. I’m more than just raw, I’m singular and all consuming with the power of what I feel. I wake up with the aftertaste in my mouth and heart and it takes hours to reach any sort of reality again but the heat of my fire stays with me.

Part III: Tentative Cooling

The chains that once burned so fiercely have turned cold on me. After one last effort that blazed into dissipating presence, whatever was holding me here has disappeared. Exhausted and aching I look up at the basement door. I am not sure but I think it's finally unlocked. The only question is if I attempt to escape, will I only be pulled back in. As I walk towards the door though, so far, it seems not

Sunday, August 1, 2010

She saw him at the bus stop: a short story

She saw him at the bus stop, probably waiting for the same bus as her. She eyed him, assessing his black spiky hair, coal-black eyes and rounded pink lips. In all honesty, she thought, he is pretty attractive. She guessed from his laptop bag and obvious Chinese descent that he was a student from the college campus that she lived on with her family. The community that she lived in was pretty mixed but there weren’t a lot of Asian men, save for the ones who were going to the college or members of the community who were already married and rarely seen without their wives.
She glanced at him again, a little hesitant to approach. Her experiences (and the experiences of friends like her) told her that most Chinese guys were even less into black women than white guys. White guys had their fantasies of booty shaking girls while Chinese men, it seemed, just ignored the presence of any womanly essence or personal relativity encased in black skin. However, it’s not like she had anything to lose. Her batting average at a continuing acquaintance after a short-lived meeting was so low that she wasn’t too invested in feeling hurt after a more-than-likely rejection.
She moved closer to him, trying to get his slight attention since his headphones would block out anything she said and the words would fall on the ears of the people around her without any reception. Hey, she said, and waited as he took of his headphones, glancing at her.
“I like your laptop bag. Where did you get it?”
He replied with a glimmer of personal connection, “Oh, I actually got it as a gift”
There the conversation started, the easier task for her since starting things were her forte. It was continuing them, preserving them that seemed to be the problem. True to form, the conversation carried as far as the arriving bus. Still attempting to keep the conversation alive, she talked with him about her need for a laptop in her major as they got in line to pay the bus fare. Unfortunately when the fare was paid and she sat down, he nodded in her direction, passed the open seat next to her, and continued to a seat in the back of the bus.
She sighed, put on her headphones, and used the music to drown out the feedback of her latest rejection.

(Let me know what you think!!)