Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Sexually Satisfied

Looking for him to invade my space

I open myself

He swallows the knowledge I throw at him

And in return he gives me a taste

He caresses my breast with a swift stroke of his hand

His touch beckons me to his every demand

My ghetto wordsmith plays chopsticks on my mind

Working his way line by line to a predetermined destination...a predetermined time

Before thoughts that were his genuinely become mine

Pleasuring me comes first

Riddled with metaphors and similes

He uses like and as in the same paragraph

Simultaneously and it has nothing to do with the tightness of my jeans

He tickles my pink ribbon with hyperbolic dreams

The things he says are never as they seem

I am his toy; he playfully tantalizes and taunts me

Leaving me hanging on each word

Whispering sweet nothings into my ear

"Can you hear me?"

I embrace him and release more than just my fear

I beg for more as he goes deeper

Deeper into here; my core

Being more than just a sexcapade

I let him take me there

Reaching out I pull him into me

And 2 somehow equals one

We reach our seemingly infinite peak

A voyage that likes to touch but only mandates speech

Tears fall from my eyes until my truth becomes yours

The truth that what you share with me takes me on the greatest high

Yet I escape the dangers of lust and promiscuity

Your juices become mine

We produce offspring

Reading and writing between the lines

An exchange of the minds

That leaves you and I sexually satisfied

It's easy to choose death, but it's hard to choose life

So it's the moment of truth. The moment that will forever ever change my future. I sit here at an empty table with nothing more than my laptop, my frappuccino, my favorite song on repeat and a vivid imagination to enhance my memories.

Today I listened to a song and it took me to a special place. A place I haven't been in so long and a place I hope one day I'll reside permanently. We are all a reflection of our pasts. Whether it's been good or bad, it has inevitably shaped each and every one of us into a person different than who we would've been if it didn't happen. Today, I sit here and type one of my deepest darkest secrets knowing that I will be embraced by few and judged by many; still I open up to you...my audience. Collectively you are comprised of people who have walked in shoes worse than mine, equal to mine or better than mine, yet I feel that everyone can take something different from what I am about to share. You will come to realize that secrets from our past don't have to be the end of our futures. Life begins with love. You gotta love yourself before you can expect anyone else to love you. And if you don't love you, you are in for one hell of a ride. I'm just learning to love me, but it's never too late.

This is the story of why I live.

Life. Such a sensitive topic that time and time again has been approached as a glass half empty philosophy (or even half full for my optimists). I am what I like to call an optimistic pessimist. LOL Allow me to explain myself if you will. I was born a happy little girl. I prided myself on being that smart girl with straight As that you could always turn to when you didn't know the answer to a riddle...shit or even life. But my life is nothing like I imagined it would be or anything like it could have been. Life is all about how we choose to respond to things and not so much what happens to us.

Most of you that have been following me know that I started drinking at the young age of 10. How do you trace back a single event that would lead you down a road of unhappiness? I drank. I assumed that identity and I became that girl. It started slow and progressed into a serious problem for me. Iceland was great! But life after Jersey wasn't quite as pleasing to me.

At my worst, I was getting wasted before homeroom and again at lunch. It was all that I felt I could do to make the days go by. My parents were clueless. They didn't know I was a drunk and they don't know what I am about to reveal. By my sophomore year in high school I was drinking Everclear and just about anything I could get my hands on. I had earned the nickname Alkie (for obvious reasons). I was depressed. So depressed I actually thought I could drink my way out of it. I laugh at the thought now as I look back on where I once was mentally.

I remember days I would wake up crying because I didn't die in my sleep. Could you imagine being 16 and hating life so much that you not only cried yourself to sleep every night, but you also cried in the morning because you knew what the day would hold for you? The same agonizing torture day and night. A torture that I would've done anything to escape.

I wanted to KILL myself. I popped pills and eventually settled for cutting myself. Yes I was a cutter. For those of you that aren't familiar with cutting, it's actually a pretty common phenomenon among our young people. Many say its a cry for help. Its the coward's suicide attempt. Of course many people eventually graduate on to committing suicide, but most of us are lucky enough to get help. And although I would never advocate cutting, oh how I can remember how soothing it was to cut myself. How soothing it was to take the power into my own hands. How soothing it was to control the pain that was hurting me rather than to just sit back and do nothing.

I scarred my body. I mostly used an exact-o knife that my mom had for sewing. Its a long cylinder with a sharp razor at the top. I can remember running into my room and locking the door and rocking in my bed sliding that blade across my skin as tears streamed down my cheeks. I felt better by doing this. That was me wanting to be brave enough to press down hard; to cut the right way. It was my attempt to escape the urge to crash my car off a bridge or into oncoming traffic.

My thighs hid my pain...so much that I enlisted my hands to participate in my redemption. I distinctly remember the day I forgot my gloves and this girl from school saw the scars on my hands and threatened to report me if she saw it again. Was I scared straight?

To be honest I cannot remember. That was the year I got alcohol poisoning and my memory still has gaps in it. I just know that after the incident my junior year, I could no longer stomach any liquor. So I did the only thing I could; I quit. And the cutting...well I don't know how I moved past that but I did. And I never mentioned it again. Well...until my freshman year in college when I was assigned a group project on self-mutilation and decided that I wouldn't let my story go unheard. I googled self-mutilation and found so many people who were just like me. People who knew what it felt like to hurt and how it felt to take control of the pain. That year I stood in front of a room of college students and explained how I felt and what led me to thinking cutting was all that was out there for me. My teacher pulled me aside after class and with tears in her eyes she thanked me for sharing my story; she thanked me for having the courage to share those painful words.

When life throws us that almost fatal blow, we must have the strength and courage to pick up the pieces and move forward.

So why do I live you are probably still wondering? In the simplest of terms, I live because they didn't. I live for my family that got their lives taken away so early: my maternal grandmother, her youngest son, my mom's only nephew, and my cousin who was my best friend. I live for them because they can't live for themselves. I live for every person that has ever been victimized and made a full recovery. I live for every person that felt the way I did, but didn't get help; every suicide victim. Every life lost; everyone fighting in Iraq. They are fighting for me so I can't make it in vain. It's easy to choose death, but its hard to choose life.

I choose to live. I choose to put myself out there in hopes that someone feeling real down realizes I've been lower and managed to rebound successfully. We must face the past before we can move into the future. This is something that will not hold me back. This is something that happened and doesn't dictate my future, it just reminds me of the past.

So this is nothing more than my "buck twenty five" or $1.25 for those who still don't get it. I have too much to say for $.02. To inspire is one of the greatest gifts man can give to someone else. Imagine having the power to make someone feel invincible like they can take on the world.

I share my mistakes so you don't have to experience what I went through. My life is an open book; experience my story with me. This journey was intended for the both of us...and it all starts with love.

Friday, October 9, 2009

The Best That Ever Lived

They always said bad things came in twos.
So July 4th 2004 Mikey met his fate
And 8 months later to the day I lost you.
My life forever changed
Like hurricanes rain destruction
I rained agony & pain
So bad sometimes my heart stopped
Trying to figure out why you're no longer here
I point blame
Creating fictitious reasons to hate those close to you in your name
Constantly awakened abruptly from my sleep like it was just a dream
Tried to laugh away my sorrow
And thus the invention of what I called the suicidal gene
This urge that we feel is real
And life's this bitch that pierces your soul and cuts through your body like steel
And I know you were stronger than me
So the fact that you chose death over life
Is the kinda truth that kills
The kinda truth that finds me awake at 4 AM...writing if you will
An agony that leaves salt stains on my cheeks
And as I stand here in front of you
Listen to these words as I speak
Because they are more than just words
They are the collective collaboration of my sweat and tears coupled with grown woman fears and a life filled with pain
They are my story
It is my truth
It is the realization that how you live your life is completely up to you
It's knowing that in your darkest hour you have everything to gain and nothing left to lose
It is accepting that a bruise on your heart is nothing more than a bruise
And don't get it twisted
I write this for me not you
Because I see you in everything I do
Whether its hours of star gazing
Or searching for clouds that look like you
I see the truth and it hurts
A pain that I could never really describe with words
So I hide my tears and disguise how you see me
Riddling poetic words til all you see is this
My self proclaimed tribute to the best that ever lived

Who Will Remember You

My world spins like whirl winds
Wondering will I ever get any ends
And when the hell my happy ending begins
My tears bring rain
That floods what's left of my sanity
I wonder what could it be?
I stare at my reflection aimlessly
But the image I see staring back just isn't me
My fake hair, fake eyes & big tits
Are nothing like who I use to be
Yearning for the intellect I no longer see
Whispering similarly to he loves me he loves me not
Til the sun sets and I'm just as alone as I was on my born day
But today I learned to realize
Broken dreams & heartache turn
Week days into weak days
And the words I speak just don't seem to resonate like they used to
Loud words fall upon deaf ears
From boisterous lips
As I clumsily stumble upon the realization that life is as good as it gets
You see...when the air inside your lungs cease to exist
Death is all you're left with
And maybe everything you complained about isn't necessarily shit
From the job you didn't get
To the husband or wife & the 2.5 kids
And if that damn picket fence still wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Like footprints in the sand
Your memory will one day fade
And without physical artifacts,
Who will remember you?
Who will remember your words?
Unheard by so many but imagine
You buried and gone, but we can still hear your dreams
Calling out from beyond our world
And no matter how scary or sweet death may seem
You'll be far from a distant memory
I accept in life, there are things that I sometimes forget
But you, I will always carry with me