Masochist

I never thought I’d ever get pleasure out of pain, but…there I was.

Time and time again, chasing after men who either didn’t want to get caught, or men who claimed to love me, but constantly broke promises & tore my heart to shreds.

That would be me…always trying to hold onto that which harms.

Or trying to grasp that which simply dissipated through my fingers like smoke. Ghostly in its insubstantiality.

I must be a masochist.

I was constantly putting myself into a position of pain.

Well…no more.

I’m done.

I refuse to subject my emotional health, my heart, my self-esteem, into that position of self-flagellating hatred anymore.

I can’t do this, anymore.

So, I’m just done getting involved.

I am not going to participate in the game.

It hurts.

And, I really don’t like pain all that much.

Sure, I’d love to have someone come into my life who would be kind to me; someone who would be in a relationship with me. Something that had a hope for a future, at least.

But, survey says…that’s not happening.

So, I’m just not going to play the game at all.

It’s not worth it, anymore.

Not when I’m the one who has to pay the price of it in pain.

In the box you go…

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Hourglass

Life slips away…don’t you know?

It slides right through our fingers, like sand…or water.

It’s so easy for it to slide past us, to wash behind us, and before we even realize it…

Years have gone by.

Oh, but yeah, the memories are there. And they are precious. And treasured.

But when you’re sitting home, alone, with no one to hold, no one to love, to care… At the end of the day.

The sand slips through your fingers like regret burns.

It’s the hazard of the way I’ve lived my life, I guess.

Not to settle for less than love.

Which means I end up alone.

Because the sand in my hourglass is over halfway through, and who wants to invest in that?

Don’t answer. It’s a stupid question.

And I already know the answer, anyway.

I’ve pushed them all away, at some point, so I guess some part of me feels as though I deserve to be alone.

Another year, another measure of sand through that hourglass.

Everyone tells me

“You have to hang onto the good times!” (Live in the past, it’s the only good thing left for you now!)

“There’s someone out there for you, if you stop looking, they’ll find you.” (If I “stopped looking” any harder, I’d poke both my eyes out, honestly.)

And, one of my personal favorites…

“If you’d put yourself out there a little more, smile more, you’d find somebody”. (Just be someone else, anyone else, other than yourself, cause bitch – you depressing!)

You know what? Fuck that.

I’m tired.

If someone is going to love me, they have to love all of it. Anxiety, depression, PTSD, along with the good stuff, the random gift-giving, the snuggling, the back rubs, the kinky sex, the off-color jokes, the random trivia, the insomnia, the random TV & movie obsessions I sometimes get, the odd music I listen to, the love of RPG gaming, all of it. (They don’t have to love my being Pagan, just accept it & not try to change me)

The same as I would have to love all their weird quirks, and learn to live with, or at least compromise with, theirs.

That’s what love is.

It’s NOT about the first flush of passion & the rush of lust that floods your hormones with fire and sparks.

It’s NOT about the lovey dovey eyegasms people give each other from across the room when they first start dating.

And it’s NOT about the giggly phone conversations saying “You hang up”, …”NO, YOU hang up…”

Gag.

It’s about rubbing your partner’s feet at the end of a long day, because he has to walk a lot in hard boots in cold weather.

It’s about cooking dinner while she grabs a shower, because her brain feels like mush after a long day of dealing with stupid people on the phone.

It’s about not killing each other over how you load the dishwasher, or how you fold towels, or whether you fold, roll-up, or fold-into-themselves your socks before they go in your drawer.

I’m just tired, I guess.

Sometimes I wish I had someone here to share everything with. I hate that I come home alone, every night, to an empty house. That there’s no one here to take care of but the cats.

(They’re assholes, but I know at least Sally loves me. She says so every time I sneeze. Truly. I sneeze -she cries & jumps in my lap & checks on my face)

And I’ve gone down the rabbit-hole tangent.

Anyway…

I know I’ll be alone.

It’s difficult sometimes, being on my own.

It hurts.

I’m not used to it, and I don’t really like it. I’d rather have someone to take care of, and someone who will take care of me back.

But – this is where I am.

Whether through past choices I made, or whatever, this is where I’ve ended up.

And the hourglass doesn’t run the other direction.

I have no idea how much time is left.

So, I guess the memories will have to do.

So I Stay Quiet

You know I love you, right?

The way I smile whenever you look at me

The way you can make me laugh

Even when I don’t feel like it

Especially when I don’t feel like it

The way you understand things about me

Most people don’t

You know I love you, right?

The way I shiver when you

Touch me

And my hands shake sometimes

When I reach out to touch back

How you always ask

If I’m ok

Even when I’m not

Especially when I’m not

And want to try to make it better

You know I love you, right?

Even though I can’t speak the words

Won’t admit it out loud

Not even to myself

Knowing there’s no way you’ll say them back

I’ll see that look on your face

The one that says

Good-bye

Again

And everything ends

So I stay quiet.

But

You know I love you

Right?

The Land of Fire

I’m walking in a land of fire

Coals scorching my feet

Sparks flying through the air

Smoke choking my lungs

I know that this trial is somehow necessary, that in order to grow, I must burn away that which has become burdensome. That I’ve come to another crossroads in my life, & I have to fight, to strive, to prove to myself that I am ready for the next step, whatever that may be.

But, Goddess, the fires are intense.

I’ve cut ties with someone I was speaking to. He wasn’t going to live up to his words, anyway. And, my heart was elsewhere.

It’s been tied up for years in someone else’s ribbons, & I don’t think it’ll ever change.

I’m probably destined to spend my life alone, because I gave my heart away to someone who will never show up to fully claim it.

But, if that’s the way it is, I’ll live with it.

My brother tried to make small talk through text about my birthday, as well. *sigh*

After years of issues between us, I’m not going to just forgive and forget everything he’s said & done. I’m not a “sweep it under the rug” kind of woman.

He wounded me deeply, and cannot admit his culpability.

So, I finally said as much back in a text, and – lol and behold – *crickets* since then.

If you cannot admit your responsibility for your actions, if you cannot admit your own wrongdoing towards another person, and apologize, sincerely and wholeheartedly for hurting them, then obviously, you don’t believe you ever did anything wrong.

Update – I just received a text that says “I have no idea what you’re talking about”.

My point exactly.

I’m done.

Convenient how they “forget” the words they use to wound others with.

But I will never forget how he said his “little sister died years ago”.

He’s right.

He killed her.

I’m not that little girl he once knew.

But then, he never bothered to get to know the grown-up woman.

Whatever.

I don’t have time for him.

I’ve got embers in my eyes, and smoke curling around my hands.

Time to take a walk.

It’s Finally Happened

I’ve finally, truly, given up on ever having faith in men.

I just don’t believe that they’ll ever do what they say they will, anymore.

I don’t have any fucks to give when it comes to romance, either.

I’m so done with giving chances to men who shit on me, take me for granted, walk all over me & treat me as though I were nothing more than a convenience drive-through for them.

It’s been a long time coming, this attitude, and a slow death by attrition, but after everything – I’m just. Fucking. Done.

I don’t want anymore promises, no more “please, just one more chance”s… No more winky faces, no more flirtatious texts or DMs on Instagram. No more “trying just one last time” on dating sites, because Goddess knows – THAT is the LAST fucking thing I need. No more damn messages asking me about my “likes and dislikes”.

Fuuuuuuuck… I’m so tired of all the bullshit, only to end up alone again at the end of it all, because it really was all just a game to the other person.

I’m too damn old for this shit.

I’m too old for these men who “claim” they “love me” (ha) and yet they can’t ever seem to make their way to my damn door. Oh, but they can text every day, and want to talk on the phone, sure, cause that’s easy.

But, actually showing up?

Naw, that’s hard.

Sorry.

Fuck off.

I’m busy.

I don’t have time to read your texts anymore, and I’m not answering the phone when you call.

You want to tell me you looove me?

Fucking prove it, bitch.

Til then, I’m out.

I got no fucks to give.

Patterns

My life has followed a steady, predictable pattern since my divorce.

I meet someone, we talk, they seem great, they seem to really like me… A couple have even said they loved me. We’re sailing along at 30,000 feet, gliding on top of the clouds in clear blue skies, smiling and enjoying the ride.

And then – something happens.

Either they suddenly decide to leap from the cabin, yanking the ripcord on their parachute as soon as they clear the emergency exit, like D.B. Cooper, vanishing into myth, or

They suddenly have to change flights for “business”, and can never be bothered to make their way back to me, because I’m just not in “first class”, never minding that I spent my last dime on our tickets, or

the engines stall, the plane falls from the sky, and lands in ice-cold waters, all hands lost at sea, with me washing ashore on some deserted island, no one else in sight.

And once I’ve built my raft, and made my slow and weary way back to civilization… I find out they got picked up by some luxury cruiser 5 minutes after the crash, have been drinking margaritas & have forgotten I ever existed.

Something inside of me is feeling as though maybe I’m not meant to find love again.

That maybe I’m meant to spend the rest of my life flying solo.

Maybe my pattern is the “missing man” formation… Only the one missing… is me – and everyone else flies on without me.

Full Sunlight

There is a beautiful, tragic agony

In Truth

A barren landscape

Full of grinding sunlight

Seeing everything laid bare

In the searing, illuminating glare

It slices deep, flaying you, rending you, driving sand and salt

Into the wounds

Tearing the blinders, those rosy-hued lenses, from your eyes

And still…

Infinitely preferable to the soft comfort of the lie.

Flay me

Rend me

Leave my eyes bare

I’d rather the agony of truth

Over the warmth of the lie

Because that warmth?

Is you – laying yourself down in the bullshit they spread for you.

The warmth fades, but the stench clings.

Flay me

Rend me

Leave me bare

And I’ll heal

In the full sunlight of Truth.