It feels like I’ve got 2% of me
Left that is capable of thriving
If a partner added their own 2%,
Together this would be doubled –
Which in love’s realm multiplies,
Building on energy exponentially.
But until capability is met equally
I cannot afford further distractions.
One might not think that an end can be a new beginning, but when one heart has remained by subconscious default somehiw still waiting, it can be good to finally infuse awareness and know that it is time to close a once valued, open door.
We have come far by putting one foot in front of the other, and strategizing against the odds.
I must allow myself to wait on answers,
For I’m not ready to address these tests
Which loom by soon-revealed scans and
An answer from one, delayed by surgery.
I dreamed of birds on my shoulders and dogs by my side.
I can no longer give any time to any man who interferes with the flow of love, directly and/or indirectly, and who does not advocate for it for mutual beneficience as I do.
There are some things that I simply will no longer put up with.
Following them (at least loosely) lets us know where we stand when upon a path of insecurites.
What I could want – what I could hope for, aspire to, and cultivate – is rendered moot when waitting to hear another’s decision.
I will keep mine, thank you.
Just give me some room to breathe!
In-depth comprehension tends to exacerbate.
If I am alone, I must stay focused.
Bundled up tight so that I remain productive.
I must be strong, valiant, and cobble together assurances.
When I allow myself any room to feel the need for loving support, I simply fall apart.
For I am very hurt.
Too injured.
Yet, I am the ons in charge of navigating myself through perilous seas to find my own safe harbors.
What will become of me in these processes?
Sometimes I cry.
Mostly, I want to scream.
I am not alone, and yet I am.
It surprises me to realize how much my heart suffers in sense of isolation.
How, when I review, my life encounters in love have experienced too many sad endings.
None of them gentle – although to an outside viewer, most would be seen as hardly a blip on the screen.
And each one has been important.
It’s as if I have endured great tragedies.
Perhaps it is because I understand the hidden ramifications behind the scenes.
Why would I wish to try again when I have only encountered broken hearts barely surviving and kept sleeping?
Men seem to get angry and resentful when it comes to needed healing.
The one for me is likely locked away and heavily guatded, if he is anything like – yet wiser than me.
(Title play with words)
One aspect of being a “shifter” is that such a one is adaptable – often more so than the average person.
Due to this, we are not bound by the roles we play daily in the same way as others when we are simgle.
Therefore, finding a partner who is compatible is difficult because we tend to dwell in unique venues.
(Title play with words)
Modulating and limiting distractions to ensure my clear signal comes through.
There was a boy I cared for that one day my best friend whom I loved dearly turned against me when we were very young children.
It used to hurt so badly when she and he and whatever posse they were hanging with for the day would go after and target me.
They would hunt me down frequently and repeatedly, for there was only so far that I could escape for seclusion within an enclosed, large playground, and there was little else more interesting in their minds for them to do.
With cackling glee, they would trespass and throw their “sticks and stones” at me – but if they reached for me, I would dodge and run to outpace them.
One day, years later in my late teens, I visited where the boy’s family had meved in order to check up on him.
You know, to see how life had treated him because back then, he had considered himself Apex.
His mother who used to disdain me was happy to see me and welcomed me in to wait for him.
She had been friends with my mother in the past and told me and life had not been easy for her while she was married, so she had divorced her husband and taken over the farm.
She shared with me that the once boy/now young man had been lonely for some time, unable to fit in well and be accepted by high school society.
I thought that perhaps then he would feel comfortable with me again, since we could relate to similar experiences and surely by now he had matured further and “evolved” to reclaim his essentiality as I had been striving to do.
But to my internal panic’s dismay, when he was alone with me, he outright propositioned me lewdly and aggressively.
I backed him down gracefully and got the heck out of there – upset and distraught by the whole encounter.
It was disturbing to me that a boy once sweet before “turning” could have been driven so harshly by societal rejection further down the path of extremes.
Somewhere deep inside me, I had always hoped that he would somehow find his way back to innocence.
As a child in the 70’s, certain abuses were prevalent – and it was expected that victims keep quiet as they were shuttled from one unknown risk zone to another.
Incomplete thoughts we use to fill gaps where truth is unknown or absent.
What qualifiers ought I to allow to define this for me?
Pain – especially when unrelenting – ignites my anger.
Feeder vessels are smaller medium-sized freight ships that transport cargo between small ports and major ports. These vessels mainly collect shipping containers from small ports and transport them to transshipment hubs where they are loaded to bigger vessels for further journey.
Injured on next level complications, I laugh at my determination to continue my retraining despite the pain and needed “mandatory bedrest” – so that at least in spirit, if not in body, I may manifest my “Rock Star.”
I guess when one is climbing to reach great heights, avalanches and mudslides are to be expected.
Pear Apple Crisp Latte
How many times to the ER must I go to be back on track, restabilizing from this accident?
They say “trust no one” and “don’t let your guard down.”
But at the right time, under the right circumstances, we find ways to connect with each other.
Showin’ up, doin’ the work, and waitin’ for nerves to simmer down and reconnect.
Non-artifice; lack of pomp – except in cajolery.
What I am going through is just a normal process of “aging.”
No.
It is from sets of circumstances constantly pushing me beyond the boundaries of red zones.
The only choice I seem to have at this point is how I am going to manage them.
“Count your fecking blessings, girl.”
More messaging streams in…
I am meeting other creatives
Unique and similar to me!
At what point does beauty become vanity; pure desire become obsession; and love turn into the need to control?
All I did was some light and brief lifting of small planter pots.
And over three days later, the resultant nerve pain has been flaring to hot and excruciating.
(Title play with words)
I was there while I could be.
And though it did not seem like enough, I gave support when needed.
I like that it sounds like what it is.
We must look for and keep searching for what calls to our own truths of spirit.
“How can you be so amazingly insightful – yet still be so bloody typical?!”
Rather than accept a substandard role playing counter to a promoted leading lady, I would rather divert my attentions toward promoting my own roles.
(Title quote from “Working Girl”)
Reviewing my life’s circumstances, trends, and calculating probabilities, I have until next summer to ensure something great happens.
The underlying reason I feel “unattractive” by societal standards is because media propagates avoiding representations of truth!
And my standard of being the most authentic, good versions of my self expression (at least when around others – lol) goes directly against this messaging!
No wonder I feel that I am all alone in the world amidst a sea of obscurity, and that I cannot trust others to value me!
Seeing another woman receive such generosity from a partner that they did not put in work for.
Some precious things ought not to be given away so easily due to “beauty” or “status” or “fantasy.”
Or “overcompensation.”
But “truth” is not always seen as attractive.
The complete trust that I extended,
The way I admired and appreciated him:
These are not things to be given again
Without the recipient being match-worthy.
It is hard to feel “good enough” when I have not already developed “industry proficiency.”
It doesn’t feel “substantial” to have raw talent, in whatever stage and form it may be.
How am I supposed to thoroughly detail a car with these injuries?
(Gnashing of teeth while considering)
Step by step, and over many days.
So frustrating!
The countdown for purging internal insanity.
“I am not a great beauty, I am Jane Eyre. And your love is all I need, Edward.”
I should have said it – straight forward – on the day of his accident.
I was too polite.
Too caring.
Too sensitive to the direness of his situation.
And it never stopped being dire – even with the lull of his drawn-out “waking coma.”
It wasn’t fair, really.
My being “set up” to be stuck on pause in that situation.
The elements had conspired against him, though my will’s love had been advocated for and a second chance granted.
In the end, “Loki’s” trickster ways won, anyway.
He’s a right brute-bastard, that one.
I’d like to sock him in the chops, sometime.
Or maybe mess with his own head by kissing him.
Too often, we do not express our deepest truths in life as we are living.
Candid Corvid Productions 