Adulting in Phases

We are broken and torn all of us like patched fabric threatening to tear and fall apart at the slightest of pulls we walk around elements hoping for a fix but often times ending up more damaged then when we went in. We aren't islands so we can't stand alone but we are too complex to be accepted and loved by all some will just never understand us. They see the flaws and fails and run, how can one ever feel safe enough to show their heart surrounded by sharks waiting for the first drop of blood. So we stop trying, we build walls and close ourselves off to the scrutiny of eyes that pry for their daily dose of entertainment at the expense of fragile hearts naïve enough to let them wander through unchecked.

Its not all gloom. For every stab of pain is one of the reals, the ones that stay in spite of the demons they see. The ones that love you deep and true with every layer they peel off. With every ugly bit exposed they hold on tighter and build bridges with you to your destiny. The little women that push you to be better and greater; the best men that teach you to see the good in everything; the childhood friends that remain true and constant through everything; the siblings you'd swear were parents and the friends so close they are family. 

Maturity I'm learning is seeing that there's always cracks but understanding that sometimes the cracks are rays of light like hope rescuing you from the comfort of mediocre bonds that do not build souls already depraved but instead push you further to your very own hell on earth. Sometimes we bleed to break free from the chains we have been bound to so long and it hurts as it should but there's the "squad" of truth waiting to take the walk back to peace and happy with you. That, that is more powerful than anything the mere numbers of humanity will ever do to you; love does after all cover a multitude of sin.

Thorns in the Flesh

Depression is different as you get older. Loneliness has an entirely different meaning, purpose and reason an entirely different more essential concept. When you are younger you imagine yourself being as old as you are now and you imagine you will have it figured out or the parts of it that really matter. Your heart; you should at 30 know where it belongs, to whom. But you don’t, and more than anything more than ever you want to belong. And purpose. It’s greed isn’t it? To have so much and not have anything- to feel that way. My younger self feared becoming the woman I am today, grew up surrounded by women like the woman I am today and I prayed I’d be different. The irony. And depression. So many days, weeks, sometimes months spent fighting it when it finally makes it way to the surface there is no pill strong enough, no bottle deep enough and certainly no amount of cake big enough to plug that hole.
Hope is depressing. To wake up everyday for the rest of your tomorrow just hoping you will get your hearts desire, hoping life will begin to making sense, hoping you will find your purpose and hoping and hoping and hoping to no end. Hope is depressing but more than that it is exhausting. The energy it takes to will yourself to believe in a better tomorrow that comes with no guarantee.
God is good and he is sovereign and all things work together for the good of all his children. The knowledge of this does not change how every morning the well of despair gets deeper and darker; the feelings remain and yes they are fleeting but lately they seem to have made a home in my chest right on top of my lungs pressing down and making it thy much harder to breathe.
It feels like a candle burning, starts off bright and strong as it is lit but slowly starts to melt away, it’s once tall defined shape crumbling to shapes undefined it holds on. Until it doesn’t, until it is useless. Days feel that way lately.
Sometimes- briefly- in the shortest interval there’s a glimmer of that all so exhausting hope. When life, the life you have you realize you would never have imagined, not even in your wildest dreams. Abundantly and above all you could ask, he gave. So comfort arrives in that moment, how much more will God give in this? When my wildest dreams have me imagining one who will love me but never having known that love how much more will it be when it is right in front of me? I have read and heard how it will or at least should look like how Christ loves his church but not even in my wildest dreams can that picture ever come close to what reality will hold. And there in those moments there is comfort.
They are fleeting though. For the resident pessimist reality comes crushing down fast reminding you of the saying, “if you want to make God laugh tell him your plans” because then you realize how your plans have not brought much to reality. So back to depression

x

I am His.

So often I fall short of his glory. Forget I was made for his glory. That I am a vessel forged for his glory.
He made me in his image. A woman he made me. And this too was in his image. To be a help mate he made me and this too was for his glory which I would do in his image as a woman.
He adorned me. With long hair, long lashes and long legs to serve his purpose. His will to do with my curves, my lips and my hips.
Deliberate was he in his creation there was nothing random about my differences. I would stand and fall in seasons of his choosing as all things worked together for good for this being that loved him so.
Fragile he made me. To be led he instructed. Like the loving father he is he gives the bride away only to one he has come to know and trust. He will not give his prized vessel to just anyone. He will give it to he who's heart belongs to him because in his heart he has placed his kind of love. A love patient and kind, love not jealous or self seeking, love protecting.
For his glory he made me in his image. He made me woman, to serve his purpose as his vessel. I am loved. I will be loved always.

Ms. C

Mirror to his thoughts

If its a question of my heart,....
But its more than that isn't it?
It's priorities and obligations.
Its society and expectations.
Fantasy and reality.
Love and lust....
Because if its a question of hearts and hearts alone in a place of honesty and throwing caution to the winds of vulnerability, If the question is does my heart beat a little faster, stronger and louder with you around then yes. Yes. Yes. The answer always will be.
But hearts and hearts alone are wrapped in feelings and feelings like beauty are fleeting and shaky and unstable. And I can not be so selfish as to string you along for hearts alone.
For more than hearts we are both good people but my conviction tells me we wouldn't be good people together, not for too long we would never pass the test of time. More so than that I fear we have spent our time together hiding our ugly behind masks of mirrored perfection we wouldn't know where to start to love when it hurts. And I don't know if I can trust you with my scars or trust you to stay after you see all of me.
But if its a question of my heart, you had me at hello.

Right Now

They say people are for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I don't have seasons or lifetimes but for reasons unknown you are my now. You may never understand this logic and truth be told neither do I half the time but in this moment, if this moment is a phase then I choose you. I have been choosing you for a while now and I might do so for forever,...... Until I learn how not to..... Until I don't.
While it lasts my prince, I will allow myself to be lost in the fantasy of you and i. No promises made, no assumptions or expectations you remain the biggest and brightest star in my part of the world. And as a drunk man tells no tales so you know that I may not know seasons but in this one, you are mine.

-MC-

Worth the wait

I long for the days of peace and content and absolute freedom to be all of myself with one who will stay no matter how bad the storm rages. I long to be silly and brave and vulnerable and bold, to be all of me without the fear of scaring him away with my hormonal tendencies of being hot and cold and sad and mad and crazy, all of it- all of me. Someday it would be nice to be uncensored and unmasked, graciously flawed for one who sees past all of my scars and all of my insecurities and doubts, for one who sees his truth when he looks at me. And in him I will find strength to heal and be made whole because he will seek God first and I will be unto him a helper and partner and together we will love like Christ loved the church with a love that’s kind and merciful and forgiving and graceful and forever being each other’s biggest fan. I swore I would submit to no man but to him I will give myself whole in my brokenness because there is no other way to be his queen than to let him be my king, to let him lead me and lead our family to the cross- to a higher calling than both of us. And he will deserve it because every day he will show me grace in his love and righteousness in his deeds and wisdom in his words, he will be Christ’s love made manifest and his will be the rib from which I was made. Together, together we will dance under the stars and be the best of lovers and friends and fight like siblings and be petty and swoony and silly and beautiful, because together we will be the perfect piece of art ever created; on a canvas that once lay plain and bare almost to the point of pain and regret two souls met to create the perfect masterpiece of beauty in an imperfect place.  And because anything less would be settling for less I wait. Because I will not submit to one who is not worthy I will wait and because forever is the longest time spent with the wrong one...I will wait.
BlackRose-

If i could, i would ask you.....

I see you as the world sees you most days bringing to mind words like; together, focused, happy, peaceful and sometimes even perfect. And suddenly I find myself empathetic towards Labrinth, thoughts like these must have been what inspired beneath your beautiful. You are like a piece of art; a beautiful piece of art that I can never really understand when all I want to do is break it down and strip it down to the very soul of it that I could be the artist myself.
Do you ever cry? Or have a moment of uncertainty? At any point do you ever not feel like you have it together? Its not to see you broken; its to see beneath your beautiful, to see a side to you that the world never sees. Otherwise I'm just a face in the crowd, just another name, a statistic.
Do you read? Or watch the kind of movies that make you cry? So many questions existing all of them summed up to just one; who are you when I'm not looking?

Clutter

Countless thoughts fill ones mind and like clutter there is need for decongestion except like most things its easier said than done. At the very root of it is only one but like a stem follows after to branch out it has with it all these leaves and flowers and seed still trying to decide whether to live or wither and die.
Madness, I'm now starting to believe must be self inflicted. Because its madness to let thoughts turn obsessive to the point of affecting the physical and everything else. For the resident pessimist its cruel and unusual punishment when all roads lead to doom and gloom. Never waiting for the happy ending you know too well will never come you punish yourself with short doses or happiness like shots of tequila that only serve to get you sick and regretful after.
I wonder though, is it possible to get through even half the load if all you have to lean on is your own understanding of things? Possibly but unless you are a one man band or some form of island that is far from possible. In any investment, money, health, insurance, lationships etc etc there's always the other side to look at before an informed decision is made. Otherwise its like running blind or buying a Cologne when you have a cold, its ambitious but not effective.
So your mind is never unclogged at this rate and that either leads you to running down the street, shutting it all down and moving on or growing indifferent. Indifference should be one of those admirable traits in a human, just because with all the raging hormones its one of the hardest things to accomplish. At some point even trying is painful because you may never figure it out. All you build is a case of assumptions and even the optimist will agree thats the mother of all that's wrong with society. That and television. A few lessons sooth the heart telling it that not all is a total failure; honesty- to self and others is freedom for the soul. Sometimes that's all that matters.

As i Live and Learn

Learning, not by any will of my own but rather by a turn of events all pointing to the same truth, that love- love is no feeling. Not like I ever thought it was. See for years and forever I convinced myself that if my heart didn't beat at an accelerated pace when I saw the object of my affection then it couldn't possibly be love. That if he didn't dress a certain way or understand my conflicting personality then I couldn't possibly love him. Oh how wrong I've been, so wrong it's sinful. Love is no feeling. Granted it comes with a tonne of them but that's like how an insurance policy comes with terms and conditions, the Ts and Cs are not what you pay for.
Love is a decision. Void of all of the novelty often associated with it. Deliberate and selfless and repeated every single day with every breathe, thought,  word and deed you choose to love. Its choosing, always, to be patient and kind and generous when all you really want to do is strangle the person. Love is putting aside your pride, allowing yourself to trust that this person whom you have given your heart to, who has the power to shatter it into a million pieces will instead have and hold it, protect it and love it back.
How does one fall into that? Is it possible to decide when we are taught its a leap and we are falling into it? There is no choice they tell us. Oh but there is. Eyes wide open you find your person and if you are lucky they find you back. But loving them is not quid pro quo, its not scratch my back and I yours, that's just a bonus. Love is selfless- I want you happy even if happy is without me- in its true form. We choose it.
Until we choose not to.

Frelationship Musings

If he picks up the phone to call me and tell me he loves me.....been thinking about that moment. Fantasizing really because its as far fetched as me going bungy jumping- lies. But if for whatever reason; mustard seed faith, amnesia, sudden realisation of my awesomeness or even being the last two people on earth he actually does say those three little words and as a bonus convinces me to go bungy jumping, what happens next? Not long term, not even an hour later when I'm replaying the moment for my support system but right there in that moment. The words have left his mouth spoken on his lips reaching my ear and sending the message to my brain making it a reality. My eyes would probably threaten to roll out of my head as I fight the rest of me to stay in one piece. Note that this would probably not be due to the excitement of finally getting my human/flesh version of a happy ending but more stuck in the middle of Justin Beibers' feelings and Alessia Caras' I'm yours, like "am I in love with you or am in love with the feeling?" While in the same breath; "how dare you march into my heart to break up my lonely and ruin my miserable?" See what happens after is the clarity that reality of my fantasy makes me sad and mad and happy but uncertain. I'll take and keep you however way I can have you so I'm convinced it must be the kind of love that might never be in movies but in that perfect book that someone once read sometime back and always looks back to never understanding why it wasnt made into a movie when it was so awesome (mine is Nora Roberts- Daring to Dream) but is it really? Or do I just like the feeling? And is it real or even reliable or are you just filling the void while I wait or should be waiting for my movie scene?
So now I'm sad because I'm thinking if all I've been doing is catching feelings coz they are flying by and you went and messed around got the real stone what happens now? Mind you I still want you even if its just to look at your face on a wall from time to time. This is the maddening part; because in more ways than one you are perfect with changing my mood and altering my rude BUT damnit what if all these is just a bad case of feelings overdose?
You know what, on second thoughts let's not say anything about anything of heart beat or pulse or sanity value. Too many questions existing

Blackrose musings - Misery Business

The mere mention of courtship in todays world stirs the kind of reaction that can be compared to when one speaks of unicorns or life outside Earth. Deciding that our own actions built on self gratification constitutes the standard of life and living we refuse to believe the possibility of anything contrary to. So obsessed with being in control we dare tp jump off cliffs to our own graves that stand like an open furnace just waiting to consume the veils of ignorance we masquerade as courage.
Which one of us i wonder, through the various dates and relationships can claim to have a heart thats still full and unscathed? Because its easy to count hurt by the tears shed in the moment and the lost weight and lost love but no, it would be a safe zone if that were as deep as we fell. For every failed attempt there is a ripple effect. No longer the trusting amd warm person you were now "all men are dogs" and "all women lie"and without trust every relationship after that is like being with a parole officer with the constant check-ups and check-ins that by now you have convinced yourself is the only way to love.
Having relied on our own understanding too long we convince ourselves that the mediocrity is as good as it gets. And if we happen to see a glimpse of what it could be like if we Proverbs 3-5'd we convince ourselves that we are the exception because your train is a one way ride to misery. There's no way anything even resembling purity and righteousness would come to us.
That's so many of us. Somewhere along the way we got comfortable getting burnt and convinced ourselves "if it doesnt hurt it isn't love". oh but shame on us, because the only man to ever suffer true pain for true love was Christ. So what we are is just plain old sinful creatures caught up in our own webs of misery.
But its love we say. Of course it is. We love each other so much that at the first chance we get we are building a highway to hell paved with all sortsof blingage from lust to adultery, fornication etc etc there is just no way we can lose,  if this isn't love right? Do they really love us if they don't burn with passion for us? After all we are not siblings we say.
Ladies and gentlemen, just because in a moment of weakness some man and woman out there decided it was okay to test drive every car in the show room before deciding on which was worthy of his cheque does not make it THE way. And here's food for thought, you as a man- test driving a hundred cars before you make your decision, woman- being driven by another hundred before one deems you worthy, by the time you find each other do you really belong to JUST each other????

Blackrose musings - INSANITY

I am NOW a firm believer, no one can hurt you even half as much as you hurt yourself. We are attracted to misery, anything that comes with a warning sign we run to. That's not a white people problem its a human people problem. I get it, the reward is much greater when one conquers the seemingly impossible as opposed to the mediocre. The fall twice as painful also so naturally one turns around to see who can be blamed. Good news is the answer is not that far out of reach, grab a mirror.
Accountability, responsibility etc not only are they big words but exemplary qualities for any human. Any that desires growth from a point of wisdom and maturity. Can't exactly grow up if you spend all your life pointing out the flaws and faults in others while you walk around with a log in your own eye that you aren't even aware of.
If you are like me then most of your hazard to self comes from a place of confusion masquerading as courage, discontent as boldness and mountains of hurt camouflaged as cold. Just cold.
Look in the mirror sometime, take a moment of self reflection. Granted at the core of our deepest hurts has been a man/woman too far gone in their self seeking ways that our feelings and emotions were to them a mere toy but in every dysfunctional equation i have found both sides of the coin bared some share of the blame.  Plus im pretty sure the phrase "takes two to tango" wasn't made famous JUST for the dance.
"How did i get here?" Sometimes thats all it takes. That one soul searching question. You can lie to the world if you want to but do yourself a favor and be true to yourself, if you can't then it might be all sorts of late for you and you are reading the wrong post. "But he/she...."NO. Just No. "Personal" responsibility, "self" esteem, sometimes it's all it comes down to. Dont get it twisted this isn't a lesson on selfishness rather one on self reflection. None of that "he/should have known better," always pointing out to see who takes the blame for all your mess.
Its true they hurt you, all of them but only as far and as deep as you let them.
Monsters do exist though and they have hurt some of the most helpless, most vulnerable in our society but we have seen and heard stories of how these men and women refused to let that define them- Oprah, Tyler Perry, Genetikz, the list is endless.
And then there is you and me, daily throwing ourselves in the pits of hell just for a brief moment of satisfaction, acceptance, triumph... and later have the audacity to cry foul because once again we got burnt. We go on rants on social media calling the male species dogs and the females whores and forget that the whole time we drove the car the check engine light was on so shouldn't be that shocking that the car eventually stopped.
Insanity they say is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. Not so sane then are we?

Shame don't live here

As a personal rule, i do not suffer shame. Not sure i would if i tried. Wait, let me explain;I refuse to suffer shame for the sake of shame. Even worse is shame for that which a mere mortal thinks i am guilty or ought to be guilty of. Lies.
But i do suffer.
Shame and guilt for the million ways i have sinned against a Holy God, my perfect father.
The knowledge of it should kill me except it frees me. I no longer fight to understand or control which is beyond me anyway. I just give it all away.
No longer obsessed with the opinions of men that refuse to show to others the grace that is showed to them daily of mercy and love and kindness and protection and provision. Lies.
Now when i struggle its to be worthy of he who is love.
So no, i do not suffer shame. If he who is perfect counted me worthy, well thats all the validation i will ever need.

Why Im not a Liverpool fan....

The purpose of isolation.
Being alone with ones thoughts often brings about some clarity. Or insanity depending on ones state of mind,  state of affairs.
And being surrounded too deep is based on the assumption that someone actually cares long and hard enough to pay attention and listen, understand even, maybe even empathize.
Assumptions are the mother of all thats wrong with the human race. Your mind churns up ideas and expectations and fantasies and foolishly mirrors it onto reality. Insanity. The hurt and disappointment when reality sets and bares the fangs of inadequacy. Why do we even bother?
Humanity is built on the the structure of interdependence and support systems, why people pay millions to have someone listen. Personally I say read a book, scream out loud, cry if u have to, pray endlessly and mindlessly without ceasing- thats the only set of ears that ACTUALLY cares enough to listen faithfully and gracefully. Everyone else is a sad state of affairs just waiting to happen.
Back to isolation, why? Thats easy, away from the hypocrisy of human interaction and the disappointment of unfulfilled promises one finds peace. I do anyway. So many people asking how you are and no one wanting to hear anything past you being okay. Saves time when it leads to nowhere. How elso do you explain telling a person you are drowning and they reply with "ok" or the unfortunate classic "lol". Its shameful is what it is. But humans wouldn't be humans without elements of need and greed all intertwined into a deep set of emotional baggage just threatening to spill over. The need gets so strong it starts to produce a stench so strong no one is trying to be around you. The greed also, no, nobody trying to be on that train wreck.
When you dig deep, if ever, does anyone really know you? Past that which you allow them to know. Past the walls you've put up. See i find most people are okay with the superficial. I don't mean makeup or weaves, well that too but thats for another day. All day indulging in conversation with this person and that person, boy and girl, lovers and friends (im talking hours and hours of your life you have no chance of ever getting back), you should know these people by now and they should know you yes? But really, does anyone really know anyone? Im starting to sound sad and even angry, im not. I have the curse of being so cold and distant ive often being referred to as being robotic, sometimes even a drone. Thats not praise,  thats recognition of a problem and now I can work on it. I may not be a fan but I am human with a need to co-exist with others. And genetically, I need it to make it past 30.

Thoughts

I failed again last night. Fell into the pits of death and darkness in sin. I knew the moment it happened, knew it was over for me. The light of hope extinguished, the spirit of peace vacated the temple leaving behind only a pile of clay. In the absence of light darkness has crept in and made itself a home in my bones. I wanted to cry, infact after a while for a while its all i could do. I couldn't pray, still can't, in my sin i pieced together the veil of the temple that was torn when Christ died separating myself from his gift of salvation, hiding myself in the garden of eden when God came calling i ate the forbidden fruit.
There is no mercy for me this time because this time i went in knowingly with eyes wide open i took the leap straight down into my personal pit of hell.
The guilt weighs heavy on my chest like a 30tonne truck going nowhere fast choking me up with shame and self loathing.
My help, my circle, the ears at my disposal are "holy" ears that will not understand or forgive my fall from grace when all our interactions are laced with scripture and righteous presentation all of it designed to keep from going down this path. The church, it is only home when you are faking the straight and keeping all else hidden so i could fit right in except my walk was never about seeking comfort in religion but in Christ. The struggle is real.
Like butchers leading sheep to the slaughter you skipped the gospel in your teachings and sermons. All of you in your suits and ties talking about your perfect lives purposefully omitting Romans 3:23 on how we all fall short. Never once teaching confession or repentance like David in Psalm 51 you just want to tell me how God will make my money long. Why aren't you telling people who's hope is gone about his mercies that are made new every day? Traded the truth of the gospel for loud crowds and television slots and having just one more twitter follower is now worth more than a mans soul. Weren't you told to be fishers of the very man you tossing into a sea of despair? And here i was thinking Christ came for the ratchet. Like me.

Petals on the bed that is my Grave

A toast to us.

In our hands champagne glasses, this is after all a celebration.

Keeping eye contact, both anxiously excited about what the rest of the night holds we take the first sip.

The smell of the crimson coloured liquid, a metallic ting, like raw iron and earth. It tastes the way it smells with faint sweetness I wasn't expecting.

Its perfect. I finally understand why vampires are unapologetic. 

He's ordering for me; our starter is "brain", human is best I am told. Its been smoked with mind numbing gas. Goes perfect with the "blood" in our glasses. The main course is the chefs signature dish, spiked "heart" laced with feelings and seasoned with a hint of emotion and my favourite dessert, "souls" baked at low heat and glazed with caramel sauce, served on a plate of illusion. It couldn't be more perfect if Cinderellas' godmother planned it herself.

Fast forward into the night, high on blood, I mean wine. Full on hearty chunks of premium human flesh and organ we are home. His home. I've been here before but tonight is special. We have waited a long time for this, 31 days to be exact. I have lingerie on, got it for this occasion, blades disguised as pieces of silk and lace woven to look like a layer of skin. I have never looked more dangerous-ly desirable. He's looking at me, peels his eyes away for a second to look at the box of condoms beside the bed, or was that a shovel? 

He reaches out to touch me and pierces a large hole in my shoulder, Edward Scissor-hands? His other hand reaches out to stroke my hair and the axe he holds pierces a hole at the base of my skull. With every touch I bleed but I cant think, left my mind on the dinner table and the rest of it still trying to find its way inside of me. The chef lied when he said the illusion wasn't potent because I still believe I am living a fairytale. My skin drenched with liquid that cannot be blood because I had that with my dinner, I reach out to return his touch. Draped in blades I slice him on impact. We are at war. Killing each other with every touch, tearing flesh and breaking each other limb by limb. Its okay though, this is why "soul" remains my favourite dessert. But wait, before we take each others breathe away, let take the shovel beside the bed and dig our graves. 

PS. this is us today. Satisfying our carnal mind at the expense of our souls.

The Black in the Rose

I recently came across an article comparing the womb of a woman to the holy of holies in scripture.
Brief history lesson;Holy of Holies was the innermost and most sacred area of the ancient tabernacle of Moses and temple of Jerusalem. The Holy of Holies was constructed as a perfect cube. It contained only the Ark of the Covenant, the symbol of Israel’s special relationship with God. The Holy of Holies was accessible only to the Israelite high priest. Once a year, on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the high priest was permitted to enter the small, windowless enclosure to burn incense and sprinkle the blood of a sacrificial animal on the mercy seat of the Ark. By doing so, the high priest atoned for his own sins and those of the people.
The comparison;" Just as no one other than the High Priest could enter the Holy of Holies and live, so the so- called “priest” in marriage is the only one blessed to enter a woman’s womb.  If any other man trespasses, it means partial death to his soul and often his body, too."
I could sit here and ask "why didn't anyone tell me this before?" But that would be hypocrisy because truth is i probably heard it a thousand different ways i just didn't stop to listen. Wouldn't if you paid me.
Truth is, (and try not to judge or do, whatever works really) i couldn't be bothered! Couldn't understand what the fuss was about, in fact i hated the fuss. The men, all of them hounding you like dogs on heat just watching and waiting for you to slip. How they'd trip all over themselves trying to come up with the most tired lines just to get the "precious".
Now before you start thinking i hated the fuss so i ignored it and shut it down let me stop you right there, no, it was such a pain i decided to get it over and done with. So i went with the next guy that came along. Easy on the eyes, kissable lips- thats all that mattered, mind so slow i could fool him into believing it was his idea but a player so we could both walk away with just a handshake. (Ps. Do i sound like a man right now? I feel like I do, anyway....) 
Fast forward, lots of alcohol later we are in his room and the guy wants to start talking (a big shout out to brewers around the world) so this has to be over fast. And it is. Painful and messy and uncomfortable and just plain horrid. And im more confused than ever because really? Really? Really? And he asking if i want to go again? No i am not that far gone into the business of misery. Worst minute of my female existance (no hard feelings If you happen to read this, it is my hope that you have gotten better with time) but on the bright side i did walk away with a handshake. On the not so bright side to this day there's nothing that makes me walk away faster and easier than a bad sexual experience.  Maybe we are all damaged.
Years later; the article or the holy of holies, heartbreak and pain, new lessons and knowledge of love and living all under my belt. Knowing life as i know it now, i simply cannot believe anyone who says they have no regrets. Given the opportunity to do it all over again, bet we'd all be standing at different doors. Id like to think so anyway, but then i find im sometimes in denial about how hazardous humans are to themselves.

Closed Book

I've come to appreciate the need to talk it out. When it feels like all is coming down on you keeping it all in is like a time bomb waiting to happen. Talking, feels like exhaling even if you don't get a solution. Just letting it out is like breathing it out. With the right set of ears its all you need, to bring clarity and most days even the much needed sense of serenity.
For some reason ive never had that kind of luxury. I don't know why but for some reason i can never find a listening ear when i need it the most. Sure there's always people around but never the right ones, not when it counts.
And I hear it often, how i should let them in, express myself, kinda hard when they fall off the grid. Its hardly their fault, how will they know when its time? Not like they are psychic.
So i do what i do best, i bury it, deep in my soul and let it rip me apart. I let it tear through me, feel as it gets my blood boiling, errupting my vessels till its organ failure. Till its a miracle I'm still breathing. And when it feels like im drawing in my last breath, when im sure my last words will be my last, then the pipes burst open and its all i can do for what seems like forever. I cry. For the longest time, shaking and screaming but no sound comes out. This must be what death feels like, screaming out from the depth of the darkness that surrounds you but no one can hear you. Reaching out for anyone to pull you back but no one ever does. Its the last straw because when its done i don't know if I'll ever move from here.

Heavy Love

They say love is a beautiful thing.
That the greatest love of all is loving yourself.
To forgive and be forgiven a sign of great character they say.
These people, whoever they are, they talk too much. Telling us everything without really telling us anything.
They skip the part where a broken heart bleeds too hard to love. That sometimes the anger and hatred and the bitterness is what keeps the heart from dying altogether. They don't seem to understand that seeking forgiveness means having to take responsibility when all one wants to be is a victim.
So what kind of love is this that only serves to hurt, to manipulate, to curve a hole from the depth of your soul and rip your heart to shreds? Is this what we queuing up for? The chance to be "loved" with Ts and Cs? From tedious ones like explaining and keeping tabs on your "bae" to the costly ones like riding on the highway to hell in our varying vehicles of fornication, adultery, lust and all manner of personalised perversion. Cant even hear your persons phone ring without grabbing your insecurity blanket. Cant socialise without risking a heart attack everytime smiles are handed out and none in your direction.
If this is love then I'll pass. I can destroy myself all by myself.
"Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self seeking, it is not easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perserveres. Love never fails." 1 Corinthians 13 : 4-8
Now this, this is Love.
My kind of Love anyway.
"Johnny met Donna and they fell in love but had no idea what love really was."
We all victims of the situation. Idolosing so badly the idea of love we settle for its evil twin- lust and their cousin infatuation. (Oh how we love to be complicated!l) All the while not knowing what it is, this things we yearn for.
Love is what happened on the cross, when the one who IS Love gave his son as ransom for our transgressions. Love is a promise, to have and to hold in good times and in bad till death parts us. It is that which reminds us of Genesis 2:18- it is not good for man to be alone. But most importantly; God IS Love.
Johnny and Donna had no idea what love was because Johnny and Donna had no idea who God IS. You can't claim knowledge of one without the other, and to expect it from one who doesn't know the who IS, is in the words of Da ' Truth; like taking anger management classes from Bruce Banner. Like asking Renee Zellweger to bring back Bridget Jones' face.

Perfect Imperfections.

Perfection.
Different strokes for different folks.
The perfect shade of lipstick, perfect dress, perfect shoes, perfect job, car, clothes, date, the perfect man etc
For one girl the perfect pair of shoes are her converse which another girl feels belong on boys and should only ever be found on female feet when one pretends to work out.
Perfect job, the dream job, different strokes for different folks. For some all things are a science and if they could spend their entire lives learning and growing and discovering the fascinating and mesmerising world that is Science, they would never know a moment unfulfilled while others, just want to rule! Politics.
Personally im a lip gloss kind of girl. Makeup too messy and i cant be bothered to remember to not touch my white blouse after ive touched my smeared face. That's just me. But there's the girl who wouldn't be caught dead without her bag of....well faces. Cat eye, dark eye and whatever else is out there.
The perfect man, then it gets interesting. The checklists going around are enough to send any sane and noble man running. He should be tall and handsome and have a good job and intelligent and strong and protective without being possessive. A little jealous but not insecure ("because jealousy is how you know they care", she said rolling her eyes), charismatic but not a flirt, fun but not the life of the party. He should be God fearing but not a prude, family guy but not too close to his mother (too much pressure), ambitious and driven but still able to make me the centre of his world..... and it goes on and on and on. Like i said, even the most noble of them all is sent running after this. And they must have their own lists these men; cooks like my mama, nurturing, caring, hot, legs as long as a train but modest enough that only i get to see them. Lady in the street, freak in the bed...and we wonder why JLo having a hard year. There's just no winning!
You can't be yourself because half the time you have this deep rooted fear that yourself isn't good enough or strong enough or sexy enough. So you settle for a string of 20s to give u the feeling of a 100 partner talking about all man are the same!
U? Miss i have so many alternatives i can't settle on one because he flawed too deep? You can't even see the guy trying to love you unconditionally because you too busy being some no good mans woman between 8-10pm. And you want to cry out to God to send you a man? Why should he when you can do bad all by yourself? So far gone conforming to the norms of this world you cant see how you killing yourself. Everyday eating away at your own flesh and drinking your own blood you dont see the ghost of a man you have become. And you still wondering why no one stays? the living and the dead can't live under the same roof. Ask Emily Rose.
-Black Rose-