Month: June 2013

  • To Get Her, Together [Final Edit]

      

    My therapist told me that people are not objects or accessories.  Of course they are not.  I never  said that they were.  People are people; but that does not mean they matter or that I should care about them. Why should I? And that bit about not being able to think my way out of an open box if there was no personal gain was to be had, was that supposed to push me into movement, when I didn't see where any action needed to be taken? It's not laziness.  I see no need to fix what isn't broken.  I'm not broken, and I never will be.

    My world was the only world that mattered, and I was the star.  Those other people could play minor roles, if I let them.  Where is the problem?  Everyone thinks this, they just don't admit it out loud or even to themselves.  I wasn't everyone.  I was just me, and as long as there was no disequilibrium in my world, there was no need for me to acknowledge others.  It is only when I become disturbed that I take notice, and there was always hell to pay for those that disturbed me.  And I ask myself, what made him different? I knew when I saw him that he was different, and I wanted him to stay. Maybe his sonic boom rocked my world, but I was only stirred, not shaken. I pretended to ignore him, but I could feel myself being drawn into his world.  He was Magneto and I loved him, silly thought, I loved him. I wanted him to stay and paint my silver world with his colors.

    "You have cute ears." he said.

    I cover my ears, my face was burning.  That had never happened before.  I felt flattered.  Had I known I was going to feel flattered, I would have made more effort.  I had known myself since the dawn of time, and I had never noticed my ears before.  No one had ever spoke of them before.  Plenty had spoke of my ass,  my breasts, the sound of my voice, or the fact that I was a wretched, heartless bitch who they wrapped around their heart and soul until there were no lines between possession, possessor, and the possessed.

    "They are pointy like an elf or a Vulcan.  I can't decide."  He thinks a minute.  "You are a Vulcan.  At least one-quarter Vulcan." 

    I remove my hands from my ears. "Just so you know. I am not Van Gogh." I didn't smile. "I'll never cut one off to give it to you."  But I would give him heart to allow him to show me just how foolish it sounds when it sings loudly enough for others to hear.

    He smiles, "We'll see about that." he said sitting at my table uninvited. 

    I thought he probably smiled at all the girls, but he didn't.  Smiles were for the others that happened to live in our world, but I didn't know that yet.  So I gave him a sort of smile to let him know that I wouldn't kill him if he sat down next to me.  I was now an us, before I even knew what happened.  I had never thought I would be an us, before him, it was always me and mine.  I m not even sure I understood what the word us meant before there was a him.  Without even knowing it I picked up his heart, and breathed in his spirit.  I didn't even know he had offered them to me.  He would capture all of me, and the body parts I refused to sever myself, he would take them from me and do with them as he pleased.  I would never be the same, but neither would he.  I wanted him to stay and so I poisoned him with my love.  I allowed myself to captivated in his magnetic force field.

    Us, We were everything.  Together, we were volatile, but we paid no attention to the fact that two universes could never exist in the same space; one would inevitably be destroyed.  Neither of us would relinquish control, so we armed ourselves with Death Stars knowing neither of us would breathe a single breath without the other.  He painted for me, a beautiful life,  and my words quieted the chaos and hell that fueled him.  The world was wonderful when we were together.

    We were cruel, but we were love.  He was mine to break, and I was his. When one was resonating close their shatterpoint, the other was the holy spirit.  I would do anything for him, and he said, he would do anything for my love.  He only wanted me to love him, even if it meant crushing my mind and my body to get it.

    We, were an us, and we existed in the world that was ours undisturbed,  until there was them.  Who were the them that were special enough to grab the attention of those the were the universe?  They needed to be broken for no other reason except we could and they took up space in the world that they didn't deserve.   It was because I hated her.  I told him I hated her, he only wanted to see me happy.  Her him was only guilty by association.  It was only her that I hated.

    So we filled them with gas and lit them on fire, and enjoyed chaotic light show. while we could.  When we broke them, we left them mindfucked and bloody.  As we discovered, we could work together to get her.  I was the one with the power to crawl under your skin, and rule your mind.  I was, as he said, part Vulcan.  And he had a thirst for blood, and I was tired of paying with my own.  This was honestly enough for me, but I guess he had other plans.

    One day he said to me, "let's go hunting, darling." 

    He took my hand gently, as if it would make  me want to go with him.  Hunting, I hated, though I didn't have I didn't have a choice.  With him, the lines were clear.  I was a possession and he was possessed.  I was his bad voo-doo doll.  To kill me, would destroy him.

    "Why?" I asked.

    "Because I love you." he said.   Giving me puppy dog eyes that almost worked on me but not quite.  They only made me want to kiss him, not give him what he wanted

    I loved him, but I never told him as often as he told me because I would make him beg for it.  When he thought that I didn't love him, it made me feel like God, and not just his goddess.  His prayers for my love let me know that ultimately, it was me who was in control.  Everything he did was all for my love, and I would do anything to keep him for myself.

    I let him take me hunting, and when I discovered our prey, I knew how much he loved me.  The only thing I ever felt truly deserving of death.  She was a pathetic trembling mess, of sweat, tears, and fear.  This was better than any deer, or bird, or animal.  She was hated.  I could hardly contain my smile or the tears.  I always swore that I would never act like a girl and cry because I am so overcome with joy because of a man's love. I should have known by his smile that he was up to something, but sometimes his smile always lied.

    He pulled me closer and said, "I told you, I love you."  His heart pounding in my ear.  "Consider this our wedding day."  He placed the bloody knife in my hands.  I thought and this must be my engagement ring.  With this secret, we could never leave the other.  She was a sacrifice to our love.  They both were.

    I never thought I would feel honored by the love of another, but I did.  He turned me toward her, and there was a smile that he put on my face, because we were love.  Because when our worlds collided, it wasn't the end, but the glorious beginning of us.

    I don't think I ever thought about killing anyone before because no one mattered.  Honor, amazed, and pink.  This memory, will always be pink.  I didn't think about a lot of things before he existed because there was only silver, and he was and explosion of color. I hated her, but she didn't matter.  Her eyes were wet, so I supposed she was scared or sad or some other thing.  Her color didn't matter to me. Or maybe I was scared, or sad, or some other thing. The world of feelings confused me.  I looked back at him, this was our hunt, and I didn't have a choice.  I started to tell him that I loved him, but her voice broke the spell.

    "You don't have to do this." She said. "Please."  I could hear her voice shake every time it got stuck in her throat.  I think I heard a little bit of hope in it, too. Unless her hope was to die quickly, then she should have felt hopeless.

    Her voice was all I needed to be sure, I wanted to accept his wedding vows.  She didn't matter.  He was right.  If she didn't matter, she didn't deserve the space I gave her in my head.   He should be the only thing that matters to me.   He should be the only thing that I feel.   He had tried to tell me before, but I guess he had to show me.

    I knelt beside her and press the knife against her lips.    "Shhh." I said. "but I do."  Her eyes were wet.  I thought for sure she was the one that felt afraid and defeated.  I felt nothing. It was silver. She would soon feel dead.  I wanted to be able to ask her how it felt to be dead, but I didn't think she would respond.  Killing her was the same as killing an animal, except I could understand her protests.  I would have been disappointed by the lack of specialness if it weren't for him and his love and his smile reminding me of the color pink.

    And we knew they would soon come for us, but none of that mattered. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me to my feet to face him. "and this is our honeymoon." he whispered "Just like I promised."  Not even death could do us apart.  We would live on forever, in stories, and legends as gods.  They would speak of our love and blood lust  in whispers as if shouting our names would awaken our dead hearts, and still the life from theirs.



    You used to captivate me by your resonating light
    Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
    Your face – it haunts my once pleasant dreams
    Your voice – it chased away all the sanity in me

    These wounds won't seem to heal
    This pain is just too real
    There's just too much that time cannot erase

  • How to Say Good-Bye [Timestamp: 1 Edit: 1]

    (blogspot link has been added)
    In my mind, I imagine myself typing so much more than this, but I can't find the words.  I always thought this place would be here.  I imagined myself with a teenaged John and posting pictures of his graduation and prom.  I am not the kind of person that normally imagines what the future is going to be like.  I didn't imagine my wedding day as a child.  I never imagined what my children were going to be like.  I did imagine Xanga always being a part of my life. I would like to be able to thank each of you personally, but honestly I can't because it doesn't seem right to just say the one sentence my mind will allow my to type.  So what I will do is post tid-bits from posts from the past.

    I came here at a very confusing time in my life.  Memories that I had suppressed resurfaced, and it felt like my whole entire life was a lie.  I used to be one of those people that would watch talk shows and laugh at people with suppressed memories.  Then it happened to me.  Now that a second round of memories resurfaced and I know a little more about PTSD, I know that the memories are never really forgotten.  They are stored as random and disconnected pictures that flash in your mind, but you ignore them because they make no sense or it's just of some random person you used to know, but I digress.

    I came here in the olden days of the Pro-Anorexia movement.  At first, I didn't post here much because I spent more time on message boards and in chat rooms.  Most of the time I was at Bluedragonfly (BDF) or The Thin Forum (Thin(k) Pages). So here are some flashbacks"


    They say when you die, your life flashes before you.  Every good thing and every bad thing.  You see every second that you have lived.  I don't know if that is true or not.  I also do not care.  I know some people are afraid to see their lives.  Some people are afraid to relive it, but I am not.  I want to relive my life.  I want to know that it was real.  I want to know that it really happened and that it isn't something my mind made up.  I know that it FEELS real, but some how it doesn't.  I feel like I have been shattered into pieces and each piece is a different life.  None of them are the right life.  I regret so much that I did not tell anyone because I can't ask anyone that's in my life now if it is real.  I know that either way, I'd die happy.  I'd die happy to know that I am not crazy and I really was raped.  I'd die happy knowing that I was crazy because only people on movies have suppressed memories.  I want proof either way.  I wish that someone who knows would tell me that it really happened.  I know that the rape really did happen, but I want proof.  I want my memories to feel like memories and I want to remember it all.  I want to be able to direct my hate at someone else besides myself.  Screw Karma to Hell.  It's not like I wasn't a horrible person in a past life to be so fucked in this one.  If I could hate the right person and take it out on them every day of my life, all the hatred in the world could come down on me and I'd be the happiest woman alive.........I've tried letting the anger go but I can't.  Even if it meant being shallow and sheltered, I'd rather have my old life back.  If I can't have my old life back, nothing would please me more than to make the guilty suffer.....

    I suppose I should add wrath to my list of sins...

    Posted 10/10/2005 at 7:16 PM

    Thank you for letting me know that I am not alone.  Thank you for being there for me as I went from being shocked, to accepting, and finally healing from the abuse that I was referring to in this passage.  Thank you for being there for me when even more memories surfaced last summer.  Thank you for being there as I came to a resolution that works for me.  Thank you for baring with me as I worked through the other abuse that happened in my life.  Even though toward the end, I stopped sharing my thoughts with you all, I knew you would have been there if I had shared.  I struggled with accepting the part I played in allowing the abuse to happen (I'm not saying that I was at fault, but I did play a giant part in putting myself in dangerous and stupid situations)

    wow you wear my 6 year olds daughters size....
    Posted 6/29/2006 at 8:1 PM by b1aluciana

    Do you think that if I went to the ER and told them that I swallowed a bunch of pills, that they would pump my stomach to remove the potato chips?

    I won't die from 1000+ calories?  Should I go to the ER and tell them I took a Xanax, clonapin, percoset, flexeril, tylenol, diet pill, and aspirin cocktail so I can pump the potato chips out of my stomach?  Would they just ship me to Bryce Hospital or that other one?  Would they want to do that before or after they discover I didn't take the pills and all they see are partially digested potato chips?

    I should look for stomach pumps on Ebay.  Could I use a vacuum?  I could sterilize the parts.

    hmmm, the ED voices haven't called me fat lately.........

    Posted 6/27/2006 at 1:44 AM

    .  

    I was dying and I honestly wanted it.  I don't think the emophoto I posted was even me at my thinnest.  She the comment above.  I really was the size of a 6 year old child.  I could wear my nephew's clothes and he was my son's age at the time.  Whenever I start to think I want to give in to my eating disordered thoughts.  I read those entries.  I read the responses I received from people that were encouraging my behavior and I think why would I want to be that way again.  So in a way, thank you for encouragement.  I hope all of you are doing well.  For those of you who didn't encourage me to stay sick, I am glad you remained my friend even when I stopped being a total train wreck.  Now, I am just derailed.

    Thank you for being there to support me when my dad had cancer.  I'm glad you were there.

    Not all of my memories from long ago were bad.  This is just me being sick and twisted.  My old neighbors were creepers and not the Lovelyish meaning of creeper either.  Read the quote below and keep in mind, one of these guy attempted to murder his girlfriend.  They were evicted (dry, cynical, gallows, please laugh).  My life should be a dark comedy I swear, it would be awesome.

    Last night, early this morning, these drunk assholes scared the shit out of me.

    I couldn't sleep so I stayed out working on one of my stories.  My brain was dead so I didn't feel like working on my dissertation or anything really productive.  I finally became sleepy around 3:00 am.  I fell asleep on the couch.  They woke me up by breaking a beer bottle against the wall.  Then they kept knocking on the sliding glass door as if I was going to actually get up and let them in or answer it.

    All kinds of crazy thoughts kept running through my head.  What the hell did they want?  I wanted to call Jim at work.  I thought maybe I should call the cops, but I didn't want to talk to them.  I was afraid of what would happen, so I just hid under the covers until I couldn't hear them talking outside their apartment anymore.  These people are new.  All of our other neighbors, especially the ones that have been there forever, are wonderful.  Our block of the complex is very quiet.  I never think about closing the shades.  I don't think about walking around in my underwear and a tank top.  I like the sun light during the day and I just never think about shutting the shades at night.  Why the hell did they put these losers on our block?  They could have put them with the other idiotic undergrads that live in the complex.  There used to be nothing but grad students, more serious upperclassmen, and, families.  When I told Jim he was pissed.  He is going to report it.  I don't want to make a big deal out of it, but I am sure my other neighbors complained as well.  They were being pretty damned loud.  I just hate it when I don't feel safe in my own home.  I Hope it doesn't happen again.  I don't want to become obsessed about locking my doors and corning myself into one room at night.  I don't want to be too afraid to even get up and go to the bathroom because somebody might have broken in and they are waiting to rape me and kill me.

    Posted 6/25/2006 at 11:15 AM

    Thank you for supporting me through my pregnancy.  I needed it.  It was hard.  I don't have much to say about this other than it was when I decided I needed to be a better person, and it represented a big change in my life.  After I had my son, I took a Xanga break.  I appreciate all of you that were there before and after.

    I was right.  I am pregnant.

    I am scared.

    I cried for an hour already.

    What self-obessed person can tell they are pregnat at 6-8 weeks by looking at thier belly?

    I am not going to like seeing a nutritionist.  I am not going to like not working out.  I am not going to like this at all.

    I want to be happy, but I am just scared.  I don't want to fuck this up.


    Posted Wednesday, 17 January 2007

    When I returned, I considered deleting this Xanga and starting a new one.  I thought it would be symbolic of starting over again.  I thought about it and decided that you don't get to start your life over and you have to take the good with the bad.  The only thing I regret is that I deleted my posts that were extremely eating disordered. It would have made the story about me more complete.  When I was eating disordered, I always complained that people who wrote books on how they let go of their eating disorder made it seem like a magical transformation, and then I go an do the same thing.  Oh, well.

    I also started to enjoy talking to people who weren't members of the eating disordered world, and that was an amazing thing.  I have a feeling that there are a few of you that I have recently found here, that I will never hear from again.  Whether I found your site informative, interesting, funny, or annoying I am glad I was able to know you for a short while.

    I think I have said enough about how much you have helped me.  I hope that I was there for you when you needed it.  I hope that I provided the same level of support that you provided me with.  I have to admit that I did enjoy helping you through your hard times and I hope that we don't disappear from each others lives.  I hope I am only saying good bye to this place, this site, which used to be where I poured my heart and soul.

    There are so many other stories I haven't told and I feel I won't have a chance to tell them.  Some of them are funny, some of them are painful.  I can't post them anywhere else because I don't feel safe. Even the funny ones.  In my mind the other places are too public,  and the people I am talking about will recognize themselves.  Even if I am not Friends with them, we have Friends in common because it is a small world. 

    I will be timestamping the hell out of this post.  I am not leaving just yet, I will be here until the end.  After that, I will be at WordPress and on Facebook.  I may open blogs on the other sites, but I won't post there.

    http://feignedaffections.tumblr.com
    http://erikamsteele.wordpress.com/
    http://www.writerscafe.org/FeignedAffection
    https://www.facebook.com/erika.steele.98
    http://feignedaffections.blogspot.com/