nature's law.

Wow. I haven't been on here since November. Crazy.

Been listening to my dad's music lately. I can't believe how relevant his words are to me today, yet he wrote them over fifteen years ago.

One stanza in particular really got me...way too hard. Always does.

"I sat on the porch and looked away - I saw the beauty of a summer’s day.
I watch the flight of the birds on high - as they chased a crow alone through the sky.
All of a sudden I knew that crow - it was me with wings and nowhere to go.
I tried to scare those birds away - but it was nature’s law for the crow that day."
~Sam Harman from his song "Unforgiven"

I feel like that crow now. I can sit and see all the beauty that surrounds me. My friend, Jeffery's amazing smile, when he allows the world to see it. My nieces and nephews' adorable laughter. My best friend's voice on the phone after a long absense from each others lives. My fiance whispering "I love you" into my hair. My father picking up his guitar after fearing it for several years.

Yes, I can see this beauty. And then...I can't help but to feel like a defenseless thing...being chased out of her home, her land, her very skin. And have to wonder, is this how things are to be? Is this nature's law? Is this "God"'s Great Will? Am I meant to shut myself up in my own twisted mind and suffer the happenings of an eternal night? Alright, enough with the rhetorical questions. But these are the things that I'm left to ponder.

Today Jeffery said "How are you?". Then he just HAD to ask, "HOW ARE YOU REALLY?"

Oh. You wanted the truth. Okay.

• At times I want to drink and see if the answers really are at the bottom of a bottle.
• I constantly want to cut, and there's even razorblades nearby. But I'm forcing myself to fight my old urges because...well, call me crazy, but I kind of like that all my scars are fading. And I don't want more to hide with pain and shame. Because I'm not so sure that, after six years of hiding my S.I. scars, that I would actually keep hiding them. The only reason people don't like S.I. scars is because it makes non-S.I.'ers more than slightly uncomfortable. And I'm really at the point that I think people should be aware. That's why I don't hide the fact that I am a recovering cutter. People should just accept the truth of the matter: I hurt myself.
• My relationship pisses me off a lot, but I think it's mostly my fault.
• I feel alone in everything I do. Probably also my own fault.
• I feel as if I'll never be given the chance to raise a child of my own.
• I'm sick of being sick. Physically, emotionally, mentally.
• I fear a lot of things...including fear itself.

That's a good start on how I'm really doing.
I don't want to be around anymore but my wings won't take me anywhere.

I just pray those other crows won't realize just how wounded I am.

*self-pitying rant over.*

he wrote her some poetry.

plan for a masterpiece.

I'm going to find a little room somewhere and lock myself away and I'm going to paint.
I'm going to paint a masterpiece.
It'll be so beautiful, that when you gaze upon its beauty, you'll think it ugly, because your eyes and your mind cannot comprehend something so amazingly beautiful as the masterpiece I have created before you.
It will be of a subject matter that you cannot understand, something so out of this world, and this realm, that the gods themselves will ponder its meaning.
And I will be so very proud of it because it will be the first beautiful thing to ever come from me. (Other than offspring.)
And I will feel so relieved and changed because finally, everything that has been stuffed inside me all these years, is out and staring me straight in my soul.

That's what I'm going to do.
Because I am in desperate need of a major soul release.
Because I can't live anymore like this.

I can't live trapped inside myself.

to the one that got away...

I hope that someday you and I will be able to sit down over sunset and coffee and discuss where all the years have gone.

You'll tell me the truth. You'll tell me how you really got the scars and how you really got to where you are now. I know you will. Because you used to be honest with me. I just lost you somewhere along the way. But it's alright, because you're my friend, and I'm yours. And I don't care about how many damned years have gotten between. I'm still you and you're still me. (I meant to say that you're still you and I'm still me, but I think that could have been a very appropriate Freudian slip.)

You'll ask me what's really happened over all these years and I'll tell you about my mom and my step-mom. I'll tell you about school and my writing. I'll tell you about falling into, and then out of church and my entire Christian soul as I knew it. I'll tell you about my dad and how I've had to help him and take care of him but it's okay because he's my friend and my daddy. I'll tell you the truth, the real truth, about how I got too deep into a lifestyle that I now hate myself for…even though, at times, I genuinely miss my mistakes. I'll tell you about how I spent all those years searching for something, and in the back of my mind and the depth of my heart, I always knew I was searching for you. And I felt…almost ashamed if I dare admit that I was only with who I was with because they seemed to hold your place.

And look where we're at now… you're leading your life and I'm leading mine.
And I talk to you now and again… when the moon is full and bright and illuminates my childlike fright.
And in those times, I am reminded of why I love you and why we'll never happen.
And in those times, I let you go again, only to wish you were here.

Only to wish it were different.
Better...whatever that might be.

But I know that someday you and I will sit down over sunset and coffee and discuss where all the years have gone.

can i pray for you?