(no subject)
When I was little, even though I had siblings, I spent a majority of my time by myself, not exactly sure why.
Too much of a dreamer my entire life, I'm sure.
But I used to catch bees and keep them as long as I could, but they always died. Before that, when I lived in Maryland, I caught catepillars and held them in my hands until their lives ceased.
By trying to have friends, I smothered and killed them instead.
Dolls are always a better friend to have.
Intaimate love, always ready for you with their arms held out and stuffing, so they never die until you tear them apart.
But friends don't tear into friends on purpose.
And even if you do tear them apart, they still bare a resembelance to what they once were.
I had plenty of friends when I lived in Algiers..I think, at least...but it was more of a controlling friendship. Children like authority, I suppose, even within their peers.
Even then I spent a majority of my time trying to teach myself to make flower crowns.
Then I moved to Metairie. My first friend out there was Ali. She controlled me, and from that point on, the only real friends I obtained controlled me, or conversation.
Then I discovered sexuality, but in a dense way, I suppose. I used to fantasize about things and that was always what I tgought fullfilmet was, rather then the norm of masturbation, touching yourself.. I didn't do that or even attempt till I was 15, and didn't try again till I was 17.
Even still, dreaming. Hazily looking at this perfect person within my mind's eye, and always expecting my true love to turn the corner one day, see me, and we'd collapse in kisses, because from that just the sight of each other, we'd know that we were meant for each other.
I always made "him" more sane then me.
But growing up teaches, I suppose.
I know the only love that exist now, is the love that cannot possibly become the dreams.
And he's always been silent...I've always been silent. I've never fantasized of staying up all night and talking, spilling out to each other and becoming one with words.
It's always been mouth consuming mouth. Hungry, lingering kisses...
But I suppose dreaming has to stop somewhere, I guess I realized that a while ago...when I started to succumb to people's words and hands with knowing that they couldn't possibly love me, and I could never love them.
Although I'm half awake now, I keep falling back into the submission of these hazed dreams, still hoping for silent love...alone with that lovely person's mouth hovering on my forehead.
And I keep dreaming for myself, that I'll actually have any worth to myself.
::Sigh::
And lately it's been getting harder and harder to tolerate.
I'm alone, but that's OK, because anyone trying to fill whatever it is in me, will never be capable of it.
Maybe I'll lie to myself down the road...
Like I've done so many times before...
But I think it's time to be awake now.
Too much of a dreamer my entire life, I'm sure.
But I used to catch bees and keep them as long as I could, but they always died. Before that, when I lived in Maryland, I caught catepillars and held them in my hands until their lives ceased.
By trying to have friends, I smothered and killed them instead.
Dolls are always a better friend to have.
Intaimate love, always ready for you with their arms held out and stuffing, so they never die until you tear them apart.
But friends don't tear into friends on purpose.
And even if you do tear them apart, they still bare a resembelance to what they once were.
I had plenty of friends when I lived in Algiers..I think, at least...but it was more of a controlling friendship. Children like authority, I suppose, even within their peers.
Even then I spent a majority of my time trying to teach myself to make flower crowns.
Then I moved to Metairie. My first friend out there was Ali. She controlled me, and from that point on, the only real friends I obtained controlled me, or conversation.
Then I discovered sexuality, but in a dense way, I suppose. I used to fantasize about things and that was always what I tgought fullfilmet was, rather then the norm of masturbation, touching yourself.. I didn't do that or even attempt till I was 15, and didn't try again till I was 17.
Even still, dreaming. Hazily looking at this perfect person within my mind's eye, and always expecting my true love to turn the corner one day, see me, and we'd collapse in kisses, because from that just the sight of each other, we'd know that we were meant for each other.
I always made "him" more sane then me.
But growing up teaches, I suppose.
I know the only love that exist now, is the love that cannot possibly become the dreams.
And he's always been silent...I've always been silent. I've never fantasized of staying up all night and talking, spilling out to each other and becoming one with words.
It's always been mouth consuming mouth. Hungry, lingering kisses...
But I suppose dreaming has to stop somewhere, I guess I realized that a while ago...when I started to succumb to people's words and hands with knowing that they couldn't possibly love me, and I could never love them.
Although I'm half awake now, I keep falling back into the submission of these hazed dreams, still hoping for silent love...alone with that lovely person's mouth hovering on my forehead.
And I keep dreaming for myself, that I'll actually have any worth to myself.
::Sigh::
And lately it's been getting harder and harder to tolerate.
I'm alone, but that's OK, because anyone trying to fill whatever it is in me, will never be capable of it.
Maybe I'll lie to myself down the road...
Like I've done so many times before...
But I think it's time to be awake now.