beauty & the beast

i stumble.
& when i do
i look to him
to catch me
& he’s all
“oops
butterfingers!”
as i go splat
sometimes
for good measure
he kicks me
while i am down
so why
when i stumble
every time i stumble
i still expect him to catch me?
why do i still
hold that burnt out
torch
why do i still whisper
“happily ever after…”
in my head
hearing that voice
“this time…
it will be different
this time…
he really has
changed”
so much  that i have employed
another voice
just to shout at me
“hey lady!
this ain’t fucking
beauty & the beast!”

don’t mind me. just working out some angst towards the ex. you know how it is. i think i’m almost done.
it’s that happily ever after that keeps me down.
not being able to let go of the dream of a perfect family. the great american sitcom family. yeah, there’s some rough times, but in the end, we all love each other.
except…
not.
no matter how i look at it. there is no possible way that what he thinks is love, is love. love doesn’t hurt people. go ahead, argue with me about it. but if you love someone. truly love someone. can you really rationalize hurting them? much less do it on pretty much a daily basis?
but, stupid me, it has taken a long time to learn this.
a lifetime of protecting myself enough just to fall on my face again when i believe a person has changed. when i believe a person actually loves me. when i believe a person couldn’t possibly hurt me…again….
sigh.
this ain’t fucking beauty & the beast.
yes, people can change.
but only if they want to.

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revolving door

i’m ruined
every time i see you
i’m ruined
how are you still able to break my heart?
how are you still able to make it beat faster?
i’m ruined
every
time
i
see
you
it sucks
so fucking hard
to realize
i still love you
i’m ruined
i have let you go
so many times now
i have become a revolving door for you
leaving me
ruined.

another page inspired by seeing dusty and having to fight the desperate longing for him that i thought i had managed to kill.
fucking dusty.

 

disappearing smile

i was so
preoccupied
looking at who i was
in our relationship
so bewildered
by my own behavior
by what i had
become
i never noticed
you
i never really saw
who you were
i pretended
you were
innocent & good
i trusted you
when you told me
you were perfect
because
what else could you be
if i was already
the monster?

i played around with this one a little. i don’t actually look like a cheshire cat…but he is one of my favorites in the land of alice.
plus i’m home alone with three cats right now and (i’m not a cat person.) so when i went to draw myself as a monster….
i mean, playing with hearts as if they are made of catnip? or, in the case of my cat roscoe, the thing you pull off a bottle of milk to open it. that plastic ring. a heart as a plastic ring? i mean, i did play with hearts…but only the still beating ones.
never realizing that mine was being played with as well….

okay…that might show up in pages to come….

random thoughts of an “adult” nature…

i miss sex, y’all.
like i’m some fucking monk….
i know i can go on okcupid & find a hook-up. god knows i’ve had offers when i’ve been on there. (my profile is down right now because i don’t know what i want…or, rather, i don’t think that what i want can be found on a dating site.)
but i don’t work like that. i mean, i will think–sure just sex–that’s cool. but if i’m willing to have sex with you, dude, i’m going to fall in love with you.
if the right person looks at me just the right way, i fall in love. i watched the sound of music with my kids the other day & fell in love with christopher plummer. god he looks good with dark hair–& those piercing eyes…sigh.

man, i miss sex.
it’s been over a year. i don’t know for sure how long because i didn’t know that the last time was the last time.
also!
since september of 2002, i have only had sex with dusty.
that might not seem odd to some of y’all, but here’s the thing, before dusty, i had had sex with 30 people. i was 32 when i met dusty and had decided that my number of partners could absolutely not surpass my age.
he was #31.
so 16 years with only one partner….
i mean, if we were still married, i would be proud of that. but we divorced in 2010. we continued to have a relationship with each other…but he also went off the rails & was having all kinds of relationships with all kinds of people.
while i had lost my mojo.
i lost my mojo.

i miss sex.
but sex is tricky for me. i have all that hard-core catholic programming of sex is bad (unless you are making a baby in wedlock.)
and then i have all the fucked up programming of my fucked up parents who modeled for me that a romantic relationship is a balance of fighting & fucking.
also, being a mom has made me self-conscious about my sex drive. it’s when the minions are away that i remember–
i am by nature a very sexual creature.
i am not going to go into details because of my latent catholicism and because i know i am inviting the wrong kind of attention by talking openly about sex while being a woman.
but i am–mostly–okay with this part of me. if you are into astrology, i am a cancer with a scorpio moon & scorpio rising. that’s like: sex sex emotions sex emotions & sex…with a lot of emotion.
i like sex.
it is something i am good at. (really really good–again, can’t go into details, but…really)
i miss sex.

but i don’t foresee myself having it again…unless i meet someone i can actually have a lasting & healthy relationship with.

some days that feels like the most impossible thing ever.

and i just find myself thinking…
i miss sex.

without a broken heart

i’m trying to figure out
how to live
with a heart
that is not broken
so much of my life
has been spent
ensnared
in my own pain
dancing to the beat
of my
perpetually broken
heart
all my days spent
first
trying to heal
& then
breaking my self
all over again
so much of my life
broken
i have no idea
how to live
without
wrapping myself up
in my own
misery.

i wrote down the thoughts on this page after commenting on someone’s post about broken hearts.
i liked the idea and this poem is my attempt at flushing out the idea of learning to live with a heart that is not broken.
i might play with it more.

the dodo bird is my spirit guide as i try to fly.
reminding me not to be too trusting.
reminding me to survive.

i have been thinking a lot about starting to do comics again. my latest posts are a bit cartoon-y…which i have to keep reminding myself that that is okay. it is okay to draw the way i draw. it is okay to not be michelangelo.
but maybe my subconscious is trying to steer me back to comics. i like to draw. i like to write stories…comics make sense. i just have to accept that, also, i am never going to be stan lee.
i am me. i have my own style. i have my own story to tell.

love for the lovely

maybe
love
is for other people
with perfect smiles
& perfect hair
& perfect lives
a love
those disheveled souls
like myself
can watch on tv
& dream
of never
having.

who saw this one coming? i have been the virgin mother, joan of arc, the queen of hearts…it was inevitable that i would get around to being venus?

credit to “the birth of venus” by sandro botticelli 

confusion is nothing new

once i wrote a poem.
it really was a poem…or at least i thought so. i was twenty-four and was full of light & hope & tragedy. i borrowed the title from a line in the cyndi lauper song time after time,  “confusion is nothing new.” i love that line.
i lay alone in my room at night, and i wrote this poem.

teeth and gums and nakedness
nothing new
a series of dreams
that never come true
but can i really say
that i never get what i want?
when wants change
and needs are undecipherable?
needs
i’d like to get what i need
teeth and gums and nakedness
men following men
through my room
moonlight
sunlight
lamplight
condom wrappers
and nothing fulfilled
but i got what i wanted
for 30 seconds
teeth and gums and nakedness

i have been thinking about this poem a lot. twice as many years later. written half-way to here. i wonder if anything has changed. really. love seems just as meaningless today. just as trivial. i have given it so many many chances and all i have in the end is teeth & gums & nakedness.
still.