Fragmented …

I feel so fragmented. What use to be a complete psyche is now scattered. Parts seemingly occupyging bits of the nightmarish daymare. Other parts not even being there at all. Where did they go?

My humaness feels empty. If meeting someone in Second Life and falling in love with the person behind their avatar could be pinned as “virtual”. What I am living in is more virtual that the 3D made up environment.

Then again, how can one hold on to something that is fragmented? Like broken glass. The pieces jar my being. I am in pain. OUCH.

I wonder if it’s too late to reassemble my SELF.

Still …

It’s been well over two years that I left my life in Houston. I will always refer to that time as “left my life in Houston” because it is what it is. It was a very comfortable life. A very independent life. It was a life that I had worked hard  to acheive and attain for at least the 11years that I have lived in the U.S. A life  indeed.

What do I have now? I am not sure. What I do know is that I do not have the life I thought I would have, coming here to Europe. It’s not about having a car, a closet of even a fridge, although two out of those three things would certainly be helpful. I think what it boils down to is still knowing my soul.

I wrote somewhere, “When you follow your heart be prepared to lose your soul.” I meant it.

I hate to think that I am completely lost. Despite the familiarity of the Frankfurt streets and buildings, I still find myself walking or biking in a day mare. The kind that you cannot wake up from because indeed, you ARE awake.

Often I feel numb. Numb from the shock of having moved. Numb from the reality of the reality.

Still, I breathe. For now.

Abstract Writing Seems Permissible

When something is perceived as so abstract it is difficult to decide whether or not to be offended AND affected.

It saves the reader GRACE from possibly seemingly attacked.

It also saves the writer from having to explain the monumental TRUTH of what IS and what can be and positions them in a comfortable corner of “It’s only abstract.”

Indeed.

Vagina, Whoa is Thee

Having not had the pleasure of a warm, throbbing hardness that buries itself deep amidst the soul, sending eclectic brain waves to wander high above and cascade downward upon the body from head to toe, toe to head and very much in between the perverse lonliness only grows. Whoa is thee.

Having not produced the glistening dew that trickels down the thighs producing a light aroma of NEED whose purpose is to let slide the dream of a nation with so much of ease, will she still be able to create those drops of jewelled beads. Whoa is thee.

Not a cry for help nor a plea for forgiveness from the numerous countless guessings of what could have been done so wrong as to be annihilated from the very nuture of her pleasure, the soul grows weary of analyzing the empty story so worth telling. Whoa is thee.

Vagina be still.

Learn to sing behind the forest that covers your shame.

Learn to dream a nations dream without taking on the pain of defeat.

There is no war if there is no love. Your shame is saved.

I believe you’ll fly again and soar above when the time is right and so is the love.

Love’s Lost

Finally being tired of simply just being and trying to save words inside my head just so not to create any more stress and tension aimed at myself from FF. I want to just burst and be free to open up and cry and tell the world that I am in pain of the deepest kind that has struck the abstractness of my heart that I can no longer breathe.

I just want to be.

I long to be free to blog about whatever thoughts has prompted such an emotion in me that has justified the need to run a rampage on a site that is so deserving of the TRUTH.

Pain indeed.

Woman thou art lost amongst the expectations of a love that you have so carefully waited for and perhaps constructed out of a dream and had somehow became part of your reality.

Wake Up.

Death should be so sweet since this slow wasting of a life of passion and fire that IS me and has always been me is me no more as he kills me slowly by his inept to truly love and just be and feel and not be afraid to let go and I cringed as he repeated the words while underneath a cruel laugh, “….I don’t east sushi too!”

I had been led astray by lines of white font words that had suddenly appeared on the screen, hungry for meaning and taking in that which appeared to be TRUTH. Only to find that in the virtual world all was just virtual, including the love that was sown from the virtual fortitude of what I had to endear from the harsh white font words that would suddenly appear on the screen.

I had only been real, aside from the sexy walk and double d’d 3D avatar curves that had graced my virtual’ness. Beyond the form, inside my beating abstract heart I had given all of me and more.

Life is never what it seems and neither is a virtual world – even when it comes to REAL.

Happy times never last … here.

Happy times. Happy moods etc .. never last where I live.
The culprit is ………

Scenario …

He is on VoIP with a friend in SL.
His voice is very loud. But that is okay. Eventhough he does not realize how loud he actually is because he has the headphones on and of course no one ever realizes how loud they actually are with headphones.
He ends up telling his friend on VoIP that he is loud and I suppose he tells his friend to speak softer.
I then *nicely* say, “you are speaking too loud too.”
(I know I say this nicely because I somehow ended up speaking in one of those semi-baby voices. Why did I do that? I have no idea.)
He then gives me a very aggressive action with his arms up in the air.

I dare not look up to see the expression on his face. I know that expression. It is so mean.
I dare not even look at what his hands or what position his fingers are in – up in the air like that.
I just know that I can feel the very negative energy.

Loud voice continues.

Thank goodness for ipod nano.
I then put on the earphones and play Il DIVO as loud as I can.