mynewplace | (no subject)

FRIDAY

I cut into a pomogranate, and took a piece to Scarlett. I popped a seed into her mouth, and told her to ignore the bit in the middle. Of course she loved it, and sat there biting the rubies until sparkling juice was running down her chin. I watched, dazzled at the clarity, the pure redness that is so rare. I smiled, and thought of Peagan. I talked with him briefly. He was subdued, surprised to see me I'm sure. And even more surprised that he didn't have an opportunity to approach me, I pounced on him with the ferocity of Ming strung out on catnip. He was surprisingly sweet. And even more surprisingly, I was sweet back, offering him my psychic services with a clarity and accuracy that astounded me. He said "God I love you" and I felt a crooked smile play across my face, but that was all I felt. I told him "declarations of love are always welcome, though viewed with a bit of skepticism. I've been burned a lot this summer." Talking with him, then being reminded by something as simple as a pomogranate, made me long for my innocence. I wish I were that person I was when I met him, unjaded yet worldly-wise, as yet unscarred. Even the pain he put me through was minor in comparison. And I thought I'd die with it. Almost makes me wish I could go back to fantasy land, back where I knew that someone so perfect didn't really exist, was merely a figment of our combined imaginations. But then, had I stayed there and not experienced the reality that was the petulant god-like one, I would never have come to know myself so intimately, this creature within who aches for nothing more than to be possessed and cherished.

Thus, here I sit on Saturday morning, eating the last of the pomogranate and writing what I think for all of you to see. I'm glad I have you. And I'm grateful for this blog, for I can see that it may well save my sanity in this months I dread that lie ahead. Its nice to have a place to do some self-analyzation, lay it out for others to see, and feel validated by their response. And just as importantly, its nice to have a place where I can see what other people are thinking, and not spend hours turned within myself until I'm blinded, unable to find the way back out into the world.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well, now that I am done shooting my load on the bottom of the desk . . .

I wouldn't be able to continue typing if you were standing behind me. I get fouled up.

And secondly, I would be beaten to death if I came home with a hickey on my neck, so I would not have to worry about the tense of my story or varying the use of my pronouns.

hee hee hee

LMFAO! I thought Lisa was supposed to know about everything up front! You'd already BE home, honey. She has a no hickey rule, huh? hmmmmm Not even inside your thigh? *pouts*

She does know everything. I figured i would be typing at work. LOL I suppose work is at home now, though.

Yup, there IS a no hickey rule. That is a long story that is not mine to explain.

Inner thigh, though . . .

hmmmm . . . .

WINK

No explanation needed honey. Its all rhetoric at this point anyway. At least I was able to distract you for a minute. That's all I wanted to do. Certainly not start the next Hundred Years War.