Strings

strings they tug,
strings they release.
Whenever you refuse,
they want in on your action,
they want a piece.

strings they come,
strings they go.
When you claim your independence,
they then begin to collect,
they go against your flow.

strings they give,
strings they take.
When you need a helping hand,
they satisfy your need,
they pretend to do it nobly,
for your sake.

But strings they push,
and they pull,
Just when you had began,
to trust them in full.
They take away
twice what they gave,
Just when you think,
You might be safe.

Strings they come,
with most things in life.
People often attach them,
to the simplest favors and actions,
never thinking about it twice,
copying one-another,
just like sheep.

We’re living in this new world,
where all things now, have a price.
Even friendships are all for sale,
with puppet-strings in place
down at our sleeves,
pushing and pulling erratically,
to entertain the puppet-masters’
otherwise empty lives, with our strings,
sadly confirming each and every one
of their derogatory and outdated beliefs.

Comfortable Skin

when does my skin
become comfortable?
I’ve tried skinny…
I’ve tried fat…
I’ve tried witty…
I’ve tried bland…
None so far fit right,
They were often either
too big,
too smart,
or too tight.
So I kept shedding each new skin,
one after the other,
hoping to find a perfect fit,
seems I’ll keep searching
since I still haven’t found “it” !
Now very few skins are left out there,
that I didn’t try,
At this rate,
I might after all,
get to them all
right before I die.

Words

Words are my best friends
whenever I can name my pain,
they keep me company,
in my crowded but lonely mind,
as I suffer, trying to stay sane.
When I’m scared and away from home,
they comfort me better than
any other friend I couldpossibly find.
Then they’re also my worst enemy
when my pain doesn’t have a name.
They often betray me,
Disappearing like a ghost,
Just when I need them the most.

Like many best friends
and worst enemies, they just leave,
making the two, one in the same.
Life has a way of happening to me
in many ways I cannot explain.
That’s when I turn to people,
hoping they will let me blow off steam,
and listen as I babble and complain.
I complain that my words lack fidelity,
I complain of their fickle ways,
But most of all I complain
that they come back to haunt me,
just when I need them the least.
They come back out of the vast blue
and force me to relive,
my suppressed anger and my pain.
Then they tell me I have nothing left to lose,
and just some closure I can hope to gain.

Tough

as she walked by the halls
she heard all the whispers…
the “cool” kids were all talking
of her alleged sins…
they were calling her a slut,
they were calling her a tease.
they were calling her names
that she couldn’t repeat without unease.

as she went into her classroom,
the talking suddenly stopped.
that’s how she knew the topic
was still something she’d fucked.
she was getting used to,
the isolation and the pain,
of having no one to
wipe her tears of shame,
(even if in vain…)
the stain of what was left of
her tortured heart’s remains,
was getting even harder,
to wash away with change.

as she heard the bell ringing,
she dreaded the coming hour.
lunch-time was the worst,
since it lasted a whole hour.
she headed to bathroom,
to spend lunch hiding there.
because she knew she couldn’t handle,
another judgmental stare.
she counted 60 minutes,
as she waited in the stalls.
flocks of girls would come and go,
giggling and joking about her woes.
she’d sit quietly and listen,
while they cruelly tore her apart.
she was afraid to let them see,
all this talk was breaking her heart.

as she walked back into the classroom,
she had tears in her eyes.
she had realized the gossip wasn’t over,
and it wouldn’t be, anytime soon,
not even if she really tried hard.
she fought to stay focused,
while her teachers kept talking…
but her mind wouldn’t slow down,
it just kept hurriedly walking…
from thought to thought…
from feeling to feeling…
holding back her tears.
as her life was unfolding,
she was still all alone and finally facing
each one of her greatest fears’ unveiling.

Loneliness was horrid,
but she managed it.
Then came anger,
but she overcame that too.
Last came bitterness,
which finally knocked her out.
She began to let life,
dangerously knock her around.

As she heard the final bell,
there was nothing left to tell.
She’d be leaving school, soon
and then she’d be going,
home to another hell.
It became a vicious cycle,
as the days just passed her by.
They quickly turned into years,
as she patiently waited to die.
There was nowhere left to turn to,
There was no one to ease her pain.
Everyone had left,
since they had nothing more to gain.

As she stepped outside the gate,
and wandered into the rain,
she tuned out all the whispers,
and listened to the rain,
and listened to her pain,
It sounded so peaceful, it sounded so serene.
She decided then and there
that she, would be the same.
She stopped foolishly caring,
about what people would say or do.
Soon what they thought became obsolete,
when she finally vowed to exist
for her own happiness solely,
and quit trying to please,
all those whispering crowds,
festering jealousy and disease.

The rain outside though heavy,
no longer seemed sad,
as she let it wash away her pain,
it even made her feel glad.
now all that was left
was a hard rock of a girl,
tough and cold
and truly more ready
for this cruel and mad world.
Book Recommendation on Female Empowerement

Slut!: Growing Up Female with a Bad Reputation

by Leora Tanenbaum

tagged:
female-empowerment, inspirational, and women-empowerment

The Haunting

some memories haunt you

year after year, day after day…

they keep coming back 

until you actually deal with them,

like nosy relatives that are just visiting you, 

but then refuse to go away.

some memories never let you go.

they just stick by your side for years,

as you search high and low:

for answers about your dreadful past,

for feelings you had to bury deep, and fast,

for reasons to all those  things you had to get past.

they stick by you through it all…

even after the faces involved fade away, 

becoming mere shadows of  that scary past,

which you tried so hard to forget for many dark years,

until she, “the scary relative” came back to get justice, 

from those who wronged her, when she came to stay last.

sometimes it’s a recurring sound,

like the that of rain, hitting a busy pavement.

sometimes it’s a more visual sign,

like a hideously funny costume, on a perfect stranger.

and sometimes it’s much more simple,

as all it is, is a gut feeling,

that although your worst nightmare is over,

soon it’ll be back, just visiting. 

Those are the days you want to stay in bed,

and pretend that you’re not really consumed with dread.

Those are the days you suffer sleepless nights,

because at night your dreams are so terrifying, 

that they make you wish instead, that you were dead.

but even the longest visit has an end,

and eventually you find the strength 

to get yourself out of your sheltered bed.

and once again, you let courage in

to your life, otherwise burdened with sin.

and once again, you discover reason to want to win,

the games of life you began to dread at eighteen,

when a single small mistake on one lonely night,

stole away everything for which you wanted to fight;

when a single touch of evil on a cold and gloomy night,

took your heart out of the game of love and hid it out of sight.

when the cold and unwelcome bite of that  remorseless & smug snake,

poisoned your fragile and pretty skin, 

destroying years of  innocence that were at stake... 

when one single night in the clutches of  the serpent,

took away many years of pleasant experiences,

where you were taught to trust and to tell wrong apart from right.

The toxic snake, on that night, had gotten his evil wish, 

when he caused you to once again conveniently forget,

how to love as well as be loved, the way you used to before all his bloodshed.

In this cruel and cynical world, now full only of regret,

he was the first ring in your long chain of  misery,

for which all you can do now is quietly repent.

Hoping to someday erase all memories of him,

you once again begin your fight, surprisingly, on a whim,

And you step out of  your self-imposed perpetual dark.

as you try to regain, your exhausted soul’s former spark.

Castles of Sand

Castles of sand keep tumbling down,
they call for help, but there’s no one around,
except for the dark, ruthless ocean;
who just likes to watch them drown.

Trials

She set out on her journey with a box full of dreams, 

and, her plans to explore whole new continents and seas.

The world had to have more to offer than just birds and bees.

She hoped to see what was out there, among mystical beings.

She set out on her journey with pure courage and ease,

only to lose it all, once storms engulfed her overtired knees.  

Demise of the Spirit

Birthdays come and go
but they no longer disturb the flow.
Anniversaries pass you by,
just like any other day, as quickly as a sigh.
Then there are the holidays and some holy days,
which often go by in a severely drunken haze.
They all come and go,
But as time goes by, cruelly, so quickly but somehow slow
they no longer disturb the flow.
they no longer disturb your flow.

WISH...

If I could close my eyes and will my love away, 

I would do so without delay. 

If I could find any way 

Out of this endless night into the day, 

It would, finally add some color into all this nasty gray, 

Just like cute little daisies that suddenly appear 

amidst green pastures, in the virgin month of May. 

I wish I hadn’t lost my way, 

then maybe, my dreams could avoid decay… 

I wish I hadn’t lost my way. 

She-Devil

Hidden within her mirror
there lies a mischievous & flaky sinner,
waiting for a fashionably late summer dusk.
She sensually molds her long brunette hair
to match a typically breezy sunset air
and then sprays on some perfume to act as musk.

The Weary Will of a Dreary Survival

Aren’t you tired of being invisible? 

Trying to make them laugh with you 

so that, they won’t notice how you’ve been miserable! 

Aren’t you tired of laughing at yourself? 

While you put away all your other needs, 

including both sex and intimacy, up on a dusty shelf!? 

Birthday Wish 2007...;)

Dear Goddess,

Chains

You said you wanted to make me your wife
you wanted me with you through the good times and the strife
then you held on to me tightly, almost as if I was your whole life
that’s when I realized; I could never be… your wife.
that’s when I realized; I wasn’t ready… for that kind of life.

The kind of life where my only job is to look pretty,
and yours is to provide for me and soon the to be born junior Berry,
is not the kind of life that was meant for me!

The kind of life where I’m to be arm candy,
while you get to do, and achieve and brag about the whole frenzy,
is not the kind of life at all suited for me!

Not Me

I’m not the girl you’ve been searching for.

My make is not perfect,

and it was not meant for show. 

I’m not the girl you’ve been searching for.

My legs are tired of running

and my optimism is running low.

My feet are swollen and my hands worn out,

My body was grossly misspent, right after you stormed out.

My eyes lost their fire, it just burned out.

My heart has been broken, too badly to ride it out. 

So you see,

I’m not her.

Yearning

Is this how I’m supposed to carry on,
Loving you, but in fear that I might let on?
Or in vain, hoping that you'll lead me on?
Is this how I’m supposed to go on,
Now that you finally decided to move on?

For years I waited,
Patiently, I just dated, killing time
so you could notice
that you and I, were always meant to be one.
Now it seems you’ve found “your one”
So I get to find out what happens,
When I a person’s lifelong dream is crushed, and gone.

Is this how I’m supposed to carry on,
Loving you, but in fear that I might let on?
Or in vain, hoping that you'll lead me on?
Is this how I’m supposed to go on,
Now that you finally decided to move on?

You weren’t my best friend,
But you were there whenever I needed one.

Bedding the Lion

Heart of gold, 

A thousand years old. 

Wisdom in her years, gained through wasted tears… 

Trying to overcome fears, 

Through fights to the death, gruesome and bloody 

Fully armed with defensive and emotional spears. 

She hustles her way past all the pretty pink ruffles 

And the supposedly “protective” tiny little bubbles 

Only to find shelter in the lion’s den. 

The lion studies her with care in his fierce eyes, 

More care than she’s felt in her many, long tides. 

So she goes to sleep peacefully, nestled in his embrace 

Knowing full well that by the next morning, 

He probably will have violently mauled her pretty little face. 

Still, it seems better when life is predictable, 

In the midst of all the cries and all the hate, 

It feels good for a moment, 

to believe she’s among the familiar, and that her heart is safe. 

That’s why she chooses to accept the lie, 

Knowing all along that it’s all fake. 

She goes to bed with the lion consciously, 

Because that way, she’ll know what and when to expect! 

Because that way she’ll know not to hope for love or respect!

Remedy

Eyes…
A pair of eyes is all it takes,
to heal the wounds of past mistakes.
A pair of eyes that raise the stakes
just by looking into your soul they’ll open its gates
to a wonderland bursting full of love
and its trusty partner: hope -out to graze.
A pair of eyes is all it takes,
to mend your broken heart
and fortify her blaze.

SEX -How much should we share with our partners?

Some may think it weird that I'm asking this question and sharing my thoughts on it on such a public forum... others (those who-well- know me better as a somewhat crazy and outspoken individual) will not be so surprised and think it typical. I could just as well post on an anonymous website and get feedback from internet bloggers and total strangers.. I'd rather not though. The feedback which I would rather get is that of people I know, people I grew up with or people from similar backgrounds as me... those are the opinions I'm more interested in...

Anyway, the first question we should ask is "why do we really care about sexual history?" On a more personal note, I usually care mostly because I would like to make sure that my partner has been reasonably safe in his or her sexual encounters and will not infect me with HIV or other STD's. But if that was all, I could just ask him or her to get a check up and be satisfied with those results. However, even a clean bill of health will not always satisfy my curiosity. Usually, I will want to know at least some details of my lovers’ sexual history. For example, I would want to know if he or she has ever been interested in someone who is NOT of the opposite sex.. I mean, true a person should have a right to privacy and discretion but I should be privy to important information as such, that could potentially be a deal-breaker for me in sustaining the relationship. After all, it’s hard enough not to be jealous of some of the girls in his past, imagine how hard it would get if I became suspicious of his guy friends and his “guys night outs” as well! Other than that, as a woman, I prefer to think of myself as an adequate lover –to say the least. I’m sure I’ve had experiences that would prove the contrary, but I also have certain lovers under my belt that would probably consider the sex we had sensational. Either way, it’s in my nature to compare myself to other women and sometimes even men. Granted, there will always be people that are better than you at doing certain things and I understand that, but that doesn’t mean they were more compatible with your boyfriend or girlfriend in the big picture, and it doesn’t mean it’s not OK to want to know who and what you’re competing against.

Now, of course there are certain exceptions here that shouldn’t go unmentioned…. First of all, I genuinely believe that a person should NEVER- under ANY circumstance- ask a question if they won’t be able to handle the answer they get! That, my friends, is a GOLDEN RULE! If what you find might haunt you, STOP DIGGING! Otherwise, ask away and any self-respecting girl who’s confident and honest will answer. For example, if you want to hear that you were the BEST sex of her life, DO NOT ask; “Have you had any better?” or “Who was the best sex of your life?” Chances are, she has had uninhibited and maybe even meaningless amazing sex with some surfer dude who’s brain was so fried the rest of the time, that sex was the only thing he could possibly be good for! Think how you’ll feel once you hear this, before you ask the question. Also, stop this obsession you have with SIZE, period. If it mattered THAT MUCH she wouldn’t even be with YOU! And YES, she probably HAS HAD BIGGER, or will have, at some point in her life, and that does not automatically make it better or worse and she will not admit this because she doesn’t want you to feel inadequate!

Just to give an example, some of the WORST sex partners I have EVER had were the ones that were REALLY well endowed where as the more average guys were so attentive, strong and athletic that they truly made up for what could be said they might be lacking, so much so that one of them was the first to make me realize I had never had an Orgasm before him! And then there are some average guys (or little ones-I’m sorry to say)(you know who you are...), that instead of working to get better at pleasing your partners, well, some of you expect her to settle for PLAIN BAD SEX. Just because God didn’t give you EVERYTHING on a silver platter like some others (the lucky bastards as you often call them), doesn’t mean you should quit working to achieve perfection- or at least try to get better at something that, well, you’re supposed to keep doing for the rest of your life!

Getting back to what you shouldn’t dig…it seems like I’m coming down really hard on the guys so I’ll settle the score with the ladies as well. Stop asking if you’re the prettiest he’s ever been with. He’s probably been with at least one girl with a perfect ass, perfect tits and perfect teeth. Be happy that he’s been with her already and still has chosen to be with you now. (I know this is easier said than done and I too often have trouble with this one.) By the way, I can’t go without mentioning that there are some EXTREMELY happy couples out there who aren’t very open and honest with each other on these subjects. That works for some people, you just have to decide which kind of person you are and be honest about that with your partner. For example, some girls would rather hear that they were the best even if deep down they know it’s not true. Personally, I’m not one of them and if my lover were to say I was, I would probably start questioning him on the number and quality of lovers he had, trying to figure out why some hot model, an experienced older lover, or a threesome before me was NEVER able to give him more pleasure. But again, that’s just me. Another girl might be perfectly happy believing the white lie that she’s the one and only. It’s sort of like the guys who like to pretend that their girlfriends were virgins before them even if they weren’t.

(And yes people, there still are 25 year-old virgins out there- both men and women… But the virginal women are rarer and fewer than the men would like to think… and the inexperienced or virginal men are more in number than we women and men realize!-I recently had to deal with this awakening in a very crude manner when the last 3 guys I was with had all been with fewer partners than I had until them! And believe me, that was not a comfortable conversation at all. I finally felt what many men feel when they first hit us women with their number. Of course for men it’s not that big a deal because society often applauds them for their “conquests” where as it degrades us women for being “easy”. Well I have news for you fellows, if some of us weren’t so open minded and comfortable with sex, you men wouldn’t be getting as much as you do. And considering how MOST of you are already complaining about not getting enough S-E-X, I think it would be in your own interest to start respecting the women you try to label as cheap or easy.)

Anyway, I’ve strayed from the original topic again… I know where I stand on this topic. I prefer total openness and honesty. And I believe a person should have as many sexual partners as they feel they need in order to be healthy and happy with who they turn out to be at the end of the day. (Of course- safety is CRUCIAL so use condoms and get physicals often if you enjoy lots of kinky and no-strings attached sex!!! I can not stress the importance ENOUGH.) And I believe that the double standard society holds us women to is total BULLSH*T. Even more ridiculous, is this recent “scientific” excuses men seem to be coming up with nowadays about how a male has an ingrained need to spread his seed. Or how multiple partners for women, means not being able to tell who the father of the potential child is. We’re living the age of DNA testing and contraception as well as freedom of expression!

So cut the crap about your seed because we both know that when your dick is inside me, hard as a rock and ready to burst, neither one of us is thinking of your seed, if we were, you would lose your erection and I would freak out big time and start wearing a chastity belt!

Now that my last angry outburst is over, I can ask you guys to comment on how much YOU think is "appropriate" to share in relationships and why. (And hey maybe we’ll get so many interesting opinions that I’ll decide to write a book some day- Anonymous of course….)


Thanks for reading and for sharing…
I look forward to reading comments. (ie. MAKE SOME!) :)

CONSEQUENCE

Just because I didn't fall apart,
Doesn't mean you were right to break my heart.
Just because I kept holding on,
Doesn't prove you weren't wrong!

You were selfish,
I was blind...
Every time you left me behind.
I forgave and tried to forget.
Because of that, this is what I get.

Next time I'll try to stay strong.
When you once again realize that you were mistaken all along.
Next time I'll just put into song,
The love I had for you for so long...
I'll let it pour out of me and just wave goodbye,
Instead of letting you back in, only to make me cry!

Just because I didn't fall apart,
Doesn't mean you were right to break my heart.
Just because I kept holding on,
Doesn't prove you weren't wrong!

JILTED

You left me standing in the desert,
When you twisted my memories & ripped them apart,
With a hint of desperation & the scent of loneliness,
you recklessly filled up my desolate heart.
Stars that once shone bright faded, into blackness, into dread.
Staring me in my face, was the next dreary morning, right ahead,
But all I had the strength for was to sleep, and just stay in bed.

Nighttime

eyes open, lids heavy...
the soul reeks of fear, shamelessly.
hands reaching, face searching...
for a familiar smile, among the many.

fingers cross, hopeful & readily
the silent prayer is only for harmony
in this life- in this cruel and chaotic medley!

eyes close, lids no longer light...
another night, ending the battle- but not the fight.
Rest seems impossible under this fierce bright light.
That's why we keep waiting for the night.
That's why we still hope for the moon and her usual blithe!

Life Imitating Art

Do you know
what it's like
to cry until you have no tears left?
what it's like
to try to survive when all you feel like doing is lament?
what it's like
to die inside day by day, bit by bit, alone and adrift..
I know it all today, I knew it then...
I've known all along, to what I was getting myself in.
Still I consciously chose,
in the face of each warning and the general alarm,
the few precious moments in your insincere arm,
over a life, safe from your unintentional but inevitable harm...
hoping against all our history,
and all of the undeniable proof to the contrary,
that this time was real, that "we" might be the real deal...
that this time what I could feel, was returned to me with the same zeal.
that this time you would not break my heart, & you would not bail,
leaving me behind stewing miserably in my self-made, private jail.

But you did leave me,
once again...
and all I can feel is
numb...
No anger or hate flows through these veins
because I did this myself...
Yes, I did this to myself.

You broke my heart,
into these tiny bits and pieces,
once again,
and heard none of my pleas,
took no prisoners.
When done,
you swept the remainder away
under some neat and tidy rug,
right after crushing my broken soul,
like a misguided tiny & annoying little bug...

This was not the deal I had in mind,
when i had asked god, to let me be the one you’d find,
this wasn't the picture I had carried for years, in my hopeful little heart.
But everything has been wrong, right from the start.
it's all been a pitiful sham, that finally fell apart.
like the Shakespearean tragedies, my life... imitating art...
I just silently watch,
as the dying embers of my once tenacious soul depart.
I console myself by saying:
"It's just life imitating art."
"My love & life falling apart, is just life imitating art..."

Unrequited Love

  I have often wondered why I have so little patience for unrequited love -both in real life and in fiction & movies, etc. Lately I have found the answer. I have become such an expert at it myself that I no longer understand the horrible things pain and a breaking heart are expected to make people do. In movies, the most amazing and level-headed women turn into conniving bitches when in pursuit of men that don't return their feelings. The men on the other hand, turn into uncivilized and juvenile morons! (no surprise there) Similar examples are present everywhere, even literature.. just reread some of Shakespeare's tragedies & comedies and you'll get the picture. 

    Looking at "unrequited love" as it is represented in movies and fiction, the only explanation I can come up with is that the people doing all that writing aren't people who've had the pleasure(!) of being in love- alone. And it pisses me off to see the likes of myself portrayed as such underhanded, conniving and pathetic beings. 

    Believe it or not unrequited love does not turn one evil. --if it does, that could only mean that person was EVIL to begin with! Love is love, whether it is returned or not, it doesn't make a person plot the destruction of another human being. I should know... I've loved (and by love I mean the REAL kind. -u know the one where you wish you could rip your heart out just so you could stop the aching and pain you feel, where just the sight of the other person makes you giddy and his unfeeling response to your presence makes you judge yourself so harshly that you relive the last 10 years of your life, trying to figure out where you went so wrong!). In fact, the only kind of love I know is unrequited love. And as sad as this sounds, I do believe that that is the purest and most sincere kind of love there is. Unrequited love is the love you give, unconditionally, without any expectation what-so-ever. It's the love that's not deserved, but is given anyway. How many couples "in love" can say they love their lovers that selflessly? (Not many I'm guessing...) 

    "Unrequited Love..." the term says it all when you think about it. "Not reciprocated, not rewarded... But who says love is supposed to be rewarded? I was 13 the first time I learned what the term meant. And as funny as it sounds and seems, the only thing it changed in me was how fast I had to grow up. You could say it happened almost overnight. When I realized I couldn't force anyone to love me back, I had to learn to be content to love from afar, and try to make him happy whenever I could with whatever I was able to offer -and that was enough. Whenever my efforts paid off, and I miraculously was able to cause a tiny smile on that angelic face I so adored, that would be more than enough to make me happy. And on days it wasn't, it was better to have that than nothing at all... I never thought to disparage the women he expressed interest in or professed his love for. Not a single day went by where I even considered trying to sabotage a relationship he had. Now you're gonna say I was too young to be that calculating so let me refute that argument before you even bring it up. I may have been 13 when I fell in love... but it lasted way beyond my adult years. On some days, I still fear some of the love still remains -alive & well- beneath the heavy coats of hate I tried to drown my feelings in on the day I finally saw I wasn't being treated with even a shred of the respect I deserved as a person and should have been getting from him. I mean, I know I said I had no expectations, but that should not have to mean a girl has to give up all self-respect and let the man or men she loves walk all over her without even having to suffer any consequences... 

    Now you're probably already thinking: "Where on earth did that come from, what did she mean by men?" So I'll immediately elaborate on that... I was 15 when I started feeling the excitement of a new and really strong "crush," the kind one would assume I wasn't capable of having being that my heart already belonged to another undeserving, unappreciative and immature boy - "a moron" as my parents often described him. (no offense) But surprisingly, I was able to have strong feelings for another guy. In fact, the feelings were so strong that for a second there, I believed I was over "guy number one." Needless to say "guy number two" barely even noticed I was alive, and when he did, he -to my great dismay- treated me like the younger sister he never had. Now lets review my track record: #1 doesn't see me as anything more than a friend and #2 thinks I'm way too young to even be considered a young woman.. (no kidding! obviously he was right, but try explaining that to a 15-year-old heart that's completely immersed in LOVE, just like my parents. you too would have failed miserably...) So what did I do next? I went and decided that this time I should at least do something before giving up and rolling over. I decided to try to be more grown up than I actually felt... and ended up getting attention from almost everything male, including flies and even guy #2 noticed the change in me but the novelty quickly wore off and soon I was back to being the sweet and naive sister. -oh how hard I worked over the next 9 years to shatter that image of myself -only god knows. 

    Anyway, I'm gonna skip the drama and the details because they're insignificant to the point I'm trying to make. In the following years, I realized that the only way I would have a semi-normal life was if I gave up on the dream of being with someone I loved. And finally, I started dating -killing time while I waited for love. For a long time I was able to convince myself that both guys were part of my past, distant memories... But then about 6 years ago, as I was about to graduate high school, I realized guy number one was still very much in my head and in my heart. I tried to ignore it when I found out he was dating someone I really liked and respected but eventually the suppressed feelings came back years later to bite me in the ass, when I really just wanted to move on. 

    In the mean time, guy number 2 had a brief episode of temporary insanity where he was suddenly interested in me, my freshman year in college (soon after first showing interest in my own SISTER).. However the timing was so bad and we were both so fucked up due to certain events in the near past that had brought us there that neither one of us was in a place where we could handle any more than a fling. (then again, I may have tried if he had shown any interest, but lets face it, that wasn't gonna happen, at least not then.) So with that fling, I got him out of my system... or so I thought. For years he was my best friend, there with me through my break-ups and guy trouble and the fun times. Our relationship with each-other was so relaxed and comfortable that we could talk about EVERYTHING. (And by that, I mean truly everything. He even taught me how to give a proper blow-job, using a banana to demonstrate the whole thing, making my boyfriend at the time eternally grateful)

    And then years later, I finally have something I didn't have back then: HINDSIGHT! It was last year that I finally was able to admit to myself that I've always compared my boyfriends to guy number one, and found trivial flaws to make them fall short. Even when they had everything else I needed, there was one thing missing: they weren't HIM. Just when I thought I had figured this whole thing out, guy number two came shooting back into my life, literally. And suddenly it all became clear to me. I was in love with both my best friend and the one that got away. I had been, for almost 10 years. (And god knows if I had put just half the amount of effort and energy I put into maintaining those two relationships, into any one of the actual relationships I had, or into finding someone that would love me back, I might have been married, even with child by now!) You know how in movies the heroine often ends up having to choose between two guys who truly love her. It's a little bit like that. But unlike having to choose between two men who love me, I've been torn between two men that don't love me back so it's been that much more difficult to move on. After all, what was the point of picking one when I knew it was not going to make any difference?

    Anyway, let's get back to the subject of love now that I'm done getting sidetracked. As you can see, it is more than possible to love someone who doesn't love you and manage to avoid becoming a scheming witch. Granted, I'm pretty sure I must have had the urge to gouge out the eyes of some of their girlfriends that would treat them or me disrespectfully but I never let those passing urges take over my behavior towards anyone or affect my treatment of those women. And I most certainly never wished for either guy to get dumped or prayed for their relationships to fail. In other words, I never wished anyone ill for having what or who I don't have. I guess that's why I have so little respect or patience for the jealous and vindictive unrequited lovers in life and in art. Because to me, love whether requited or not, is about giving something without any expectations for something in return. It's about loving someone for who they are, and the feelings their sole existence gives rise to within your soul. It's not some math, or equation where you can insert the necessary values and the formula suddenly makes sense. It is quite possible to love unselfishly... all you need is a touch of masochism and you're good to go... Just like I was. (Sometimes even for years!)

    Anyway, I just wanted to voice my frustration with the portrayal of my kind... we're not scorned evil women, or scary and horrifying succubi, waiting to tear off people's heads or shatter their happy relationships because of our jealousy and resentment. We're just people, that love a little differently than most... And in this age where people are so ready to preach tolerance for every different kind of person, every race, ethnicity, religion, belief, sexuality and varying morals, it's surprisingly unfortunate that the one thing we seem to lack tolerance for or something as innocent, pure and harmless as LOVE. What a shame...