Love, a mythology

Love, a Mythology

Once upon a time,

a long time ago,

a story began

on a land unknown.

Before the light and the dark

began to fight,

before there was the day 

and before there was night,

before there just was

and wasn't a world,

there lived a spark,

who did nothing but twirl.

He had no future,

he had no past.

He simply just was,

and that was that.

But this poor little spark,

all alone in nothing,

began to think 

he was missing something.

But try as he might, 

he just didn't know,

what he was missing 

and which way to go.

The little spark tried and tried as he might,

not even realizing he was creating a light.

This little light grew until suddenly,

the spark, for the first time,

could truly see.

All that was around him 

and near him 

and close,

yet all this was nothing,

but he didn't know. 

His light had created

 the colors we know,

like rainbows around him,

the space seemed to glow.

He liked this a lot,

but it wasn't enough,

cause the spark didn't know,

he was looking for love.

We all need companions,

there's no question of truth,

but what of the spark,

who had nothing

to gain or to lose?

He tried really hard,

to give the light a form,

but try as he might,

it was nothing but warm.

Til suddenly the spark

figured it out,

and knew without question,

 and had no doubt.

He was trying all wrong,

to create a love,

not loving what he had,

and what he was void of.

The little sparked loved

the light like he should,

until a time came the light seemed to grow.

The spark was surprised,

when what should he see,

but another little spark,

glowing bright with glee.

These two little sparks 

embraced without end,

vowing never ever to be lonely again.

The sparks kept getting bigger,

as love grew and grew,

until suddenly

 boom,

they made something new. 

The world was so perfect,

they really were sure,

so many sparks,

and love so pure.

The sparks turned solid,

and the love grew hotter,

and as the world began filling,

 they gave birth to a daughter.

No not a son,

he didn't come first,

it was a girl

destined to be

the mother of the Earth.

This mother was born 

of pure and true love,

and that's all she wants

from somewhere above. 

She wants us to know,

her parents tale,

of how nothing became something,

and lifted the veil.

In everyone one of us

resides a spark,

waiting in patience til love comes along,

freeing it from its lonely existence,

waiting for color to pay a visit.

So never give up

til your spark is a fire,

and always know love

shines brighter and brighter.

Hey It's been awhile...

I didn't realize how long it had been since I wrote... things have just been crazy to a point where I haven't given it much thought at all. Not on purpose that is... But anyway, I guess I should fill out a little of what has been happening...


Let me see...

My boyfriend and I have been together for over a year now. Its been a crazy ride; one that I never thought was possible, if we're being honest. It's not that I don't think he isn't everything I want, or that I don't love him to the ends of the earth; its simply that I doubted I could stay in a relationship without self destructing things. I have that crazy way of making the world blow up in my face. But things have been a lot better.

I have been working really hard, not to fix myself, but to become a better me. I grew to a point where this depression and anxiety was really ruining my life. I couldn't take what it was putting me through, so I took whatever steps I needed to so that I could fix it. I think that it really has made a difference in my life. Garrett and I have been pushed to our limits by this depression and I doubt that we would still be together if I hadn't made the effort to change myself.

I can honestly say that I feel happy more now than I feel depressed. Its a new life style for me. I often find myself restless and awkward because I don't know how to function without that sadness hovering over me. I have more energy than I am used to and a desire to make friends. It's odd if you ask me. But apparently this is the right state of mind, so I'm not questioning it. I sometimes worry that these changes are going to make me lose track of who I am. I'm not sure if this is simply based off a dependency on the depression or if I am truly missing the loner figure that I used to be. The unknown has always scared me and this is truly no exception. I'm terrified of what could happen if I suddenly decide that this isn't what I want.

I guess that is part of the problem. I fear the what-ifs that are everywhere in the world. There is no way of me being able to predict the future and I hate that. I hate not having that control over the events in my life. I find myself constantly thinking what-if this happens or what-if that happens, and no matter how many times I tell myself not to think of life that way I seem to be stuck in that mental state. It just drives me crazy. I guess its true what they say... we are truly our worst critic and enemy.

 Control
I constantly fear the unknown,
Can't seem to let the world lead.
I fight at every given turn,
I try to ignore all my own needs.
I wish upon stars and moons and lights,
Begging the freedom of the night.
Wishing that I could just let it go,
Let my life be wild like the wind and the sea.
I know it won't happen,
I know it can't be,
I can't seem to let go of me.
I fight with every bit of my strength,
To control the world,
Like the fish in a tank.
I wanna be God,
But only to me,
The master of my fate,
Of my Destiny.

How I learned about sex?

            Growing up I was a very sheltered child. My parents kept everything from me and me from everything. No sleep overs, no parties, no hanging out with friends. This of course led me to an extreme naivety, or even ignorance. I still to this day have no idea what the birds and the bees are. While others little girls were talking with their moms about their first menstrual cycle and about where babies came from, I was given an American Girl book, and left to figure it out on my own. At some point in my young life (around the third grade) people started talking about it during recess, on the playground. Well since I knew so little about it I was tuned on all frequencies. I wanted to know what I didn’t know and be smart like all of my friends. The things I learned at that age… I think I must have also been very gullible.

            One of the first descriptions I heard was about a hot dog and a bun. It was simple and made since to me at the time, because at that age the anatomy of girls and boys was far from my mind. I remember when I was told about this a very good friend of mine had pulled me away from everyone else that we were playing with, and sat with me on the swings far away from all the other kids. She told me that she wanted me to be up to date on the knowledge of life, and didn’t like that I didn’t know something everyone else did. I accepted this quickly and was one step short of grabbing pen and paper. It seemed like a note taking opportunity. Needless to say I learned differently as I grew up. I can’t pin point the exact moment that my knowledge changed, even though I do remember going over the concept in health in both my middle school and high-school years. But even when I learned about the differences I still clung to some of my childish ideals about sex; for example I didn’t want to “have sex”, I wanted to “make love”. My world was raised around Disney princesses, and that was what I wanted my life to be!

            I guess it would be a little too corny to say we can’t always get what we want, but that’s the truth in my case. When I learned about sex, really learned about what it is and how it works, I lost that childish innocence and that desire for a fairie tale. When I was 15 everything was taken from me. While other girls were gushing over their first times, I was lost in the horror of mine. There were no rainbows and butterflies, fireworks and angel choirs. There was the cold bed of a truck, the pleas for it to stop, and constant reassurance that I would like it. Needless to say I didn’t and felt I never would. Sex no longer was a romantic and beautiful thing to me, it was a dark thing that haunted me and made me feel less than I was. I didn’t sleep around after that, contrary to the belief of my high-school peers, rather it took me a year to share that with someone again, and very few since then. I had difficulty making an emotional connection between the act of sex and the person I was experiencing it with, because even though it lost its value, part of me still wanted a fairie tale.

            I find myself frequently comparing myself to stories I heard as a child. When it comes to my discovery of sex, I find myself in the shoes of the Princess and the Frog, but rather than I be the Princess, I’m the frog. I see it as me having kissed the wrong Prince, only to find out he’s a witch who turns me into a frog, and I had to kiss a few other princes to try and get back to what I truly am. I think I finally found my prince, because sex now has a meaning for me, and I have that emotional connection that part of me has always been yearning for. Of course, I honestly wouldn’t change a thing about how I learned about sex though, because it made me who I am today. Gave me the strength that I have, and the caution I think I need. Learning about sex was more than just the physical aspects; it helped me learn about me.

How I got to this point in my life?

                   My whole life I’ve heard little quips about how the apple never falls far from the tree; that you are given a hand at birth and you have no option in the way it is played, and every time I heard this I viewed it as unacceptable. I come from a history where drama and addiction are soul-mates that seep into the souls of every branch of our family tree. I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove this wrong; to show that it’s possible to avoid addiction and be strong for you. My main adversary, though, hasn’t been stories of my grandmother’s suicide or the exile of my mother from the rest of her family. My problem has simply been my mother. By nature my mother is a kind hearted woman who gives everything she has to make others around her happy. But for years (I believe 12 and counting) she has been nurturing an addiction to alcohol. When she drinks (which is so often that it’s probably easier to describe the times, “when she doesn’t drink”) she becomes cruel and hard, selfish and bitter, and in all entirety the opposite of the mother I loved in my childhood.  

            When I was little I was a soft child who wanted nothing more than for everyone to be happy, and for rainbows to lead the way to meadows full of daisies and wildflowers. When my mother started drinking that world was brought to a screeching halt. Things weren’t happily ever after anymore. No more running, smiling to mom, instead I had to hide in my room while she tore at everyone in her sight. I was so used to being treated like a doll that when the world changed I knew nothing but fear for every step I took and every word I whispered. I began to grow hard and bitter myself. Not wanting to let anyone close to me, knowing without a doubt that they would hurt me. I wasn’t necessarily wrong either. Rape, betrayal, isolation and being used were just a few of the things that haunted me. I grew weak to a point where life no longer seemed worth it, and suicide attempts soon joined my list of woes. 

            But in classic novel form, I reached a climax of emotion and with it came an epiphany; the things I was doing were simply showing me to be just like my mother and the rest of her family. Weak and feeble minded. This isn’t what I wanted; I wanted to be strong and show that I could be more than they were that I could break the system. This discovery of self truly saved my life, and slowly I am learning to love myself again and to allow others to get close to me, while still maintaining a healthy wall of defense. In order to gain this strength in myself I had to learn that it was ok to not want to be like the rest of my family, that it was ok if I wanted more from my life than the misery they exude. 

It was no overnight journey either, and definitely not something I could handle myself. I tried turning to religion, thinking maybe God could give me the strength I needed, but it didn’t take me long to figure out that I was kidding myself; God wasn’t for me, I needed something else. I began to talk to my few friends about my problems and found that the more I talked the better things felt. I began seeing a counselor where I could divulge my mind in safety. I began to trust others and myself. I started the process of growing strong again. This is how I got to my current point in life, a point where I am a living example of how the apple can fall far, far from the tree.