My eyes slip closed and my head slips back with a soft thump against the concrete wall. I keep my eyes closed knowing all to well what I will see it is what my body feels right now. I want to open my mouth and say something, anything. I begin to make a sound and his large calloused hand clamps over my mouth sealing it. He leans in close to me, his breath warm against my ear and whisper “Don’t make a sound.” As if I could my mind reels the oxygen deprivation quickly becoming apparent. The bulge against my thigh grows a bit bigger as he rubs it against me. I shiver excitement and fear warring in my brain. I am certain that he can feel my heart pound through the thin t-shirt that I have on. The slowly moves off of my mouth and nose giving me a split second to gasp precious oxygen.
While I am still gasping for breath a forearm is slammed into my throat pinning me to the concrete wall behind me. The rough brick pushes painfully into my back and the forearm is crushing my ability to breath. The pressure of it keeps me pinned on the tips of my toes. If I don’t strain to touch the ground my feet would be off the floor and I would hang there in his grip choking. I feel him fumbling with something between us and realize suddenly that he is unbuckling his belt and trousers. His other hand reaches completely up under my skirt. I gasp as his rough fingers brush my over sensitive lips. He tilts his head up to look at me raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“Expecting someone?” He whispers so close to my ear that it is all I can do to not to lean into him. I shake my head my eyes going wide because I went without panties on a dare from a friend. His hand roams across my bare ass and gently caresses the folds of my lips, teasing me. I arch my back trying to get more contact between me and his had, my fear fading as quickly it began. He cupped his hand and slowly curled one finger against the most sensitive part of me. I turn my head away pushing my cheek against the brick at this violation and that my body is responding to it so enthusiastically. His newly freed cock twitches in excitement as it slides against my bare thigh. The silky and smooth skin makes me shudder in what could only be termed anticipation. I lean my head back pushing my body closer to that silken warmth. My eyes flutter closed as his fingers trace lazy circles around my clit making me want to scream, I barely notice a flash of sliver on the edge of my vision.
What is the next rush? When is the next time? When will I feel like this again? I sit and wait for it knowing that the next rush is right around the corner. I am trapped lately though. Stuck on the merry go round that just won’t stop and let me off. The cats chase the horses round and round until the spinning goes to my head and my eyes roll back. I doubt there is someone who can actually make my eyes roll back in my head but it is good to dream and it is the only time that I feel absolute freedom and hope.
I am not sure if I am tired because I am pushing myself or if I push myself because I am tired and hurts so bad that I can’t scream once because I will never stop. The truth is I guess I am just tired. I want to know that the things that I believe in are real but there is no proof. I don’t want to say that I won’t take anything on faith but I know too many people suffering right now. I know to many people screaming for death or screaming for life to take things on simple faith.
I explained the problem with me once before and I don’t think they quite got it. I am not right, there is something about me that screams when I try to be normal. When I don’t scream it drives me mad. “Down the rabbit hole Alice” A large part of me is dying slowly while the rest of me just hasn’t caught up yet. I could love but am no longer sure what that is in some ways I don’t think I ever did. The ones who I loved are all gone now and I am by myself in a house filled with people. If their kind of love is what brought me to this point then I am not sure I want to know what love is.
Ever see what is going to happen before it does?
Remember the blog post on things that cannot be unseen… yeah I live in that dark and sweaty world. It is extremely disconcerting because there is nothing that is comfortable about a juxapostian.
It was my idea and half way through it I found myself thinking that if I didn’t already plan on not surviving in the same form I am now I probably would take myself to the nearest highest bridge and jump off. I remember when he loved me and wanted to be around me. That is what makes it so horrible it would be different if I couldn’t remember or if it wasn’t so clear. I shouldn’t have gone there, I shouldn’t have sat there talking pouring my heart out to a person made of black glass just barely see through. I just didn’t realize that it would hurt so much. It is as if at any moment I am going to look down and I will have ripped out my own still beating heart from my chest. I can almost feel the slickness of the blood that still seems to pour out of it. I did this to myself and I can’t undo it. Before I get labeled an emo chick who is screaming whoa is me what I am talking about isn’t the teenage angst that is felt because of hormones but is no less real.
I thought that people stuck by each other when they loved one another. I thought if someone hurt a person you cared about you defended them. There was a time not so long ago that I would have stepped in front of a train to save the one life that I valued above all others and for some stupid reason I thought he felt the same about me. I feel deeper than most people. Feel stronger and bond tighter to those close to me.
When all of this started I thought that he would be there for me as I was for him every time he needed me. I did not expect what happened. Now as I sit alone as usual contemplating what went wrong I realize that the embedded carnival glass is moving under my skin again. It writhes and twitches like a living thing that wants out. For all I know it is alive and is willing to do what it can to break free of its prison just as I would be willing to do almost anything to break free of mine. Almost every avenue I have out is blocked. The last one came today when I found out the person I counted on the most had friends that hated me. With each passing thought the feeling gets worse.
You know the feeling that you feel when you just want to be home with your back against the wall tucked into a corner, just waiting? Just waiting to let out everything you’ve taken in that day. Feeling both desperate and relieved because nothing is wrong but nothing is right either, you are just so tired, tired of being nothing, tired of everything and you just want someone to tell you that it is ok. But no one is going to you know that from years of being kicked when you are down because no one can fix you. Tired of wanting tired of fixing yourself and everyone around you. Just once you want it to be simple to be helped to be saved but you know that’s not going to happen?
While reading over previous incarnations of introductions I realized that I have never actually properly introduced myself. These are the things that I keep meaning to say but somehow get lost when I get caught up in writing. In a way I wish you could see the world as I see it. I wish I could bring you into the splendor, beauty, and horror that is where my mind lives most of the time.
I try to bring you there I really do but it doesn’t always work out really well. This is where your comments come in. Even if it was just a hey I liked that description or I hated what you wrote they tell me that someone is at least thinking about what I write. I don’t ever delete them bad or good and with the exception of racial slurs I publish them all.
- I am completely crazy. Just when you think I am not you will notice something else that slides its slick slippery way into my writing and therefore into your mind. Come to think of it I like the thought of part of my mind writhing somewhere wet and dark in your head.
- I don’t know if I enjoy being crazy although some days are better than others.
- I want to die
So we have an open invitation to comment, rant, yell, scream, vent, talk, whisper, or scream and you have an open invitation to participate in killing another human who wants to be killed.
He said he would love me but was scared of the 1% of the time I was crazy. So he doesnt want me. Why does that bother me? Because I don’t want me. No one does.
Obsecro, mihi facultas videndi Deum angelis et demonibus – da mihi aliter vive – contra – O facultatem ad me, et audite obsecro ut interficias me, et pugnate pro eis vel.
Dieu s’il vous plaît me donner la possibilité de voir vos anges et les démons – me montrer une autre façon de vivre – lutter – s’il vous plaît m’aider et me donner la possibilité de voir et entendre les aider ou s’il vous plaît me tuer.
Gott gib mir bitte die Möglichkeit, Ihren Engel und Teufel zu sehen – zeigen Sie mir eine andere Art zu leben – zu kämpfen – bitte helfen Sie mir und geben mir die Fähigkeit zu hören und ihnen helfen, oder bitte töte mich zu sehen.
Ο Θεός παρακαλώ να μου δώσετε τη δυνατότητα να βλέπουν αγγέλους και διαβόλους σας – δείξτε μου έναν διαφορετικό τρόπο για να ζήσουν – για την καταπολέμηση της – παρακαλώ να με βοηθήσει και να μου δώσει τη δυνατότητα να δει ακούσει και να τους βοηθήσει ή μπορείτε να με σκοτώσει.
الله من فضلك أعطني القدرة على رؤية الملائكة والشياطين الخاص – تبين لي طريقة مختلفة للعيش – لمحاربة – الرجاء مساعدتي وتعطيني القدرة على رؤية نسمع ومساعدتهم أو يرجى قتلي.
मुझे मार दें.
obsecro ut interficias me.
I offer to let you use me in any way that you want – no request is too strange or unusual. I would love for you to do to me what pops into that wonderfully wicked brain of yours.
Ever wonder why… every wonder what I want in return. As it turns out not a whole lot. I just want to tie you down and find out what makes you scream in pleasure… and if I can’t have that pain… but what I truly want is to find where the two meet for you, where they become one inside of you. I want to shatter you into millions of kaleidoscope pieces where the jagged pieces of you slice into my flesh embedding themselves into my flesh so that I can carry a piece of you with me all the time. I want to crack your chest open and crawl inside to curl around your heart, so I can listen to your heart beat from the inside and feel its deadly rhythm beating all around me.
I don’t understand why my mind does what it does or comes up with what it sees. Some are brilliant inventions and I know exactly how they work and some are dark and twisted things that kill when you look directly at them. Mad killer I wait until you decide I am your victim, someone who just wanted to know what it is like to kill than I invite you to try it with the complete disclaimer that I asked you to and the estate will take care of your legal fees.
Rule number 1 Always have an exit strategy
Rule number 2 When you start to make your self think that you are crazy you probably are
Rule number 3 When you can no longer cope use the exit strategy
When pain outweighs the ability to cope then it is time not stop struggling to cope
When you want to scream scream. when you want to cry cry you know where this is heading I really am not sure that I am going to survive this.
As I curl in my living prison watching the leaves that shielded me all day I realize that it is happening again. The reason why I live my life in this desolate land of twisted images and all things sharp and dangerous. Sometimes I am ok and can peak out into the world, the real world. It usually isn’t long before the mask slams down over my features forcing a smile that never quite reaches my eyes. My frayed and fractured world is safe behind the walls inside me.
Most of the time I can function in both worlds, the one of pain and pleasure, and the real one with the people in it. Then there are times that I can’t. I can feel it happening like something blooming deep inside my chest. I can feel the darkness spread seeping through the organs and bone more efficient than the spread of the most aggressive cancer and the darkness is twice as deadly.
This is not new. This is not different. This does not change. I can only hide from it for so long before I start to slip. This is just the beginning. I know it will get worse, I know how bad it will hurt, and I know what my body will scream for. I always hope it won’t come back, always hope that it is gone for good, and I can hide in my world letting the architects of this existence build their strange constructs.
People say that it will pass, and that I shouldn’t think about it. These phrases along with cheer up make me wonder what the person saying it looks like without skin or better yet choking on their own tongue.
The question that is always asked is “Are you homicidal or Suicidal?” I have always wondered what would happen if I grinned at the person asking and answered with the truth “Both.” Something in my eyes always keeps them from asking – it also keeps the people close to me from pushing me too far for fear of me snapping which one day will happen.
I watch the horizon carefully waiting for what I dread is coming. I can almost see the crystalline shine on the glimmering black sand. Just as when the green and blue moons recede pulling their lovely soft colour from the shimmering sand I know what is coming. The twin moons give way to twin suns blazing against the darkness in all of their red hot glory. They make the sand shimmer and dance or maybe that is just a trick of the heat. I watch as the light begins to creep across the sand making the shadows scream and dance away wishing I could do the same. The same light that makes the sands shine blue, purple, and oil slick black makes burns white hot despite their copper burning green and branding iron white colours. I glance over to the the X the architects work desperately to hide from view. The cross rises shining black above the sand. It gleams as the sunlight creeps closer to it. For a moment I watch and wonder if I will see charred remains as the light grows. I glance quickly away as my eyes fall on the gleaming misshapen white skulls of those who have gone before me. Some with horns and some horribly disfigured in unimaginable ways.
There are some things that I just don’t want to know. My eyes focus on the cross for a moment longer trying to discern whether or not he still hangs from the cross before the blinding sun forces me to retreat further into my prison. I can already hear the living bars expanding behind me, their molded black leaves creeping out to shield me from the suns’ horrific rays. I know that they will grow, flower, and fall before the twin suns set leaving me with stark thorned branches once again.
I begin to lower my eyes but not before I hear it a soft whimper carried on the hot wind and wonder if it is only my imagination.
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