I'm back.
I'm back where I have always belonged, where I probably always will belong. With Jewel and the Martins in SC (yes Jewel, I'm going to stay with you forever).
I got here yesterday, after a very long car ride from home, and was very excited to immediately set out on horseback to the church soccer game. The game was pretty awesome- I hadn't played in two years, but it started to all come back to me. I even kicked the ball a few times XD
By the time we got home, I was tired and already sore, so we sort of fell into bed and went to sleep. Early this morning we woke up, did the chores (that is to say, Jewel did the chores and I played with my filly, Lilybet. I love her), saddled up Blaze and Giselle and headed down to DHEC (Dancing Horses Equestrian Center), where Jewel took a few horses through their paces, and Blaze and I got reacquainted (and he remembered that I'm boss.). We took Blaze and another pony (Jewel's show pony) through the course (Well, I loped Blaze around while she did some jumps, then we took them both through the water), which ended up being very interesting.
We came home for a few minutes, grabbed some food, and then headed out to Cameron's, where I mucked out the barn while Jewel took the horses out, and then we both cleaned the paddocks.
Now we're both home. Well, that's not true. I'm home, she went to one more place and then she'll be home. Right now everyone is leaving for the meal at the prison, and me and Gwen are going to be home alone until Jewel gets back.
Tata for now ;)

Staring at screens
Reading long books that have no words
At least
I don't really see them
I watch a show
But it doesn't make sense
To me
Because
I don't really
Hear
Anything
Nothing at all.
At school, we learn about
The Holocaust.
It's ok.
Until we get to the images.
The images are what break me.
Not because
Of some gore
Not the emaciated bodies
But it's the screams
It's the voices. The
voices
That scream
That cry out to me
I hear them in my head
They won't stop.
No one else hears them.
They sit there like
This is normal
That they see this
Everyday
Like there is nothing to hear.
Do they not hear them?
Do they not hear the screams?
Can they not understand the
Pleas
The voices
Begging for help?
Once they realize you can hear them
Once they realize you
Can understand them
They will not leave you alone.
They will flood your dreams
With so many colors
(Mainly red)
They will blast their emotions
(Mostly pain and fear)
They will dance to the music
(Music of the guns)
And they won't be still
Until you force them away with
Music.
Music that is so loud it hurts your ears.
You close your eyes
Tightly, now,
And begin to mouth the words.
Focus on the song.
Forget the world
Outside
Your ears exists
Forget the world
Inside
Your very ears can speak
Focus only on the music
That alone will keep the
Masses silent
That alone will make them
Shut up.
Feel the beat.
Let it be so loud
That it rocks you.
It becomes the heart
Of the body.
Let it be your
Driving force.
The thing that
Keeps you alive, the
Thing that protects you.
Don't feel guilty.
You should.
But don't. Don't let it
Take over, don't
Let it tell you
You were
Wrong.
If you look at pictures
And they begin screaming
Scream back at them
Tell them to leave you alone.
They won't,
But it's worth a shot.
And we all say you're crazy.
You say
I'm crazy.
You will not listen
But I know.
I know what I know.
I know what I have been through.
And you don't want it.
But neither do I want
It to go away.
I wouldn't wish
This on my worst enemy.
But I will not part
With this curse.
I don't know
Why it happened to me.
I don't know
Why I want it.
But I will
Not
Part
With it.

Lately I've been on some sort of reading marathon in an effort to forget my problems for a little while- escape into the world of murder mysteries or the euphoric lands of unicorns and faeries or even dive down to the underworld to explore unknown regions with dark haired, blue eyed vamps who don't know when I attatch myself to their shadow as they fight a werewolf.
I seem to be on a muder mystery trend right now, reading the Cat Who books. I just emerged from the world of Orson Scott Card- and I thouroughly enjoyed Seventh Son and Red Prophet. I find he writes with a certain humor that makes me giggle out loud in class- and not many books can do that. They might get a smile out of me, but it is a talented writer that can make me laugh.
My latest book, one in the aforementioned The Cat Who series -The Cat Who Turned On and Off- is particularly interesting. I enjoy trying to solve the case before Qwill does, and I might have the answer. I've learned, in watching crime shows and reading books, that the most likely suspect is usually not the guy that did it, even when all evidence points to him/her. Innocent until proven guilty!
Qwill's cats are my favorite animals in any story so far- KoKo and Yum Yum are two siamese cats who are smarter than your average housecat. And, of course, as normal cats, you cannot own them. As Qwill so perfectly puts it: "No one can ever own a cat. You share a common habitation on a basis of equal rights and mutual respect...although somehow the cat always comes out ahead of the deal." (Page 128, paragraph 5)
Its so true!! The way cat's arch their backs, and look down on you no matter what you do. And you always seem to be on their schedule.
A few months ago, I was priveledged to be able to borrow the most remarkable Holocaust book, The Book Theif. This has definetly got to be the most astounding and intellectual book written about the Holocaust that I have ever read. It is written from the perspective of a Hitler Youth member, a Jew, and two conflicted parents. The interesting twist on this, however, is that it is narrated by Death himself. The glorious, terrifying, wonderful moster that all life fears but has no reason to, tells this story of love, loss, and lessons in forgiveness. However, contrary to what it sounds like, this book is not morbid at all.
It's one of those books where you look up after finishing and you wonder how the rest of the world can go on normally. It has the habit of sneaking into your dreams at night and you feel what every character feels. The desperate hope of freedom, of safety, and the horror of dangers.
Once you are finished with that book, come back here and let me know if you can live your life like a normal person.

"When I was a kid
I had a friend.
He scared me, often,
And I never knew how much
I loved him.
How much
I'd miss him.
His name was
The Boogey Man.
He was the monster under
My bed.
He smiled at me, but
I thought it was
A sneer.
He frightened me and often
I dove for
Safety
Under my covers.
And then I
Grew up.
Sadly.
The Boogey Man
Cried,
The day that I looked
Him straight in the eye
Without
A
Flinch.
You see, even
Though it hurt him
When I was afraid,
At least it was
Some form of
Acknowledgement
For the lonely soul.
But now I was
Gone.
The little girl
That hugged stuffed
Animals,
Couldn't sleep without them,
Was
Gone.
And The Boogey Man,
The wise
Boogey Man,
Knew
It was
A
Very
Bad
Thing.
The Boogey Man knew
That if she grew up
This
Fast
That she would not
Be ready
For his cousins,
Life
And
Hell.
They were cruel
And showed no mercy
To anyone
Young
Old
Innocent.
But The Boogey Man,
The kind
Boogey Man
Knew
That even though
She had been afraid
Of him
She probably wasn't now.
So
He visited.
Sometimes every night
Sometimes once
A month.
But always
When she
Needed
Him.
When she was sad
He would stand
By her bed
When she was
Worried
Or
Stressed
He would sit
Quietly on the floor
Or play
Peek-a-boo
From under the bed (his old haunt during her innocence)
She couldn't always
See him
But she knew
That he was
There.
And the knowing...
It was enough.
It was enough
That someone,
Even an
Invisible
Childhood Terror
Cared enough
To
Try
To take her
Back
To childhood
Even if for a day."

I've gotten to a point in my life where I am having a really hard time finding something to write about. Not much is going on in my life right now, honestly, other than the normal hurried business trying to find out what classes I'm taking online for early graduation. That's right, I got approved by the head honcho himself, and I'm gong to busy...extremely busy, for the next year and a few months of my life.

I think I'm going to have to learn pretty quickly how to juggle a semi-social life, a gorgeous, handsome, kind guy with a perfect relationship, regular school days and abnormal nights and weekends. Oh, and did I mention a job?

It's going to be insane. But I'll try.

Oh jeez. The Zero Period next year. You know, that's really gonna suck. I'm gonna have to get up even earlier...ugh.

Anyway, enough griping. I'm happy to be graduating early, graduating with my rightful class and my boyfriend so that we can go to college together and stay together and live our lives together. I can't wait to walk across that stage in a black and purple gown and get that diploma I've worked hard for.

In other news, I talked to my man, and we agreed that I can get some tattoos. 3, to be exact. My first one is going to be on my left side, about 2 inches above my hip. Sanskrit for "A Beautiful Mistake." It's going to represent my relationship with Christian, along the same lines as "You must be a fool to fall in love" kind of thing. The second is going to be on the bottom of my left wrist-I found a really cool tatt of a treble and a bass clef in one, so I'm going to get a small one of that. The third and last one is going to be a Celtic Knot on my right shoulder.

Mom is cringing, but she's letting me do it because she knows I'm actually serious about it and I've been thinking about it for 3 years now...PLUS I'm getting things that mean something to me, not just getting stuff cause it's cool. I'm being smart about it...and I'm doing something that makes me happy. As mom put it, at least I'm not begging to gauge my ears any more :P No offense against gauges...they're fantastic. Just not for me.

I'm also thinking about getting a bike. A motorcycle. My dream bike would be a Yamaha R6...but it doesn't have to be that. And it's NEVER going to be a Harley. I hate Harleys.

Well, I think that just about sums it up for my life right now. I'll try to come up with something to write about soon. For now, signing off...

I was having doubts.

I was doubting myself, my boyfriend, and our ability to stick this out and make it work. I was afraid. I was so afraid of losing yet another person.

And then last night happened. He invited me over late at night to hang out with him and his sister, who was home from college on break. I got a ride over, wondering how tonight was gonna go, if it would end up bad.

He pulled me inside and kissed me, then walked me over to the dining room with his arm around me to say hi to his dad and sister. We all sat down to watch a video about a magician…and truth me told I was a little disappointed because I didn’t want to share my man. Again.

See, I see him every day at school. But there are always administrators around, always kids who have the dirtiest minds and always want to know if we’ve had sex yet or when we’re having sex and they think all we do is have sex.

And seeing him at school just isn’t enough for me.

But here I was again, sharing him. I shouldn’t feel this way, not at all. I shouldn’t be upset that he’s happy to see his sister and talking to her more than me. But I am. And that makes me angry. Angry at myself.

His dad ended up going to bed, and I stayed until 2 AM.

And it was one of the best nights of my life. Every doubt was put to rest. Every single fear I had was driven away. After those first few minutes, he was all mine. We hid in the kitchen for probably half an hour, alternating between him giving me the most gorgeous necklace I have ever owned (a diamond/sterling silver heart), talking about awkward things and kissing and discussing fighting techniques (and yes, he made me mad and I punched him. He didn’t hit back, bless his heart, even though I wish he had). After I punched him, I convinced him to ‘spar’ with me, which really only consisted of me trying to hit him and him blocking me. The longer it went on, the more angry and frustrated I became. But every punch was helping me let off steam from months of frustration and fury that hitting walls and refrigerators wasn’t helping me with. I gave him a few bruises, and my hand swelled up pretty big. I fight with my right hand mostly, the left I use for blocking. I don’t know where I learned that or why I fight like that. I always have. He let me have a few good hits, and every time I felt my heart break. I hated hitting him, but I had to. If I didn’t, I was going to go crazy.

People tell me to pull up trees or hit pillows or something when I’m angry, but that doesn’t work for me. I feel stupid because the damn thing won’t hit back. And then I feel like a coward, and that makes me angry at myself. Its a viscous cycle.

Afterwards we curled up on the couch together and talked about what movies to watch, whether his cat liked me or not, and I can’t remember what else. I do remember getting spoiled rotten by an amazing foot massage.

We headed upstairs (Oh God now I’ve done it) and laid back on a pile of pillows to finish talking. And to cuddle. He doesn’t like cuddling and long hugs like I do…I need them. I feel fixed when I get long hugs from him. But he dislikes them, so he never gives them and I never asked because I didn’t want him to do something that he didn’t enjoy. But once he realized this, things changed. For the better.

“Hey,” I said, “I want some cuddles SillyBoy.”

“You have them,” he said, and wrapped me up in the warmest, longest hug/cuddle I have ever had.

While he massaged my back for 20 minutes, we ended up talking about things we had previously disagreed on. Homeschooling, parenting methods…and found out that things had changed for both of us. We were willing to bend on things for each other. And his viewpoints had changed as well.

We were laying on the pillows on the floor, not saying anything, when an old lullaby came into my head and wouldn’t go away, so I hummed my own rendition of it very quietly, eventually letting it flow into another song I’d learned as a kid. When I finished, I looked over at the handsome man I had unknowingly sung to sleep snoring on my arm (which was losing feeling fast) and I was amazed that I could ever have doubted him. Or us.

He was mine again.

Or maybe, I was just over my extremely emotional time of the month.

"When did my dreams become my worst enemy?
When did the one I love become the one I hate?
When did I decide that hell was my heaven,
That peace was war and hate and evil?
What happened to the kid
That hid in mortal fear from the demons
That haunted her dreams and told her of things to come?
Now she stands and welcomes them
Now she tells people around her what will happen
Now she can communicate in way unnatural
What happened to the skinned knees
What happened to the boogey man?
I think I miss him- he was my best friend
Although I didn't know it.
What happened to the dreams of a prince
What happened to the dreams that I had
They're gone...
They saw the monster inside of me and ran
Now I'm gathering up the pieces of the heart
That was beating in my hand and I'm wondering
Did I squeeze it too hard?"