Thursday, August 4, 2016

The dead ringer of my reflection (pc:me)

     His eyes were as piercing as skyscrapers; easy to fall into and riveting me to new heights.
His chiseled jaw could slit glass, but just like glass, things shatter. It was easy to justify how we came to be. He practically oozed  sweet kindness from every fiber in his soul.   After being puppeteered through the worst relationship in my life, he fit the part of a doctor prescribing an unknowing script for my heart. He seemed to be able put band aids on all my wounds, but some wounds are deeper than others. As you know, a band aid can only cover up the afflicting agony, but it was revealing. I was always my best self with him. It was hard to make it work, but I knew I would regret losing it.

     Compared to the other, he was the real mirror. The other was more of a fun house amusement park, where I could only see pixelated, blown up out of proportion images, but he was different. It always goes back to glass. The truth was.... I could see a future with him and most importantly, a better version of myself.  But I let go too soon when I ran scared.
   
     Titanic had nothing on me. Like an iceberg hitting, I hit bare ground. I let all the many good things sink from my thoughts and slip through my fingers. Once I realized what despair I was about to face, it was too far to grasp.  There were so many moments that I wanted to relive and summon my courage to rekindle the fire, but it couldn't be rewritten. He was moving and what was left of the mirror was too hard to put back together. Scratch that. It wasn't even recognizable. I was unrecognizable. With my best self gone, I gulped down this bitter pill and looked for acceptance. I had messed up. Majorly. With regrets for the rest of my life.

Monday, August 1, 2016

First Loves Kinda suck (pc:me)

What I come to realize is to take the horrific with a grain of a salt. Or in this case, another fifty cents entry at a bus stop used up to take you somewhere else. No, that's not what you're worth metaphorically. I learned that hard way. Ahh, my first boyfriend, Glen Flecher. I shouldn't have to say his real name because I didn't think of it to be a real relationship. Well, yes it was of the relationship category, but mostly exaggerated memories that turned my floated shadows into insecurities later down the line. I had never really understood what love was. I kept assuring myself that it was. Three simple words made me question everything that was supposed to be anything. I had pretended to be something I wasn't and in that cloud of thinking I became just that. A dark cloud of my worst impurities. A dark cloud full of shattered glass that if you look enough away, it would have never caught your eye. A dark cloud surrounded by dead sheep that could no longer prance in my dreams .Like a picture in the dark without flash, my flash was gone. I had crumbled into expectations that were slowly making my cloud push farther into the sun. I was me, but was I really?

 While everyone bit their tongue, I swallowed mine. Leaving nothing to do but to drown in a pit of hallow silence. I had tried once to escape this drought of rain but each time another storm came barreling in. Except the storm was much more than your typical weather. In Fact, the only weather that occurred was figuring out whether or not to keep fighting for air in a ocean with nothing but blood thirsty piranhas. I could not sea the tipping point. It seemed like a never ending spear. Not like ancient Indians used to kill their pray. Mine had multiple points which therefore came with multiple pray. Each pray being each boundary I crossed that led me farther away to safe territory. Except the hunting wasn't of my choosing. I was not the predator as it would seem. There's always at least one person higher than you on the food chain waiting to watch you slip up into their unbreakable net. Or, so I thought.

 Much like a cobra, my first boyfriend thought there were very few creatures that could obtain him with his slimy spit,scaley presence, and fangs. Like shedding a second skin, he shed another impression on me. At first, I thought he was just misunderstood and the fangs were just for show in tell, but I learned later of his true meaning. The truth is that I had overlooked many of these poisons because I always looked the other way every time he was out for another species to dine on, but time after the next he would always say he preferred something else to eat. Never specified what. I'm not sure he really knew. Just never thought any would be good enough for such a caliber of his tastings. That was the thing, he never tasted his food as soon as he killed it. He never appreciated what he had until it was gone. I acted like a shriveled mouse clinging on to him to try to establish a relationship that could not come to be. 

It wasn't until later I became my real nature. A mongoose. A mammal that could always be ready on their toes and dodge the attacks. This taught me to respect myself and not hold back. I was finally gaining the puzzle pieces back , but one piece seemed to be missing. While fighting for survival, I had lost a sacred internal possession. I started to question if this was really just a test. One with only one answer. One pearl in a world full of oysters. I started to unravel a string so tightly wound it left a scar. A scar inhabited by the shape of tentacles. Like I had been clinging on to some misfortune. I needed to be independent so I wouldn't have to cling on to dear life. This perhaps was the last piece. I had to trust others in order to let go. I had to let my eight tentacles, my eight excuses swim away from the blank ink.

The way I see it, it gives you experience, so take a risk because as corny as it sounds, there is a light at the end of tunnel.


Hey There Human

I'm Leslie and I'm not afraid to tell you the truth to my madness. I go with the flow. Sometimes I'm deep and other times I'm spunky. Puns are what I do best! I state my view point , but I don't mean to hate on anyone. Welcome to my page!:)))