Blank Screen

She was sitting at the keyboard, yet again, staring at the cursor blinking. She had so much to say yet she could find no where to start. She closed her eyes and sighed as images flashed vividly behind her closed lids. Yes, there was much to be externalized, and not enough hours in the day to get it all out on paper.

Her insecurities bubbled to the surface everytime she started the sentence. She couldn't quite figure out where to start. The past few months had been a blur and she couldn't quite focus her energy where she needed it. She kept skipping around in her mind and the screen remained blank. Did she start with the first impression? Did she start with their first conversation? Did she start with reaching a point where he was the last thing on her mind at night and the first thing to cross her mind in the morning?

He made her completely comfortable and yet completely uncomfortable with herself. She was in a new league, more like in over her head, and she was confused. It was so easy to talk to him. Typically she looked away from people who looked her straight in the eye, played the part of I'm looking at you too, without ever actually having to do so. However, she couldn't quit looking him in the eye. It made her uncomfortable, sent to flight the butterflies, and yet, it felt like home. He could often ask her anything and she would answer without hestiation. He felt she held back, but comparatively, she let him know far more than he would ever realize.

She tried not to watch him, but something about him always made her hyperaware of where he was. It disturbed her, and she tried to distract herself when he was around so she wouldn't notice the small things, but it never helped. Almost like a presense, his was somehow tied to hers. She could almost feel him enter a room,  before seeing him, which was beyond uncomfortable for her.

They had remained on either side of the table, never too close, never too far, but always refraining from crossing each others space. At first, she thought he was irritated by her in general. Yet, the more time they spent around each other, the easier it became to push the boundary. She knew once the line was crossed it would be hell to draw it again.

She chewed on her bottom lip and tapped the pencil in her hand. As she stared at he screen comtemplating what to type, the tap - tap - tap of the pencil helped her to concentrate on where to begin. Should she type the reality which was boring and dull and full of electricity? Or, should she type her dreams, her fantasies, which were full of excitement, full of lust, full of secret meetings, and sideways stares and just as charged with electricity? She was so lost in thought, she hadn't heard the door open or even close again. It was not until the warm furry body rubbed against her ankle dangling from the chair that she jumped out of her seat and almost out of her body, that she realized how lost she had been in the images and possibiliy of him.

She reached down, picked up Rum, and set him in her lap while she stared forward at the screen. She continued to watch the cursor blink as she scratched Rum absently behind the ears. She pet him down the full length of his body, then picked him up from her lap and set him down on the floor. She continued to rub him with her foot while mindlessly tapping with the pencil.

Her fantasies flashed before her eyes. He had her on the desk and was kissing her slowly. His hands on her face, in her hair, and down her back. He would pull her close, then lean her back to stare at her a moment before kissing her lips again. In another, he had walked in behind her and suddenly she felt his body behind hers, his lips at her ear, and his arms encircling her. The images sent a rush of heat through her body and crimson to her cheeks. Her skin was tingling and the butterflies had taken to flight in her stomach again. She marveled at how just imagining him could have such an effect on her. She pondered what it would be like to actually cross that line, to have him hold her in his arms,  to feel his lips on hers, to feel his full body next to hers, what effect would that have on her. She wondered would she ever be free of the images once the line was crossed.

Again she stared at the blank screen before her. She knew she had work to complete, but the block was so etched, she couldn't break through. She picked up her phone, her keys, grabbed a light jacket, gave Rum another quick scratch, and left the apartment for a walk to clear her head. Maybe the fresh night air would allow her a break from the images that refused to leave her mind and continued to consume her thoughts.

Drive

The drive home was peaceful. It was dark and no other cars existed on the two lane curvy road. The fog was light, from the rain earlier in the day, and the moon was half.  There seemed to be a fair amount of stars but the missing of some lead to the belief there was cloud cover. The radio blared and she drove faster than needed, but she was too lost in thought to focus on all things driving at the same time.
His lips were soft and his kiss always tasted of mint. Often, she wanted to tell him to spit out the gum, but the sweetness was welcome. She couldn't get the taste of him out of her mind. As she drove, she remembered the feel of his lips on hers. She felt his torso between her thighs. She could recall the look in his eyes. All of this sent butterflies to flight in her stomach.
As the vivid image of his hand between her legs flashed before her eyes, she instantly went wet again. She wanted every inch of him. She wanted to touch every part of his body, to drink it in with her eyes, to lay beside him and feel his warmth. She wasn't excited about a few quick stolen moments, she wanted to know all of him, and that scared her more than she was willing to admit. She had already allowed him deeper into her than she let most people, and that left her open and vulnerable. She wanted to close the door and run away before he could get any closer or delve any deeper into her closed exterior. She didn't have the strength yet to leave.
The road continued before her and she was ready to be home. The bag in the passenger seat contained concoctions enough to help her numb her senses. At this moment, she wanted nothing more than to be numb. She wanted to forget about the look he had when their eyes locked. She wanted to forget about the feel of his hands on her thighs. She wanted to forget about his soft lips on hers and the feel of his tongue in her mouth. She wanted to forget it all and just be numb.
Too soon the drive ended as she pulled into the garage. She quickly exited the vehicle, walked around and removed the bag along with her personal belongings and made her way into the kitchen. She set the bag down on the counter. She grabbed a cold one as she placed the rest in the fridge, and popped the top. Much too soon the contents were gone and she poured herself a mixed drink. As she swallowed deeply, she thought to herself, she would feel this tomorrow.
She sank into the recliner as her phone buzzed notifying her of a message. Her heart skipped, but as she looked at it, it was from a friend. She had hoped it was him,but knew better. She responded to the message and sent out a few others to see if she could catch a few bites. She had been so wrapped up in work lately, she had completely abandoned her social life. She felt sure the welcome distraction of old friends was needed to help replace some of the time she currently monopolized on him. About that time, the cat came from his normal corner and wrapped himself around her legs. She reached down to pet him and he climbed into her lap. She answered a few more text messages, finished her drink, then went to the bedroom to shower. As she undressed, she allowed herself once more to think back to memories of the two of them together. It bothered her she couldn't seem to get him out of her head. It bothered her more that her body screamed at the memories as if they were happening, and to know he had that type of physical power over her. She stepped into the water and felt it wash over her. She closed her eyes as she allowed the water to wash over her face and again she felt the stir of the butterflies as the look in his eyes, and softness of his lips came to memory again. She quickly turned and opened her eyes, as to concentrate more on the task at hand. As she washed her body, she felt his hand in place of her own, and the shivers ran through her. She finished quickly and turned the water off before stepping out to wrap a robe around herself. She worked on drying off her body and applying lotion. She dressed and went back to the kitchen to make another drink. On her way back to the bedroom, she picked up her phone. She climbed in bed, set down her drink, turned on the television, and looked at her phone when her heart skipped and her breath caugh. He had messaged. She took a drink before settling in to decide what to do next.

Freestyle - March 24 2005

May 24, 2005

freestyle

Current mood:thoughtful

I walked outside Sunday night. I was going to town to return movies that were due back Saturday. It was a beautiful spring night and would have been dark if not for the luminous glow of the full moon, which instantly caught my attention. A full moon, contributor to people acting at odds with themselves. More so than just the beauty of the moon being full, I noticed that it had a ring around it. Usually a sign of trouble. I began to think, "what could the trouble be this time?" 

The last time I had seen a ring around the full moon had been the night of the first time Chris and I had gone out. It was a wonderful night, an unforgettable night. It was a hot summer night, I was dressed in shorts, t-shirt and sneakers, he in a pair of jeans, boots and a t with no sleeves. We drove for hours that night. It was wonderful. Hell, we even stopped by my moms house at midnight that night. That was the night we were suppose to go swimming but he chickened out, no more than 5 feet from the water. I still laugh thinking back, oh, we had wonderful times together. But the start of our relationship was the marked by the omen of that moon the first time we went out. It was happy and wonderful, but nothing but trouble.

My relationship was Chris was so unlike my last, well, whatever one might call it. This last one was nothing more than loneliness. Trying to move on from someone who had made me so happy, I stumbled upon someone who brought not much more than misery. I was used, but at the same time, it was karma, for I was doing nothing more than using him. I am still nursing some wounds from that one, but the healing is definitely moving forward. I finally received closure from it, and I am moving on. The pain has disappeared, it is little more than an odd numbing sensation.
I question the ideas some people have. As a mother, I want nothing short of the best for my children, and granted, I might not have a lot of money at current. Hell, lets be honest, I am living at poverty level. I am a single mother of 2 wonderful boys, a full time college student, but I do work. In less then two years, I will have my bachelors degree in accounting with more than 2 years experience. I will be living above the norm. Social status is about money, but it's also about the way a person thinks, their actions, and what they are doing to better themselves. I grew up poor, white trash many would say, but I have always held my head high, and lived my life better than that. I am not a trashy person. I have standards, and often get criticized for my champagne taste on beer budget. But, as a mother, I would most definitely expect my boys to chose someone of such integrity, instead of trying to set them up with someone who the mentality of white trash.

I am beginning to ramble. I am more or less just venting. I am happy today. Happier than I have been in a five months. I miss Chris, but there will be others down the line who will treat me just as well, if not better. What I miss the most about him, I could act like I was 15 again, and never get criticized for it, he stood beside me doing the same thing. He made me laugh and never made me feel less than what I was. Everyone should be so lucky.

Light and Dark

I have come to the conclusion that some people are born in the light. The live their life in the sun with the warmth on their skin, a smile on their face, and love around them. These people often don't realize just how blessed they truly are, but somehow they are always humble of their good fortune. These people often try to share with everyone around them the happiness, joy, and general light in their life. Most of these people do not try to cause harm to others nor do they enjoy seeing others hurt. They live their lives in a bubble not knowing there is a much harder, crueler reality around them. These are the people for which I try to keep a smile on my face.
I am not one of these people. I am not trying to say I live in the dark, perhaps I live in-between the light and dark. I think, if I am truly comparing light and dark, the dark would be those who live in misery and pain, who seek to destroy those around them. They do this to try to keep themselves from hurting. They feel that if they tear down someone else, they won't feel so alone and hurt, lost to the sun, they live in the night.
I like to think I live in the shadows and occasionally flit through the land of light. I am not angry or aggressive to those who have such "light" lived. Someone needs to be happy for them, to understand for them that the life they lead is very blessed and not had by all. I am very happy for these people. These people of "light" give me hope that one day, maybe, just maybe, I can leave the shadows behind and live in light and love and happiness.
I do not live in aggression but I live in pain. I live in the pain of not knowing a love beyond my children's. I live in pain of often trying to give my heart and receiving nothing back, or worse, having it returned with no intent of ever treating me "right." I live in pain of the love I wanted and never had, from a small child, the love my parents could not or would not provide. I live in pain of my experiences which would have sunk a might lighter happier person than I. Instead, I learned to swim instead of drown in my sorrows. I live in pain and therefore, I live in the shadows. One day, maybe, or maybe not, I will have someone hold me, and claim to love me, ME, only they won't claim, they actually will. They will hold my heart close and know it has been damaged, and it is fragile, and they will heal it with the perfection they are. This faith, however fairy tale it maybe, is what keeps me and my history and my broken battered self from turning to the dark instead of standing at the edge of the shadows.
One day when I realize no matter what, it will never exist for me, I will shed a tear, I will square my shoulders and I will walk willingly to the dark and wilt away until I am gone. I am not built for the dark, but I can not live in the light without love.