So Alone...

I'm not sure where I am right now. I just know I'm there alone. I know there are people all around that love me and whom I love. I know I have close friends, I have relatives, an incredible mother, and step mother. I know they are all around, but wherever I go, whenever I go... I go alone.

I go grocery shopping and I look around at all these people. They are deciding what goes in the cart, together. I miss bumping into him in the aisle. I miss cooking for more than myself. Because I'm sorry, but shit doesn't come in small enough packages for that... and when it does you have to pay extra for it. What kind of bullshit is that? I miss looking over and knowing there is someone beside me to help pick me up, dust me off, and laugh with me when I make an ass of myself.

But maybe this is all just a phantom reality. Did I really ever have those moments? Some I think I did, some I think I just dreamt up, and others I long for from what I've found on television and movies.

I'm struggling within myself to stay on this path. I feel entirely alone. So alone sometimes... I can't even stand myself. I fight the Social Anxiety Disorder. But more than that, I fight myself because I miss feeling like someone is always there with me.

I gave up my marriage, because although I loved him so deeply, I didn't feel we were the right fit. Unfrotunately, it took me a bit too long to realize that and a lot of pain for both of us, but it was an inevitable truth we would either face now... or down the line when there would be kids involved. I made the choice to have now be the time (a few months ago), but it really doesn't get easier losing my best friend. Him presenting me with divorce papers has made that even more clear to me. I regret the way things played out, for both of us. I wish I could have spared him more.

Then I had my step brother around. He is staying with me for a short while and through both of our lonelinesses we found some comfort in eachother. Memorial Day we walked alone together at the lake, kind of quiet, half talking about the places we wished we could be, and even more the people we wished we were sharing them with. Time has passed and the space between us grows and shrinks just like the events of our lives. He is still here, but we aren't sown together in the same loneliness.

Then I found my roommate. Through my childhood I had found so many friends. It was almost always one at a time. It was frantic, almost an obsession as seven year olds commonly do. Loving a common song, riding the same bus, giggling at the same dippled smiling boy. But they always were fleeting. I moved a lot and so many, many of my friendships were lost to relocation. But some were lost for other reasons, too. I don't know why I can't seem to hold onto anyone. Now her. Our friendship crashed over us like a thick downpour of rain. We both embraced the warmth and similarity we found in eachother. And, as always, it appears it might be transient. I feel I may be trying to latch on in a losing battle.

All this loneliness is not for nothing though. I do need this space. I sleep with guys but none of them stay. It is a frenzied attempt at feeling attached, I fear. I mean, don't get me wrong, sex is no doubt pleasurable. But what if all I really want is that connection, that closeness, even for a moment. I'm surely not finding it. There are a few I see incredible potential with, if I ever get to actually meet them. But I still don't believe I am ready, so I need to stand my ground. I guess, I should be thankful they barely have time for me. Thankful that I am still able to take this lesson and not latch on.

I am alone because I gave myself away far too early. Everyone says to love yourself, to enjoy yourself, be one on your own not just for another... before you can love another. I never loved me. I enjoy things, but I seem to always rush to enjoy what they enjoy first. I surely, am not one on my own. Or at least I wasn't. I am trying to be good at being me so that I can make a good us someday.

I miss my soldier so much, but this time he is deployed is possibly the best thing either of us could hope for if we ever hope to make a future. I have to learn to be happy on my own. I am trying, dearly! I paint, I dance, I sing, I workout... but I am lonely. My therapist suggests I use the relationships of loved ones to keep me grounded. I try that too, but I am definitely not one for reaching out. I think maybe my hand was slapped one too many times. But I am regrowing my strength there, as well.

I guess, I just want to know I'm doing the right thing. This loneliness is killing me in some senses and making me stronger in others. Am I doing the right thing? Why does it feel so goddamned difficult? How do I keep reminding myself to stay strong?

A Super Power??

A friend of mine asked me to join a fun little movement... Synchroblogging. The main idea here is several people doing a blog on the same theme. The blog theme this time is which super power you would have if you could have one.

I think if I had to choose a super power I'd want to know when people are lying. I know this wasn't an option, really, but it is what would be most beneficial to me and the people I love. So if I can't have super human strength to go along with the super power, I'll just take being a human lie-detector.

I thought, of course, of possibly seeing through things. That is such a tempting super power for me. I love looking at men and women honestly. But I would hate manipulating anything in such a fashion. Let alone the privacy violation. I've known too much of this myself to put anyone else through it.

I thought of something super human like flying or shape shifting, but if I can't fight evil... it all just seems useless. I definitely would want to help people and who better to help than the people I love. To protect them from harm and pain. To keep anyone around them from abusing their way too quick-to-trust natures.

That just seems like the most appropriate power for me.

Hugs Kelvin! Check out his blog if you want to see more Synchroblogging.

Love The Gym?

I've recently found such a huge passion for going to my gym. When I first started going to the gym I thought it was crappy. I never got the energy. It was a challenge to get my ass up, dressed, out the door. It was all about motivation and wanting to be there, and the truth was I didn't want to be there. But I've found a reason to be there.



Part of my huge desire to go has to do with the 45 lbs I've lost. It feels incredible. I love knowing that I can run nearly three miles with ease. I love the compliments and people constantly asking, "are you losing weight". But even losing the weight doesn't make going to the gym fun...



I think I love it because when I'm there... I use the eliptical directly behind the weight area. I can run and stare at hot guys with sweat dripping and delicious muscles bulging. Mmmmmph... jesus! It's astonishing I don't hurl myself off the machine. Then when I'm lifting weights I get to walk near them... wiggle playfully. It feels like a sexy, hot game of cat and mouse. And the looks I get back are just as playful. But with headsets in, no one ever really talks. We all just look, we smile, we wiggle, and I giggle.



Even better is walking into the gym and the incredibly gorgeous guy working the counter. The more I see him and his adorable smile, talk with him, and tease him lightly... the more I want to jump over the counter and rip his clothes off starting with that baseball cap hiding his uber-sexy man hair!! He makes me feel like a starving lioness and his shy, dimpled, boyish grin totally makes me wet my panties! In my gym fantasy I always imagined myself with a fellow gym-goer in the tanning room slamming against the walls and down onto the bench, but he has me second-guessing my fantasy... wishing I could have him instead. So I flirt... and love every second of it.



So I go... almost everyday. I surely hate Mondays, but his ass is hot enough to get me there anyday! Can I really love going to the gym? ... I'll take whatever motivation I can get to get me there, for now.

A Whirlwind Of Everything...

For the last week I've had fleeting thoughts dance through my head about what I wanted my next blog topic to be but nothing has been able to stick. I commonly speak of a passion I need in order to write. Something that fires up inside of me strong and hot to keep me compelled. Recently I've found myself climbing a rock... and I have reached the spot where not one of the damn foot-holes near me feels right or safe enough to move forward up the rock. But I also can't stay stationed in the middle of the rock panicked by the gamble of a wrong move. So, on I go.

My last week has been a mixture of so many things. It has included so many thoughts, so many feelings and emotions, topped off with a slew of insane activities. It all started with my ex serving me with divorce papers. Not .... here we are, this is the time, this is the place we call an end... but throwing things, torn, and broken across the living room - this is the end. All the love that ever once was... it was stomped out in anger and hate. Not saying that the love could ever go away, because I don't believe it is possible to turn off all the feeling you have ever had for a person. At least I know I can't. But this wasn't a good finish, a good end.

So that's where it started. A race to get through this week. With love, pain, anger, resentment, frustration, confusion, joy, memories, accomplishment, and sorrow all mixed together in big fucking bowl of alphabet soup.

And besides all the emotion I was already feeling there was all the normal day-to-day stuff. In other words... men. I will probably meet at least two new guys this weekend. I've already met one. I see things in them I would hold onto if given half the chance. But I think most of them have decided to live by the all too common, 'my life is too busy' manslogan of the fucking year! I guess my question is... too busy for what? ... life? Because that is what we are talking about here. And when they are old, gray, and starting to wrinkle... is that when life can begin? I am being harsh here, merely because I have heard this same lame statement from guys over and over. I wonder how it is they can find time for my lips but nothing more.

My life feels like a cluster-fuck. So, although I will rarely do this. I feel I have done my blog readers an injustice by writing with such a lack of focus. Let this video explain how I am feeling. And most of all... enjoy the happy awesome beat behind it all. She's a great artist.

Being Me...

All I can ever be is me. I was born in this skin. I was born with these eyes and this smile. I walk in these shoes. And tomorrow I will wake up as that same me. I do not write to please anyone. Yes... somewhere in the back of my mind I want to be appreciated, somewhere in the back of my mind I always want to please. But the day I sat down to start writing... I sat down for me. I sat down to vent, to clear my mind, to find connections between the thousands of looming thoughts swirling in my brain. If, as a biproduct, I found a connection with others and began making someone smile, say wow, or feel even the slightest something... then it was a happy result for me.

I will not stop my blog for you. I will not stop my blog for anyone. I sat in the grass beneath the tree beside my mother and fought myself on these very thoughts. What am I afraid of? So what if people know who I am? So what if they know I've had sex? So what if they know my fears? Honestly... does any of this change who I am at the end of the day? ... No. Why then, should I let that fear rule me? ... I won't.

So... the fact that people have found me cannot be my determining factor. I am writing to be a better me. I am writing to find myself and to improve myself. Ultimately, that means I need to see even the shit I am ashamed of... whether or not you see it is of no effect. I will not give anyone the right to have power over me or my blog. My choice and my voice was stolen by abusers, rapists, and assholes. All too often... I let them take it. I'm still too afraid to fight for it, for myself, for my voice in so many instances, but this one is mine!

The final questions are... Can I find the freedom to write as I began writing with despite knowing my ex decided to pass around my blog information to his family? Can I know that there may be malicious eyes on me waiting for me to fail and still admit all my truths?

I will be the best me I can be oneday, even if today I am not. This is my voice and I will continue to write!!

Picking Up The Mess...

My ex found my blog.

I don't know what to do.

Do I take it down? Do I write with the same freedom, love, and passion I have been until this day?

... definitely confused!!!

Raining... Men?

So I seem to have stepped into some fucked up alternate universe where there are a ton of men. Everywhere I turn there are new ones. Hot ones too!! ... And they want me... what kind of bullshit propaganda is that?

You're probably asking yourself how in sam-hell I could be bitching about this!?! Well... let me tell you, I am not a juggler! In no part of my life have I ever been good at handling multiples. I can handle two guys... thats easy. But this... this is too many! I'm in a state of shock.

I'm out there on a dating site or two... but nothing too extreme. Its not like I'm plastered on every site out there. This weekend I tried to relax and enjoy myself... or at least that was the goal. I ended up meeting with a couple of guys I had met before. The first encounter of which was insanely hot.

We spent the past few months remembering and romanticizing about the first time we were together. The sex was incredible and steamy. He fell upon me as we watched a movie pleading with me that my tits had just pushed his limit way too far. We spent the next hour slamming eachother in one form or another against my new suede couch. In normal instances I would have begged any living creature just to get the hell away from my new couch... but by the sixth incredible, mind-blowing orgasm I could hardly place more coherent words than 'holy fuck', let alone a complete sentence! My thighs ached from riding him, we were both covered in sweat and yet neither one of us could stand the thought of stopping for a chance to breathe! Somehow we found our way to floor and onto hands and knees for another hour. It was loud and sticky - exactly how every damn sexual experience should be.

But we fight... this guy and I. He screws with my head and twists me into doing exactly what he wants me to do. Everytime I end up feeling like a 6 year-old at a softball game that was just forced to forfeit because little Jenny was out sick. I swear to god... its not my fault. I lose all sense of reality. And for this he is extremely unhealthy for me.

...But after a few months of the back-and-forth and with his ass finally being in town... I said I wanted to see him through grit-teeth. He was here within 15 minutes. Nevermind the fact I was already driving down the road to pick up my roommate from work. I turned around. I walked the three flights of stairs up to my apartment and as I met his eyes we both knew clothes were coming off. Pressed against the fridge, the walls, and finally slammed onto my bed. "I told you I could do it in ten minutes," he gleamed down at me just after we both orgasmed. It was intense sex... with him reminding me every few minutes. "Are you still mad?"... " do you still want to fight?"... "is this what you wanted?" I shut out his taunts and focused on his hot body slamming against me... until he had me begging, screaming, pleading, and wanting more! How could I let him turn me inside out like that?

This was just one of four this weekend. I feel I've reached some sort of ultimate slut-hood. What the fuck am I thinking? After him I am sent into a mad sprawl of my sexual addiction. He has clearly triggered something viscious and sick inside of me that I had been trying so desperately to close off. ... but the sex, fuck, the sex is so hot!

... And I say again... I don't want to see him again!! Until next time I turn into a fucking pretzel.

On Sunday I received approximately 10 new emails. That is 10 new men on top of the old ones that haven't let me go, yet. I am messed up, my head is obviously not screwed on in any proper fashion. I feel myself flown into a mad dash to pick up the thousand marbles just tossed my direction on a hard concrete floor. I feel I can't let one pass by... because it could be the one. The one to walk right, talk right, fuck right, and love right. I seriously doubt I will find it in this bullshit computer world, but for now I will scramble to pick up the balls. I'm weeding through the emails... talking with some on the phone and on chat... I've even met one already, with three more dates lined up.

I'm still holding out. Because in the back of my mind is my soldier and he pushes to the front more often than not. I cling to my phone like it is my eternal salvation because he could call. I cling to anything to connect these two individuals that are worlds apart. In a sea of men... I look for the one. But since it seems to be raining men, does it have to fucking pour? Can I get a soft drizzle? Or just bring my one home...

At A Loss...

I think when I started writing I thought I would just vent. Who is around to hear me? What do they care if I'm a bitch, slut, or even a raging fucking looney? But I've grown to care. I've grown to want to please. I want to write and be stimulating, moving, and enthralling. And when I feel like shit... I'm afraid of letting you down, as well as myself. But this is all I have... this is what's on my mind!

Part of my last few weeks have been insanely happy. I have one of the best roommates I could ever ask for. She is me... as crazy as that sounds. We have so much in common. We bitch the same, we're sensative the same, we think the same, and not that I know in full detail, but I believe we even fuck the same. We talk about our lives, the trials and tribulations of life as a 20-something not knowing what the fuck we're fighting it all for. What is the goal? Where is the sense of accomplishment? When is it life finally feels like you're living it and not just working toward some un-attainable mirage?

I met a soldier... on my first wedding aniversary to the husband I'm separating from. I didn't think I could meet anyone. I've gone out for years... and never been asked out, merely had words of lust slurred at me. "Show me those huge tits!", "ci mami... blah blah blah", or "fuck girl, can I take you back to my place?". How is it they know? How is it they all say the same thing? Do big tits somehow promote an inability to speak english or the lack of simple, common decency of 'hello, what's your name?'? I'd never been asked for my phone number in any proper way. Never asked to dance, just brushed up against by some strange cock I'd never been introduced to.

But this soldier, my soldier was different. I was dancing on the wall and he climbed up to find my ear and ask for a dance. ME!! A man... asked me to dance! Silly girl... I asked, "where?". He smiled and pointed to the dance floor. He took me there and if felt perfect. I write often of this dance. I write of being against him. Every seduction you could ever hope for... and I felt it. After a few songs I bid him for a break. I thanked him and found myself a seat on the wall to catch my breath. But as soon as I was back up and dancing he found me again. The second dance was hotter... I felt his lips on my neck and held his hands to my hips.

Before I knew it... it was time to go. My girlfriend was dragging me off. He said to me, "I wish I had your number". So sweet, so unobtrusive... and I told him he could have it. Afterall... he was the first man to treat me like I was real on a night when I needed so desperately to feel real. I took his phone from his hand and called myself. There... now I know he has me! He thanked me for the dance, again, and the number. I smiled and slipped away.

Our texts, phone calls, and chats were nothing less. The weekend he came to spend with me, still all the more. I felt completely in love... and what so many would call far too soon. I'd smile and he'd smile at my smile. He'd kiss me and I felt infallible, just as he felt to me. But there was an evil looming over us. He was being deployed... in days.

That curse that hits sooooo many girls as a soldier is being wisked off to war. They kept telling me... "it's not real", "this is what soldiers do", "he's just trying to find something to cling to". I disregarded every word... because my soldier was not the same. Mine was real. He tested me by disappearing just before he deployed. He broke off all contact until I thought I would burst. I went through moments of hate, of confusion, of sorrow, and of love, too. I kept coming back to the same thing... if it was all fake why did he look at me like that? If it was all a game, why not go straight for the sex talk... god knows so many had before. No, they were wrong, they were all wrong!! Mine is different! And he came back to me after a brief interlude of his own confusion.

So there he is... in Afghanistan at the Kandahar Air Base where it seems like daily a plane crashes. And on top of those crashes, there are blackouts, lost soldiers, and bombings. It's all some mad fucking test!! Will I stay resilient in the face of all of this? Can I love a man and stay connected to him despite the fact that I may hardly even know him yet? Everyone tells me this fades. I must admit my resilience comes in waves. There are days when I feel like I'm chasing my own tail. But last night... when I heard his voice, it came back. Every love... every perception of perfection... every desire to hold strong, it is still there!!!

So I'm confused and lost... and unsure of myself. He asked me to stay open to the possibility of loving another... so I try to stay open. But for now I will hang on to this one thing, this one man. Because out there... far far away, I think he's holding on to me too! And when he gets home... I will await with bated breath to get to know him, all the way... and love him, all the more.