Posts Tagged ‘Hopelessly lost in thought

20
Oct
14

again/Virginia

Is it possible to miss something before it’s even gone?

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13
Oct
14

Again/50 never sounded better

Aside from tumblr and WordPress I don’t have any other social media. I find it to be a bit to self absorbing at this time in my life. I’m trying to build a self that’s stands strong on self confidence, worth and acceptance. Social media, while it has good intentions, it doesn’t quite promote those things. I justify tumblr because pictures can be therapeutic and I find it relaxing, as long as I don’t become obsessed and manage my time spent. It’s like a treat at the end of the day on my hour carpool back to lodging. WordPress, I never looked at as social media because it is like an online diary to me. I don’t talk to anyone on the site and while I may follow other blogs and comment here and there, that is was the most contact I make. With that being said, I use WordPress with no boundaries or limitations, I am not trying to impress anyone, obviously if you go back and look at my grammar. I’m here to express me, who I am and what I’m thinking, a lot of my post aren’t even relevant to current events.

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With that that being said and a picture just for shits and giggles, I am genuinely humbled to have 50 followers, even if you just pressed the button because I did. If you’re following my blog, it’s not because it’s full of pictures of me and you think I’m attractive. Nor is it because it’s associated with someone else you know, actually whatever the reason it all stems down to the fact that you have found something I’ve said amusing or insightful or relatable or just so absurd that you keep coming back for more.  Nonetheless I am honored to be worthy of your follow. I feel like I have more of a friend in you 50 followers that I ever did in those 500 Instagram followers. You people actually know the things I’m think and by some miracle you’re still here. There’s no filter on the blogs, what you see is what you get and I’m proud to say I’ve been real and if you follow me, it’s for me and nothing less and that’s a good feeling, a really good feeling.

So, thank you 50, for making me feel good.

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13
Oct
14

Again/Desire

Oh how she longs for the tip of your finger to graze so effortlessly across her ivory skin.

How she craves the lubrication of your pink tongue in combat with her own.

She years for the gasping breaths that leave her lips as your brown skin meets her own.

She aches for the intoxication of your scent left behind.

The pain crossing a thin line of pleasure as she squeezes her pale thighs tight in remembrance of your presence.

She closes her eyes and drags her hands down the center of her body, arching her back and tilting her head in recollection of your hands once doing the same.

Clenching her bare chest and messaging her side until she’s pink as she desperately pines for you once more.

The pain of desire stinging her everywhere inside and out, the loneliness of solitude suffocating and drowing her existence.

Red fills her eyes as she cannot stand the absence of your body any longer

But still she waits in agony twisting and turning on sheets that you once twist and turned together.

09
Oct
14

Again/laugh

Do you like the sound of your laugh? Have you listened to yourself laugh enough that if it weren’t your laugh and you heard someone else laugh that laugh, you would recognize it?

My laugh, when genuine, is sweet.

It is a lovely sound to my ears, it is warm and cozy and safe and secure and it makes me smile.

My laugh is lip bitting, eyes closing, breath taking, quivering uncontrollably satisfying.

I feel my laugh all throughout my body, from my intestines to my achilles hill, from the lasting tingle it leaves on my tongue, to the growing rumble that echos throughout my chest.

My laugh cures heartache and sadness, it dodges that black cloud and protects me from the thieves of the night.

My laugh is contagious, limitless, it knows no bounds and shows no mercy. It takes hostages and kidnaps the innocent, my laugh longs for company and won’t cease until it’s accompanied.

My laugh is my greatest weapon, it breaks hearts just to put them back together again.

Sometimes it hides just to be found, sometimes it wears a disguise just to be discovered.

My laugh has a mind of its own, just to be explored.

My laugh, is mine.

07
Oct
14

Again/office board

This is my white board in my office … wpid-20141007_103920.jpg

07
Oct
14

Again/rise

Because no matter what darkness you faced the day before, the sun will always one day rise again.

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05
Oct
14

Again/starting over

“A writer just summarizes their life events.” I heard that on a movie once.

I’d always written non-fiction because I thought my imagination was more interesting than my day to day. Now that I think about it my life has interesting, not to me of course, but that’s  because I’m the one experiencing it. So I’m gonna try this again, I’m going to write another book, but this time, the main character is me. This book will be about my life, my experiences, and my perception of the world around me.

(Excerpt)

I still remember what I was wearing the day before, green corduroy pants and a pink shirt. I remember I peed my pants that night and in the morning after I changed into the spare pair I had in my backpack, my mom threw the pants behind the bus stop. I remember coming back to that bus stop later that day and remembering I left a quater in the front pocket. I remember reaching for the pants and dropping them as a spider crawled out through that same pocket. I remember being upset the rest of the day because I really wanted that quater. Looking back I find it interesting that I was more upset about leaving a quater in the pissy pants behind the bus stop, rather than the fact that, that was the morning after the first night that I slept on the streets.

(End of excerpt)

I’m slightly OCD, typically when I write I already know the ending and I’m just working my way backwards. But this is the game of life and no one really knows how that ends until it’s ended. I don’t know how I’m going to do this but it’s going to require digging in places I buried for a reason and opening doors I pretend not to see. Writing this book is going to break me and hopefully finishing it will rebuild me. That excerpt is just a memory,  one of many. Just testing the waters, seeing how I feel with just that slight prick. Glancing around watching the reaction of others,  because as much as I want this to be about me, it’s about you. It’s about writing something that someone else would want to read.