You are my kind of herione and you know it. Tempting me and teasing me with your very presence, you give me just a taste and then back away out of reach. Most seek balance in life, but when it comes to passion and love, it is okay to lose balance, because that is the essence of life.
The lack of balance scares me where it never used to. The heart has one too many scars, has been broken one too many times...still, that buzz, that electricity draws me in like a moth to a flame and I find it hard to look away...
Will you envelope me and allow me to lose myself blissfully in your existence? Or will you turn me to stone like a single look into Medussa's eyes?
Friday, April 29, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
F#*@KING PERFECT!!!
"Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel like you're less than, less than perfect" (Pink, Perfect) "You could never be a more beautiful you" (Johnny Diaz, A More Beautiful You)
These words speak countless truths to the beauty of women, seen by the world but not by themselves. By whatever means that they do not see the beauty that they possess, songs like these try to shed some much needed light into their shadowy darkness.
For much of my existence, I held a confidence unyielding against change or ridicule. I was beautiful to me, no matter the murmur of the unfriendly, or jealous..I had the backing of my father and grandfather that reinforced that I was what I thought I was. Then the ultimate reinforcement came in the most absurd and devilish package, convincing me that I was like honey to men..desirable, beautiful, wanted. That is all any woman really wants, is it not? Years of possession, degradation, and being tossed aside caught up with the psyche and I am now the woman in these songs, that must be constantly reminded that I am worthy, that I am beautiful.
I constantly question anyone that claims that they want me and if they do want me, I figure it is for one thing only (as my experience with men has been that they all want to possess me). They like my fight, my fire, my flare for life; but as a moth to a flame, they can not take it for more than a short while before they are gone. I am a strong, confident, highly intelligent, bold and brazen, beautiful woman...so why do I not see that when I look at myself? Why do I cast my eyes down when looked upon, when I used to challenge back my admirers? Why do I turn to a mushy little school girl scared of her own reflection when a gentleman professes his desire to be my partner? I immediately question myself, his motives and everything about life; turning into someone I do not know, nor does the gentleman and alas, he is gone...
Why can't I see that I'm F#*@KING PERFECT the way I am?
These words speak countless truths to the beauty of women, seen by the world but not by themselves. By whatever means that they do not see the beauty that they possess, songs like these try to shed some much needed light into their shadowy darkness.
For much of my existence, I held a confidence unyielding against change or ridicule. I was beautiful to me, no matter the murmur of the unfriendly, or jealous..I had the backing of my father and grandfather that reinforced that I was what I thought I was. Then the ultimate reinforcement came in the most absurd and devilish package, convincing me that I was like honey to men..desirable, beautiful, wanted. That is all any woman really wants, is it not? Years of possession, degradation, and being tossed aside caught up with the psyche and I am now the woman in these songs, that must be constantly reminded that I am worthy, that I am beautiful.
I constantly question anyone that claims that they want me and if they do want me, I figure it is for one thing only (as my experience with men has been that they all want to possess me). They like my fight, my fire, my flare for life; but as a moth to a flame, they can not take it for more than a short while before they are gone. I am a strong, confident, highly intelligent, bold and brazen, beautiful woman...so why do I not see that when I look at myself? Why do I cast my eyes down when looked upon, when I used to challenge back my admirers? Why do I turn to a mushy little school girl scared of her own reflection when a gentleman professes his desire to be my partner? I immediately question myself, his motives and everything about life; turning into someone I do not know, nor does the gentleman and alas, he is gone...
Why can't I see that I'm F#*@KING PERFECT the way I am?
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Looking in the Mirror
Often times, I find myself avoiding the mirror simply because I do not recognize the face staring back at me half the time. My recent travels brought so many things to light in my existence, it has taken me a bit to process it all. One of the topics of discussion was when you look in the mirror, who do you see? And the answer was so honest, so heart-wrenchingly distraught, so resonating..."I dress the part, but at the end of the day, all I see is a question..why would anyone want me?.." And another even deeper answer.."I don't have mirrors, because I can't bear to see me."
What is it about that little piece of glass that keeps us at bay? It doesn't lie, it lays everything we hide from the rest of the world bare. Every scar, bad thought, happy thought, everything is there for us to see. I have often thought that I live with my choices and I'm okay with them, because I can look at myself in the mirror. Funny, I don't hide from the mirror because of my choices. I hide because of the memories, the scars, the irrepairable damage that distorts the image like a fun-house mirror.
Even now, after realizing that even with the hell that I lived through, my reality was a cake walk compared to some others. We all need perspective sometimes, but it astounds me how similiar our outlooks are. The degrees of severity of the pain we experienced are on a grand scale, but when it comes right down to it, the way we view the world is essentially the same.
A recent horoscope of mine told me to "shut up and write the book", so I guess it's time to finish what I started and give some voice to that silent pain felt by so many....
I am still pursuing becoming G.I. Jane, though the G.I. has taken on completely new meaning lately. I am not Government Issued, I am God Inspired...as are many strong, beautiful women in my life who share my scars..
As the phoenix rises from the ashes, so to shall we.
What is it about that little piece of glass that keeps us at bay? It doesn't lie, it lays everything we hide from the rest of the world bare. Every scar, bad thought, happy thought, everything is there for us to see. I have often thought that I live with my choices and I'm okay with them, because I can look at myself in the mirror. Funny, I don't hide from the mirror because of my choices. I hide because of the memories, the scars, the irrepairable damage that distorts the image like a fun-house mirror.
Even now, after realizing that even with the hell that I lived through, my reality was a cake walk compared to some others. We all need perspective sometimes, but it astounds me how similiar our outlooks are. The degrees of severity of the pain we experienced are on a grand scale, but when it comes right down to it, the way we view the world is essentially the same.
A recent horoscope of mine told me to "shut up and write the book", so I guess it's time to finish what I started and give some voice to that silent pain felt by so many....
I am still pursuing becoming G.I. Jane, though the G.I. has taken on completely new meaning lately. I am not Government Issued, I am God Inspired...as are many strong, beautiful women in my life who share my scars..
As the phoenix rises from the ashes, so to shall we.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)