• It’ll be six years this July,

    by  • June 21, 2017 • 0 Comments

    Mom. It’s mostly OK now, but once in a while I notice the desolation. If I had known how utterly bereft life would be, all alone in my head without your understanding and love… I guess it will make things easier when the time comes. All the stuff that I need to ask, all the

    Here again.

    by  • June 21, 2017 • 0 Comments

    I’ve spent most of the day looking through our Facebook chat history. I’ve moved back in time from the cordial present through the turbulent recent past to a forgotten, thrilling, now distant past, the past in which we discovered each other as minds before we touched each other’s bodies. Knowing you’re here, in the same

    To my two brothers whom I never speak to–

    by  • June 21, 2017 • 0 Comments

    To my two brothers I never speak to,

    Each time I creep on you on FB, the same sentence runs through my head. “It would be nice to know someone who looks like Dad.”

    I look like Dad a lot too, which is a comfort on occasion when I find myself pondering about him.

    Go,
    I can sense why you resent me ‘Go’– I got lucky with Dad, I reaped the benefits of his growth and sobriety. We had a family that traveled together, stayed together and I was lucky to grow up with that. You didn’t have that with your parents, I did. I also had Dad around 20 years later than you did– I experienced him when he was at his best. Maybe, I don’t know for sure. I can only guess why you hate us so much. Apparently you resented him for whatever happened between you and him 20 years prior. I was also told you wanted him to lie for you to advance in school, claim to have credentials you didn’t have– he was too honest for that. I don’t know what happened exactly between you two, but you took it out on me too. To be honest, I’m not sure you ever counted me as a little sister.
    I still wonder about you though. I wonder what it would be like if we had a good relationship. Maybe we would remember Dad and do the things he liked to do when he was still alive. I half expected you to show up at his memorial, but I wasn’t overly surprised that you didn’t.

    Andre,
    Now you, are an interesting story. I trusted you at some point in my life. I remember loving you so much and being so excited when you would be in San Francisco when we would come visit.
    There was a time there right when Dad passed that I thought we would grow closer, and I wanted us to. However, I’m not sure we can ever regain what we had. I just can’t bring myself to trust you anymore. I really thought you would be more open to me being a lesbian when I came out. You acted like it, said you loved me no matter what. Next thing I know you’ve cut ties with me and your grandmother on your side decided I was a subject no longer worth discussing. Yeah, you caused that that shit storm. I forgave you though. I still forgive you for that, I’m not mad about it anymore.
    I guess I just still don’t quite trust you. Especially when you would call for various documents of Dad’s to try and squeeze every penny out of him you could. I also expected you to come to his memorial. You did not.

    Shit– last I heard you two even hate each other.

    I don’t hate either of you. I guess, in fact, I miss you. I miss feeling like I had siblings on dads side, that I shared you two with our father.

    I do wonder what it would be like if we still talked. There is always a part of me that wants to reach out. Then there is another part that is afraid of your ugliness, ‘Go’ and of your falseness, ‘A’.

    I don’t know what else to say.

    Regards,
    Your little sister

    I met a stranger

    by  • June 21, 2017 • 0 Comments

    I met a stranger who was no stranger to my soul. His eyes a pair of emerald green rounds who’s brightness was no stranger to my memories. A flash of a past life surfaces every glare into his eyes. The overwhelming sense of an old friend and familiar smell keep me coming for more. His words all so softly but sharply spoken. His life, one rollercoaster ride you must keep your hands inside.
    I met a stranger who reminded me of his power and control. His personality so guarded and walled, climbing seemed an impossible task. His defenses were techniques seen by my eyes in a prior life, who’s labyrinth I could work my way out of. The confusion and reliance on my strategy to find an answer kept me sinking in a dessert. My walls were simple ruble on the ground, my white flag waved with confidence. If only I knew, My walls had been torn by a trojan horse who was not ready to let go of his life.
    I met a stranger who was no stranger to disappointment. His approach that of a ninja, and I the only one who clearly saw his weakness. This stranger, was a stranger to the vulnerable and spontaneous. All my eyes could recognize was the hurt you had endured in this lifetime, and filled with sadness I realized this may not be our lifetime to reunite. A sad truth who’s connection is hard to let go of so easily.
    I met a stranger who was no stranger to my soul. My touch felt electric, and knowledgeable of his every inch. My body spoke his language, and my eyes saw his truth. My ears heard confusion and lies. Our last connection was our history, our truth, our ending. Timing in this life is everything, and everything screamed to let you go. This lifetime has done you many injustices and taught you to be tough. But my presence shocks your very existence into a spiral of unchartered waters.
    I met a stranger who’s lifetime corrupted this very opportunity, and a stranger became a stranger all over again.

    Post Nightmare Crusade

    by  • June 21, 2017 • 0 Comments

    When it rains it pours, it was said.

    Desperately trying to allow myself to breathe, instructing myself through relaxing. Breathe in, breathe out. Relax. You are safe. You are okay. You need to rest.

    The dreams that remind me of everything. The things they have to say, I can’t argue with them. I am grabbed by my hair, and thrown to the ground. Voices yelling to me that I need to see. My eyes held open and my head turned to look at everything I turn away from. Flashes of the very worst and the very best, the best being ripped apart and placed around me. Like a mockery of flower petals, this isn’t beautiful. This isn’t for growth. This is torture.

    And there it is again. After a night of what felt like a battle. The pounding on the door shaking me from contentment. Bringing me right back to every moment. To every day. To every voice. To her voice inviting them in like they were friends. Offering them refreshments as they beat their way into my safety, pulling my skin from my arms and wearing it around their necks like medals as I tried to fight.

    But this was a whole new scene. All while being the same emotionally exhausting part playing again. The one you have to pause and try and catch your breath. The one where you close your eyes and say thank god this isn’t real. But in this, this is the real life.

    You wonder how. How the laws of the realm could allow this. How could this be an ongoing thing. Who’s going to stop this? Where are they to step up? There is a terrible imbalance going on. And it needs to be put to an end.

    Shaking in my place of safety, as it then becomes polluted with the air of the destruction. That doesn’t leave easily. It piles up as another thing you have to fight. But not even having time to deal with what came before it. The next blow coming way too fast.

    It’s not that you don’t expect it. This just isn’t the kind of events you can prepare for.

    Brought back to square one, but even lower down. How does one ever get out of this now?

    Where did my home go? Where is the love that once existed? When did I become the child of chaos itself and nothing more? Just here as the target.

    I never wanted this. I thought I wanted to save you. But you can self destruct all you want. You’re sending bombs here, you’re taking yourself out with it. And for what? What belief justifies this? Give it up.

    But even then, I’ll still destroy you. Before you even have the chance to do it yourself.

    And I’ll do it by succeeding. I’ll do it by living, not being afraid of anything. As you sit back alone, reaping the repercussions of the war you caused. Deteriorating into nothing but the dust, resembling everything you burnt down. But next to that will be me. The imperium.

    With no regrets of allowing you to burn.