FRAGILE....---->---->DAMAGED GOODS

Carry the package upright.

Please notice the the "FRAGILE" label tapped all around.

Be very very gentle.

And by every means necessary DO NOT, i repeat, DO NOT, drop this package.

But he let me slip

and he let me fall

and i broke.

Now.

Now.

I am damaged goods...

and I'll never love again.

"Ever since you I've been dead inside. I guess that's why I keep trying to go back to you...because I can't feel shit. My heart doesn't work anymore. You fucked me up"

This is what I told the HIM from long ago...the one this blog started with, the reason for the birth of this blog, the one I wrote about and then left behind and the one i pretended to forget about and the one i never stopped thinking about. THE ONE. The one I'll never get over because at least he reminds me I'm still human.

I thought I was healed...that I had finally let go of all the love and the hurt and the everything he was to me...but his absence only makes me think of him more. Returning often to the days when I was human...when I was a woman. I return to those days when my heart was simultaneously filled with so much joy and so much sorrow...but to feel is an amazing thing. I'd rather feel heartache, sincere heartache, than to be tormented by the stoicism my life now exhibits. I've been condemned to a life after love with no love after love.

I feel nothing.

I never feel anything.

And if for some reason my heart skips a beat for someone, in a week my heart stops beating.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I FLAT LINE.

But But it is through HIM that I am able to feel again. Only when I think of him, speak to him do all contradicting and ambivalent feelings come flooding all at once. Speaking to him is overwhelming but sometimes I just need to be alive....Sometimes I want to live in his bad romance, in his sick, in his nasty....then to be dead in this reality.

I want revenge! I WANT HIS SWEET REVENGE!

I told him this...I want so bad to hurt him...because hurting him makes me realize that I still love him. That I never stopped loving him. You only hurt the things you love, the things that you are passionate about...the things that hurt you.

This pain follows me wherever I go, making me incapable of feeling for another person the way I felt for him. I can never let go of this pain....It never goes away.

I want to love him until it hurts me....and hurt him until it kills me.

I want...

I need to be alive again...

So if that means allowing him to destroy me to dismantle the emotionless wall....

then....

BREAK ME

BREAK ME

BREAK ME

OVER AND OVER AGAIN

FORBIDDEN LUST

No.

No No No No No.

No.

You can't like him.

Well, I don't like him...I just...I'm just curious is all. I just want to see what he is like...I just want a taste.

No.

No No No No No.

No.

You can't want him.

Delicious Toxins

Yummmmmmmm
MMMMMMMMM
DELICIOUS


The thought of it in my mouth makes me salivate...nothing can compare to the enormous pleasure I get from it. Oral fixation, oral gratification....goodies oh those goodies....

Yes its better than sex. It is more comforting than his touch...than his embrace...because food, food is always there when I need it.

Food was my first love.
And you never forget your first love.
And you never let go....

I am not sure when or how it happened but food filled the void. When was the first void?

When my dad was never home. Growing up, the only way to guide him back home was through my appetite.
"Papi, I'm hungry."
And from the end of the earths he would reach my door, McDonalds in hand.

When I did poorly on an exam or had a social dispute over my weight...My mom brought me McDonalds and candy.

When I had my first crush and he did not like me, My mom took me to see the only thing that never judged me, that always loved me, the only thing that knew how to love me the way i needed, the way i craved, the way no one will ever love me.

When I had my first boyfriend and consequently and inevitably my first heartbreak, it was indulgences that healed my heart.

And when I was lonely and bored...it was food that was always there to accompany me. Food never ditches me. He is never too busy for me...

When I want to numb myself from the heartache and stress of my daily life....when I want to punish myself for wanting so badly to have a man to love, punish myself for shopping too much, for being self absorbed and egotistic...punishing myself for allowing myself to be caught in empty relationships and allowing myself to use and be used and god settling for less when it leaves me so drained every time.

How is it that something that loves me so much, that is always there for me....hurt me so much?

Food is like the men I have known all my life. He is there momentarily for instant gratification and when he is gone, the consequences of a full stomach and an empty heart weighs heavily on me. It is like eating a bag rocks that sit at the pit of your stomach like an anchor.

I can't move.

SOMETIMES LOVE...

For the past several months I sang "I don't need no love in my life!" I was convinced that cupid could only be a fallen angel, a messenger of the devil, the keeper of all things that break your spirit. How could cupid possibly be a creation of god when sometimes love gets you down? Love has beaten me so often that I could never possibly believe in it again. But love is like giving birth....when you experience it you promise you'll never go through that pain ever again....but time passes and you just forget the pain. You can't possibly fathom how much it truly hurts but then again love comes like an unplanned pregnancy and there you are again vomiting every morning and taking huge iron pills and getting wet nipples and wanting to just die as you push this 6-9 pound creature out of your vag! what the hell! I ripped the hell out of of my vag again!

This new guy has cupid on my ass! and I'm already finding myself vomiting in the morning.

I'm love sick

am I love sick.

It smells like a coat of fresh paint, get a whiff

One gallon of semi-gloss peacock tail paint $23
One gallon of semi-gloss lemon poundcake paint $23
One quart of semi-gloss bonfire paint $15
Two sea sponges $20
Many many rollers and brushes $20
Walls that make up a home...PRICELESS.

My life has been painted with a fresh layer of paint. Vibrant colors that replace the once dull muted colors that have been weathered away by time. My life is just so beautiful right now I barely recognize it.

Its amazing how just a week or so ago I wrote an entry, a very dark entry about headless horsemen and sleepy hallow and my hypothetical dismemberment...I was so sleepy and so hallow. I was almost dead. Then suddenly the winds of change blew in my direction, a warm breeze, melting my heart, warming my soul, making me feel alive again. I closed my eyes, finally fearless of change, that once crippling inevitable entity that has stopped me from progress time and time again, and let it lift me into the sky and take me to heights I had dreamt of reaching.

For the first time since 2088 was sold. For the first time in my entire life I left Ryer avenue behind. As you now know from previous blogs, Ryer held me captive, restraining and keeping me in the confines of mediocracy. "How could you want to blend in, when you were meant to stand out" I once heard this in a film and it has stuck with me since. I am not meant for normal existance but to soar beyond the limitations of normalcy. Im not ordinary, but extraordinary.

My house was painted with the colors of fabulousity to reflect its inhabitant. My walls are painted with the brushes of self. They are decorated with my words, my personality, my taste, my style, my love.

I am finally home.

I haven't been able to call a place home, I mean really home, since 2088 and now finally im free. In stages I let go of HIM, And then my cousins and excess baggage friends, and negativity and then picked up some great things along the way. And it wasn't until I left the past in the past, did I find the hidden path home. It was always there, now, finally uncovered.

Welcome to sleepy hallow

When night falls the headless horsemen rides into the darkness, ravishing me, beheading me, leaving me mindless, lifeless. When night falls the headless horseman seduces me and claims me his corpse bride, and we both ride into the dark looking for the one thing that fills the void.
I live in sleep hallow.
Welcome.
Thanks for visiting.
Im usually just waiting for company.
Im usually here all alone.
Im usually so sleepy. So hallow.
Im usually dead.


Now in days the headless horseman is so angry with me. So frustrated with me. If he could talk he would tell me I've lost my drive to search. He'd warn me that if we stopped looking now we'd never be complete. He wants his head. But now in days I like not having mine. I don't have to worry about my hairstyle and make up, and I never have to brush my teeth. It saves money. Yes, being headless is very economical. But I can't see. And I can't speak. I used to look in the mirror. I don't know who I am anymore. sometimes I miss my head.

A few nights ago I got really lonely and no one was in town. The horseman beheaded all of the townsmen. I was so sleepy, but had insomnia. So I waited for him.

When night fell, he called to me. Riding through the stark empty night and ravishing me. Beheading me over and over again.

I don't miss my head at all.
Im so sleepy.
Im so hallow.

welcome to sleepy hallow new comers.
No one ever visits me.
No one is welcomed here anymore.
Because I ride into the night slaughtering all those that come to town.
Because I've sold my soul to him. Because he is the only one who knows where my head is.

Sometimes I miss my head.
Im so sleepy.
Im so hallow.

THE ULTIMATE ORGASM OF LIFE IS DEATH.

Today something finally inspired me. Something finally drove me to write. To release these thoughts to a public sphere that may help me organize them into something coherent and maybe something less tragic. But I feel utter tragedy nearing. I feel Shakespearean and as I look into the mirror I feel more and more like a murdering bastard. I see Lady Macbeth. Out Out you damn spot, damned spot I say out! But I am already tainted. Stained. Ruined.

In my solitude these past few weeks I have started to loath myself again. Returning to an unhealthy solitude and pushing myself further away from the contacts that can take me out of this self-inflicted inferno. Lately, for some reason the thought of having human contact with anyone makes me cringe. The only contacts welcomed are those of cyberspace, the space where I am simultaneously near and far to humanity. Work has been especially unbearable because i am so sick of pretending I'm happy being a card slave. I have sold my soul to papyrus and my blood has dried on the creases of each birthday and holiday wish.

"Unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top full Of direst cruelty; make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall"

I want not to feel.

I want to defy the natural order of humankindness.

I want to be hallow.

I want to detach myself from everything that makes me woman.

I want to murder all my inclinations to love.

I don't want to need love.

And yet at my lowest points that is all I can think of.

I have driven myself mad with lovers malady and yet with cupids constant torment, I crave it. Am i just a masochist? Wanting cupid to continue finding novel methods of torture, to lock me away in a lovers torture chamber and let him do with me what he wills?

I am uncertain.

In the absence of love, its good and its bad, not feeling bliss nor heartache just deep hollowness, I lack drive. I haven't gone to the gym all month. I haven't dieted all month. I haven't job searched all month. I haven't open my GRE books all month. I have done nothing but complain. My days go in and out with such lack of meaning that I might as well be dead. Am I not already dead?

In my pseudo-suicidal thoughts a sign came to me.

My sister calls me to tell me that a very good friend of hers whom I have heard about for most of my youth, had passed. He was only 42.

I kept saying "wow" but in all honesty was detached from her experience. Momentarily the thought had erased from my mind.

God doesn't give up. He made sure I was going to get the hint. Even if it meant his face in a burning bush.

My personal trainer texts me to ask me why I haven't been to the gym in so long. He was worried. When I told him about my lack of motivation he told me sometimes we have to make ourselves live even when we want to give up. He confided in me that he wanted to give up because his brother had just passed. But he wouldn't allow himself to drown in the sorrows of his loss.

As if that weren't enough. I insensitively text one of my best friends to bash her about the cloud of death that follows her, seeming to forget that her brother had died just a year ago and that in a week would be the anniversary of his death.

I have become Lady Macbeth.

In wanting to be her, to become insensitive, to no longer feel...I have lost touch with the things that make me human.

That was primitive of me.

That was so demonic.

Double double toil and trouble

Fire burn and cauldron bubble

I'm a [B]-witch.

I have to wake up and smell the potion. I am here on this earth, alive and I should consider myself so lucky not only am I alive but the people I love are too. How strong are these people, my pt, my bf, to endure the loss of their brothers. And I grew scared noticing that DOUBLE DOUBLE HAS TOILED IN TROUBLE...double brothers...and prayed that my brother would be okay. I had just came back from his house and he was not well. And he just turned 43 this week...and the previous death was of a 42 year old, a heart attack, something my brother is susceptible to for multiple reasons including heredity and weight. I was desperate to go see him yesterday, uncertain the reason why.

And I wonder if this lack of passion, this lack of love, would come to an end with the tragic death of my brother. If maybe this would give me the solution to lack of feeling. The greatest heartbreak. The most intense emotion. The most unconditional everlasting love. and the ultimate orgasm of life---death.