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Unable to make up my mind once again. Presented with the beauty of women, I think only of the harder masculine touch. Presented with the more masculine beauty, I long once more for the feminity. With loneliness, I crave company. In a crowd, nothing more than to be alone. I wish for love, then curse Eros's arrow for ever finding me. I need a time to relax, and find myself craving the excitement. *sigh* I'm all mixed up inside. I always have been. I wish to get away from it all, but I like it here, more than I've liked it anywhere. My brain hurts. This should be made into a poem or a song, the tragic air would really be great, but even my muse seems to be suffering under this funk.



And now I can't seem to stop hurting. As though acknowledging that I didn't feel so happy just made things worse. I really don't want to have to fight my way out of depression again; it's almost killed me before. I want someone to talk to, someone to make this right. Someone, something . . . what the hell is happening to me? I hurt so much, I weep like a little girl, I can't stop myself from listening to sad music which is only making things worse (the song "Whiskey Lullaby" should be BANNED! from people in a sad/solemn mood). Shit, my emotions are getting out of control again. I hate you uterus. Somehow, I know this is all your fault.

Where do I look to find the strength to pull myself through this. I need that shaft of light to pierce my dark thoughts. A friend and so much more. But those whom I had are all gone now. I feel more alone now than I could believe. And being around other people only makes it worse. I tried to work as soon as I woke up, I swear I did. But this depression has had it's claws in me longer, and I resorted to trying to find a way out by noon. And I felt better, but the books are still lying open, waiting for me to be able to understand them, to be able to apply their principals on the test. I need another drink. And all the media I've explored today made me want to cry. But my eyes run dry again.

I can't get him out of my mind. What the hell did you do to me? Yes, I knew when we got into this what you were; hell, it excited me. But I believe it's time for you to exit my little over-heated brain and allow me to get back to my life. I'll see you again, we'll have a repeat preformance. But it's time for me to go back to thinking of something other than you. Damn, I just can't stop. I need help, I need help so bad. How do I get you out of my system? For the love of the gods, you've showed me things I always wanted to be a part of, and you took me farther than I would ever allow myself. You made me feel desirable, you gave me what no others will: human touch. Can you believe it? I went through almost my entire life with only a minimum of human touch. Go ahead, poke my back; I'll jump into the air and ask most people to refrain from doing so again. I have to guard against such things. Because I'm just not used to it. But . . . when you touched me, I felt so connected to the world. I felt like it was okay to let down that guard, if only for a time. To let the world take me where it would. To let you take me where you would. I felt so safe, not because you said you wouldn't go any farther than I wanted you to, but because you took control. I've longed to give up control. And you seem to still want me to give up control. I will, for only you. I would love to. But I need my mind back now, I need to live through this life I have chosen. I will give you control, my body and all, but I promised myself that no one would take my dreams again. Least of all me. But be there for when I need you; you're the only one who understands what I need.



My debauched god of sin. Embodiment of earthly pleasures and evil. Perhaps what I've dreamed of all my life . . . Goblin King.

I can't help but feel that there are large parts of things that all humans know and accept that I've simply missed out on. A few nights ago, it was brought to my attention that it's not normal to have no known boundaries. Boundaries that are further than most people would ever be wiling to go.

The truth is, the world holds much savor for me (now anyways, it was not always so) but very little surprise. And each time I step beyond the boundaries of things I've done, I find nothing to shock me, just things that I enjoy. Sure, I've managed to find things that don't bring me pleasure, but they don't make me scream "stop!"

I apologize to anyone actually reading this. It's not really meant to be read; it SHOULD make no sense to anyone but me. It's really me sorting out a few new experiences that I may have enjoyed too much, even as they proved that I'm not really right in my moral stance. Dear Penthouse . . . No, but seriously, how did I go from having broken only one sexual boundary to having broken all of them, all in one night? My friends, who've always accepted and enforced my semi-virginal atmosphere, just looked at me in shock and a little bit of disgust upon learning that, after one really awesome night, I was less pure than they. But how could I have let the opportunity pass? I've faced death once before, and I can say that no rules are changed just because you're almost entirely innocent. From the moment this world touched me, it's been a slow loss of that innocence; I just felt like finishing off the rest of it in one night.

*cough* Author's note here again. This really won't be a pleasurable read; I write like this to get things organized in my mind, as well as to create a memory so that it may not be forgotten. All of the details in my skull blaze to life upon my rereading my words, the casual reader will just get a headache. Sorry.

And my mind keeps returning to the debauched Jesus; crucified upon a bed of pleasure, calling the innocent (innocent? HAH! Like I was ever really innocent) to the darker side. To sin and sin again, for no reason other than it felt good. Good? It felt bloody amazing . . . not just because the scene was so perfect, but because I had seen it before. So many months ago, a dream came to me, and only one image from it remained in my mind; the same image that was created in that room. An image that I had not seen anywhere else in all of my existence. And, though the dream was forgotten until the scene before my eyes was realized, it came rushing back. Dejavous hit me like a slap in the face; an event so strong that it left ripples in the earlier parts of my life. Premembrance . . . amazing. Is it the sins I committed that I'm still trying to work out in my mind? No, I accept them and don't regret a thing. In fact, I'm game for a repeat. One repeat? Let's make it more. But my mind still fights with the strength of that prememory--what can it symbolize? Will it lead to other memories that I've lost returning? Is this an awakening of more of my gifts? Was the demon I gave myself to more than he appeared? (You're damn right he was! OH GODS!) My mind, open as it has always been, seems to want to find more meaning than this event had. Or perhaps, more meaning than I am ready to know. And so, I extend a final apology to those of you stubborn enough to read this; you were warned, and now you have a headache.