Our heart

It’s in the shape of a heart; I made it when I knew

When I knew that I had fallen in love with you

I put both our names

In white and in black

I drew swirly lines on the front and the back

It’s red and it’s pretty

It means a lot to me

This heart I made for us, forever we will be

It’s hanging on our wall with the picture that you drew

It makes me happy to know that I will always have a man like you

There will be more to this story once our lives are complete

But for now it’s our heart, home and love

How sweet, sweet, sweet…………..

Day 1

“I do”, were the words I said to her that day. She said it back of course, for we got married. She was beautiful; her face was like an angel. I miss her now, but at the same time I do not.

We got married in the summer, down by the beach. The wedding was planned by her family, it was an arranged marriage. I hardly knew her when we did get married, but I saw that she was beautiful. I had to do it; I had to marry this girl that I barely knew. The vows we said at the altar, cliche none the less. 

I do miss her, her smile, her laughter, and her love. We were only married for a year when she left. We got to know each other so well, but she was hiding something from me. We would talk for hours on end every night, but there was something in her voice that was off after the first couple of months of getting to know each other. I was beginning to fall in love with her, and that’s when she told me the terrible news.

I should have known from the start, that she was sick. If I would have known, I could have helped her, but now she is gone. My heart aches every night for her, I sob into my pillow until I fall asleep.

Before she left, I took care of her, even quitting my job. People started to think that I was crazy, but all I wanted was for her to stay alive longer. I did whatever it took to keep her alive. I took her to doctor’s appointments almost every other day; every day was as bad as the last. The doctor’s always said that there was nothing that they could do, I was crushed but I had to keep going. She started to wither away, her face sunken in and skin so pale. It was horrible to see such a beautiful girl, such a beautiful spirit wash away.

Her funeral was not long after those last couple of days; her family was planning that since they found out. The doctor’s told me I managed to help keep her alive longer than they had expected. I was happy about that, but then I felt selfish too. I felt selfish because I wanted her to be alive for me, not for herself. I feel as if I am guilty, in her death. I feel hopeless now that she is gone.

Why couldn’t I have been the one to go and leave this world? I ask myself that question every day; a year has passed. I guess it is time for me to move on with my life and stop grieving. It’s time for me to leave her at peace and my heart as well. I know that it is selfish of me to do this, and to hurt everyone. I know that, and I am sorry to whomever has found this letter.

Just know that I am at peace now, with her. Just know that I never meant to hurt you, and that I am truly sorry.

 

 

Farewell my friend.

Who needs sleep?

“Hell I can sleep when I’m dead”
Coming from the mouth of someone who is in his 60’s. He has been working for the same company for 40 plus years.
I admire his dedication and hard work, his job being so high up. He once told me that it would take about four people to do the job he does. Four, that is a lot of people to do one job. He works almost 12 hours every day for five maybe even six days a week.
He barely ever takes vacation. Just works.

I want to see what it’s like in his shoes, having to work like that but also wanting to work like that.

It amazes me to no end. I see what he does all day, barely sitting at his desk, always up and moving around. Walking back and forth all over the place with his bad knee. But he keeps going, never giving up.

He gives me hope.

Time

The only thing that holds me back is time. If it were non existent I would do anything in this world.
Anyone could do anything. People wouldn’t drive themselves insane.
This world would just be.

It would be simple, you would t have to remember someone’s birthday ( I get birthdays mixed up a lot).
You wouldn’t be late to anything or be early. You would just be. Simple right?
I think so.
But this world is not simple and never will be. Time just keeps going on and on. Clocks ticking into the future, never stopping.

It’s crazy to think that at one “time” or another, TIME didn’t exist. It was never even thought of.
People just lived, were free.

Today and every day from now on, time will just be there, telling us when we are getting closer to our deaths.
Sorry for being so morbid, but it is the truth.

TIME will always be here from now on.

The Man Period

Men have their period too!

It may seem odd that I just said that, but it’s true.
Men get there period. They may not have the bloating or cramps or bleeding, but they get the mood swings and their hormones rise.

I’m speaking from what I see, not from statistics or anything.
I have noticed over the past couple of months, being around men, that they get moody once a month.

It’s quit fascinating to me really. Some guys complain how women who have their monthly friend are “bitches”. It’s true, we can be, but so can men!

The bitch comes out in them once a month. They get mean and sometimes emotional (hormones). I swear sometimes my boyfriend does complain about his “man period”.

So, if you ever wonder why men get moody or bitchy once a month, this is why.

What Changed My Life

Change.

My life took a turn upside down when I was in high-school.

Bullied. Tormented. Tortured by my mind.

It wasn’t just school, it was family too.

They said i’d never make it. Never.

But then I changed things.

I enlisted into the Army National Guard and within months I was trained to shoot M-16’s  and M-4’s. Throw grenades, shoot a grenade launcher, and so much more. I was trained to be the best I could be. Trained to be in the best physical condition. I pushed myself past my limits. Past what they said I could never accomplish. I felt that I succeeded, for once.

I changed.

Looking back on everything, I feel that it was the right step to make. The right path to take.

I met so many people and made so many friends. Some enemies here and there. They can “hate”, that won’t stop me.

I have changed.

Three more years to go, and I still need to change. I was knocked down for a little while, but I am slowly picking myself back up and putting the pieces together.

I still need to change. I still need to push myself.

 

I need to prove everyone wrong, even myself.  

 

Before:

 

After:

Blocked

My mind is blocked. I am not exactly sure what is going on anymore.
I feel like there is an invisible wall in front of me blocking my way.
I can not move, for i feel paralyzed.
My mind is foggy.

The lights are on, but no one seems to be home. Except for me that is.

I thought that there would be someone here with me. Except there is not.
Alone.
Exactly how I feel. All of the time.

There is a wall blocking my way out of this padded room. This padded room where I physically should be and not just mentally.

They should lock me up, throw away the key!
What good am I, when there is a wall in front of me?

I’ve been told that I’m worthless. To stop trying. To give up.
I won’t though. It’s not in my nature

So with the wall in front of me, I’ll begin my journey of knocking it down.

A different kind of sex change: See how quickly a society can shift its sexual attitudes

Explode

It’s like World War Two going off in my head. Barely sleeping. Anticipating another explosion. Another tick. Another movement from the enemy.
The enemy being, Me.
I am at war with myself. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. Every nerve in my body heightened.
I can not sleep, nor eat. My stomach churning over on repeat.
I am not sure why this war is going on, just like every war out there on earth. But it’s happening, to me.

Medications. They numb it. Numb the pain, make me sleep. But they eventually ware off.

I was asked if I am happy, that answer is obviously, No. I am not happy, and I am not sure when I will be.

My body cries for more medication. More! More! More!
I can not take it much longer.
I can not take the numbness nor the pain.

I can feel myself dying. Slowly dying.

Heart Attack

When I got the text to call  my mother, I new something was wrong. She rarely ever texts me or tells me to call her. I was drinking that night with a buddy at a bar. I called my mom and she told me that my aunt had a heart attack. Immediately I started to freak out. I hung up the phone and went back into the bar. I drank the rest of the pitcher of beer while my buddy consoled me.

I called off work for the next day and headed back to my house. Had two more shots and passed out.

The next morning was unbearable, but I managed to  drive myself down to my parents, which was an hour away. I went to “Moose’s” funeral and then from there, to the hospital to see my aunt.

The whole time thinking, this is it, I could lose her. She is my second mom. She means so much to me that I couldn’t think straight until i saw her.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, but I love my aunt too. My mom kicked me out when i was 19 and I moved into my Aunts house. It’s been a rocky relationship with my mother and I ever since and i think it always will be.

I stayed with my aunt the whole day until it was time for me to leave. I felt better after I saw her. She looked tired and weary and older.

Heart attacks run in my family, along with a lot of other medical problems.  I’m starting to realize, that if I don’t take care of myself, that I can be the one in the hospital having a heart attack. I don’t want that, no one does. It scares me.

I don’t want to see myself 20 – 30 years down the road in that position. I don’t want to see anyone I love in that position.

I’m starting to feel sick again.