I Do What I Want...

Life

This looks so simple and chic. I love it.

Henri Matisse’s studio, 1952

I get depresso if I don't have my espresso. #Coffee

This one night

Short Story:

I turned into someone else, someone that I hated and envied all at once. I stared at him, knowing he was my undoing, all at once afraid and in love with him. His years of grip on me was tight and strong, but my more logical side breathed for freedom from his chains.

He had told me that I was his, that I belonged to him, that every kiss, be it forced or done in silent surrender, was his branding of me. His touch was like fire now, pain so intense that I wanted more, just to have a feeling of no longer feeling empty. Sometimes, the slighted touch would make me whimper, wanting more, needing more, needing him.

Every night he is like a warrior, he being the sword, and I, his scabbard. No longer do I resist, it has been years since I’ve last resisted, but with stillness in need and thought, comes the realization of freedom, of it being so close in grasp that I can taste it. The more I succumb to him, the more logical side of me knows that what I’m starting to love; him, his grasp of me, my willingness to stay, my acceptance of everything, is wrong and deviant.

So tonight, here I stand, with my own sword in hand; a chefs knife, from under my pillow, I straddle him, moving against him like butter, he awakes, both his desire and his eyes open to me above him; him staring at my slightly mad eyes. I kiss him, putting all my sorrow, all my love, all my years wasted in his silent threats, and take my revenge.

When I remove myself from his final hold on me, his blood dripping down my chest, I look at him. With every beat of my own heart, I remember everything he’s done to me. I wipe his blood from me, and I remember wiping blood from my own wounds, from the tears shed. I dress myself and remember when he would cut away my clothes with knives, or sheer force of will. Finally, I walk out the door, the door that I was pushed though, time and time again, the door that I walked through willingly, holding hands with him.

The air tastes sweet; new. I am still left empty.

Husband and I were arguing, tears were shed, hugs were given, but I still cooked for him, because I love his stupid face.

10:30 pm baby discussion

Henry Lloyd-Hughes talks about saving Jodie Comer’s life during the pasta incident

If you put it out in the universe, maybe it'll come true.

We mean something...

It's 1:46 AM right now, and I'm just simply not tired. At this hour, I am thoughtful, I see the world through fresh eyes.  We are beings living in a big blob of chaos, we have no control over anything, but what we see before us. 

Actually, I just got really tired.  This being must go to sleep now before things get weird.