The songs that have made me cry...

Not, to elude that making me cry is some triumphant feat...
The other night a co-worker (see crush) asked me 'what song best represents you?"
In that instance I thought of Mariah Carey's 'Outside' (from Butterfly). But, I thought 'how depressing, I won't tell him that'. But, then I thought how exciting would it be for my crush to learn more about me, through a song. Or, at least how I felt some most times.

1. Outside
2. Special- Janet Jackson (Velvet Rope).

The rest of the songs make me think of my brother (rip)
3.Easier-Kandi ft Faith Evans
4. Slipped Away-Avril Lavigne
5. In my Dreams-Natalie Brown.

Woo-sah

Are you ready?
Am I ready?

I'm 27 year old virgin...
I wish I could honestly say it was because my belief in God.
The opportunity for sex, never presented itself.
I've never had a boyfriend, either.
I've never been on a date.
Hell, I've never dated.

Now, that I'm 27, and I'm utterly frustrated with this 'celibacy' thing.
And, I told myself, I don't have to love the man the penis is attached too.
That our relationship, doesn't have to head to the alter.
Just a guy, who is nice, caring, and respectful.
Well...

Besides being sexual frustrated most times, I feel my virginity has
kept me from really knowing me. Has kept me connecting to others.
I feel it's something I'm missing in life.
Besides, from being able to be intimate with someone else, it's
the intimacy with myself I most miss.

And, sure I masturbate.
It's mostly clitoral stimulation.
I've tried penetration. It hurts.

All, in all I'm afraid of how much it will hurt.
Afraid, of my inexperience.

I just really want to fuck.
My little silver bullet just isn't doing it.

Forgiveness

I'm not especially sure how to start this post.
The difference between a personal journal, and a blog is
the obligation to explain, and sometimes justify.
(Which is why I rarely post here)

There are so many things, of which I have yet to forgive myself for.
No, I've never killed anyone. Hurt anybody with intention. Or, never matched the
hurt, I'd previously wanted to. No, it's the everyday crimes.
The times I never stood up for myself.
At this moment I can recant arguments, confrontations, etc.
Where I didn't defend myself.
When I didn't defend the people I care about.

I want to write them all out.
But it's so massive, and crushing.
It would be like pulling Haiti back together.
Fixing a broken heart.

Something I can confess to is, I'm depressed.
And, have been for years.
No one, really knows.
I don't want to worry (bother) anyone.
In truth, I think I bother the Earth, on the piece of land I stand on.
Maybe I bother the Sun, the Moon.

I haven't been to therapy.
I've tried to find God.
Tried to fix it myself.
Tried to write it away.
I figured it's my cross to bare.

On good days, I'm withdrawn, disconnected.
Most days are good.
On bad days, like today, I feel mocked.
I feel the world is mocking my unhappiness.
Like today... at this very moment huddled in my room. In the next room
is my family talking and laughing. And, I want to join them.
In more ways, than one. But I have to wipe the tears away.
And, find it in myself to be the person, I should be.
Or the person I feel I should be.

At the end of the this, I hope this helps me.
Free me.

2010

I'm still here.

The butter up. (to the handful of people who click on my blog by mistake)
I really loved, and still love this blog.
This blog, really rekindled my passion for writing.
And, I'll be forever thankful.

An explanation.
I really got deflected from my writing, and my own en betterment(which is the sole reason to journal).And became really focused on how many (how little) hits, and comments I received.
And, really I felt an immense pressure to write quality blog entries.

Hopefully, I will get back to my blog.
My mind and my heart stopped communicating, years ago.

I knew this entry would be crap, but fuck it.

What to say in a blog, that I haven't posted anything in over a month.
You didn't miss anything. Everything is everything.
And, by that I mean, consistently dull.
I started using my $5 spiral notebook from CVS, for some good.
I'm journaling now.
And, I know it'll make me a better writer.
It's easier for me to write fiction, instead of writing about me.
I'm not even checking other blogs. I must have at lest 2oo entries I haven't read in my Dashboard. But, I've spent a lot of time on Tumblr, and LiveJournal.
So there it is.
This entry isn't at all, what I think I'm capable of, but shit.

Hell is hot, and my apartment is hotter.

For the past two weeks, I've been suffering. I had to be reduced to ceiling fans. My air condition gave out on me, in the middle of summer. It's back on now, but it has to earn my trust back. That wasn't the only reason I haven't been blogging, but it is part.
My blog seems, not to be getting any more popular. And when I don't see benefits, for anything I do I quit. Don't get me wrong, I don't expect my little corner of the World Wide Web, to be madly popular. But a handful of followers, and a splash of comments, would help. and the ever-ending problem, of being a blogger, no material.

All the years I've spent writing- most of it horrible, some of it good- I've never thought about, publishing my work. Of course, it'd be a dream. But lately I'm really concern, one day all I'll have is some notebooks. I want to get this is stuff out. Problem is, I'm not sure if my 'stuff' is good enough to publish. Now, I've seen some crappy books out there. I think 'chick lit' has a big part of that...

And my writing, is more focused, and centered on dialect. In my writing I wouldn't spend three pages on describing a setting. How well the characters' apartment was kept. The things the character collected.The sunrise the character stands under. You get my drift.

And to be honest, my ability to write is greatly tied with my self-esteem. I've never had to take criticism. And, NO ONE has ever read, anything I've written. It's the thing a select few, know I do, but they haven't read. So...

I was looking over the WWW, and there are a lot of literary reviews/journals/magazines that accept submissions. And tons of writers' have gotten there start, this way.

It would be, a dream come true to write for a living. A dream. And my only dream.