prayerful of dreams - 2008-06-28
preschool princess - 2008-06-16
life with my sweetheart - 2008-04-29
the fast approach of four - 2008-04-12
lighting up my own life - 2008-03-08
2002-02-17 - 12:35 p.m.
How is it that one person, one girl can be so stuck in the past that she is unable to shatter the glass and burst back into the present? I opened a drawer to take out a shimmering blue topaz lariat necklace that someone gave me for Christmas and pulled out a hand written journal instead. I opened it up and it only has one entry, marked Feb 17, 2001.
Do you get how eerie this is? I am the ghost of myself, glimpsing my own grey shadow, from the once distant, dulled future that I have tangled myself up in.
It is just a short sad entry written in Lake Placid and it says
" Tonight I am here, thrown across my temporary bed in my non real life, with the muffled whirr of a lively conversation between animated happy adults sharing inebriated pleasantries and witty repartee just a few feet above me and I am staring past the double windows that frames the white crystal snow blanketing the hills, and the snow is still falling so softly and all I can think is " when will my life begin? or more importantly just exactly when did it end? ?"
I keep thinking about you, and it brings me no comfort or joy, like it once did. Memories are so far away, time is no friend to me. I can not remember the exact colour of your eyes, I try to cling so desperately to your smile, I need to remember the way it lit up your face in that ~gleeming with mischief~ twinkle, that you wore so well. Why can't I, just once, have a fairy tale ending?"
and now, it is Feb 17, 2002. very little has changed. Noone has touched me in years. Noone has scratched the surface of my being. I jump when I feel my own touch, because it is so startling and intense. last night when I was out to dinner, I was unconsciously running my hands along my legs, in black satiny finished tights, because of the smooth shivery sensation. I sometimes watch tv and so so softly rub my wrists in a circular motion. When I am asleep, I snuggle beneath the duvet, and gently lay my arms across myself and bring the edges of the duvet up to my face, so I can feel the fabric swim against my skin, and sometimes, I toss back my head and sweep the silky curled frays of my chamomille scented hair against my back.The sensation is magical and so delicately tingly. The lighter and more feathery the touch, the more I disappear into the anticipation of the ruffly sensory sensation. Tracing figure eights on the backs of my knees makes me quietly quiver. and it is only the sensation of touch that makes me aware that I do indeed exist, and I want to break out of this glass bubble. and feel MORE. I WANT TO TOUCH YOU. I want you back on top, where you belong.
shatter me. reach inside. pull me out. please, I am begging you. save me. before I am sentenced to an eternal loop of my own emotional self sabatoge on constant re play.
P.S. I am off to lake placid tomorrow night and everything will be the same lonely de ja vu all over again. feb 2001- feb 2002 = 0 % progress. Well done, wendy ! :(
old starlight - new starbright
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