The only time I allow Myself to feel is when I'm pissed or stoned...

How can I take that away from Myself?

It's when I Almost let Myself be happy.

I'm dead without it. There's No other supplement.

I rule it. I choose it.

Or else I'd be different.

I mustn't want to be different After All.

I don't change Anything...

Labels: Posted by Twisted

I've suddenly understood the meaning of the phrase "All men are arseholes"!

That may seem a generalisation- and okay; maybe it's not All men- just ninety nine percent of the ones who've fucked with Me...

And women can be bitches because they Have to be; most men just Are arseholes because they can't be anything But arseholes. I'm not a bitch Un-knowingly- I Know when I'm being bitchy- being an arsehole is just a way of life for one of these so-called 'men'.

They're not really 'men' like they think, either- hence the term 'a real man'.

Then again, if 'All men are arseholes' then a real man Is an arsehole. By definition.

The nice ones are just freaks of nature.

(NB I love most men I've met and know; just not the ones who fuck me up. So Don't take Me for a Man-Hater!)

Labels: Posted by Twisted

The desire for having a fairytale romance was ingrained in me from an early age. As soon as Sleeping Beauty was kissed by her Prince, I was sold to the idea of Happily Ever After. But many years, and a pond full of frogs later, I came to realise that there is no Prince, and if there should even be one, what the fuck would he be doing kneeling at the foot of my bed? Once I had resigned myself to that fact, the realisation that my future lay with pond life was almost a relief to me. It meant having no more unrealistic expectations.

No matter which way you look at it, frogs are frogs. They come in all shapes and sizes but they’re still frogs. I just had to choose which one I wanted to spend my life with. So my frog quest began, and I fell in love.

It never occurred to me though, that my frog would come with excess baggage. That he’d be envious of those who were bigger, or browner, or could jump further. That he’d feel contempt for his lily-pad and want to jump on a new one. That he’d have issues with our tadpoles. That he’d have a need to sulk under a bush on a regular basis. That he’d moan that the flies were too small, or that I caught a fatter one than he did. That he’d want to go off and spend time with his frog friends for days on end. And I never knew he’d be able to croak so bloody loud.

Ok, enough about frogs.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

1 Corinthians 13:4

Bullshit.

The Corinthians lived in fucking la-la land.

Love can be impatient, love can be cruel. It does not always respect, nor consider, and it is not always fair. It is not always polite or charitable, it can be easily angered, and it always keeps records of wrongs. Love delights in revenge and rejoices with apologies. It rarely protects and rarely trusts.

What would make a sensible, intelligent woman remain in a destructive, abusive, dysfunctional relationship?

Love.

Because love always hopes… and it always perseveres.

Labels: Posted by Bitter

If one person knew the "Formula for Love", or could express it, then there would be no need for this Blog. Aristophanes and Socrates would be passe. As would Soble and everyone else...

So What the fuck Is love?

It's Not an idyllic state. It's torture. I think that's a necessary condition of love. The anguish. If you don't feel it then there is no love. You don't feel anguish if you have no feelings for a person-whether that be mere concern, caring, feelings of a sexual nature; even anger, lust. Love is anguish- it's back and forth torment.

And if it's not- then it's Not love.

People give up on love because it's easier than the hurt. They turn their back on love,even True Love, if the hurt is too much. Love is Not lovey-dovey. It's warts and all. Fuck Romeo and Juliet. Love is accepting, or trying to at least, the other person's faults. Love is Nothing it's cracked up to be.

Trust Me. I am in love.

There are no roses- no serenading. We fuck; we don't Make Love.There are sacrifices, compromises, letdowns, broken promises and lies. There are the good times too- but the shit outweighs the good. Throw in two kids and money troubles and drug addictions and alcoholism and a lack of communication and you can still love someone. You can. I do.

It's not good looks- though of course it never hurts to be pleasing to the eye; though if you can look at someone regardless of their lack of beauty and still genuinely care then that Is love. You love somebody in spite of their faults- even if you want them to change. But even if I want him to change- or He, I- neither of us will. Love makes you stubborn. Unmalleable.

What Is love? It's different for everybody. Few women would love what I love. Love is unique. It's between two people. They have boundaries and limits. They express love differently to other couples. How do you know when you're in love? When you feel sick at the thought of losing someone. When you know it's a very real possibility that you've gone too far, or said too much, this time. When you know they are thinking that it would be easier if they didn't have to deal with You.

Call this Dependency if you like but I need someone to catch me when I'm falling flat on my face. Love is more than a game; I don't mind losing at games but I don't lose my heart easily.

Love is asking someone to prove it to you again and again. I know that sounds needy but it isn't necessarily so...

PROVE IT. That's all. Do what you say. Say what you mean. Don't hide in tricks. You are only short-changing yourself in the long run if you do.

Because you'll never know if you truly love if you are guarded. You have to be vulnerable and open to being hurt. Time and time again if needs be. That's why it lasts. That's why I'm still here. Why my Hubby is still here.

Sadly- we pass on our guarded selves to our children- but we can't be anyone else. If we were any different- we would never have loved each other in the first place.

Love is being love-sick. That's the feeling that separates love from other emotions.

I may be the Buffoon- but I'm no fool...

Labels: Posted by Twisted