Ten Things I Don't Want To Make a Fuss About

...but still bother me.

1.- How you reacted with the whole Kalle-Sally thing. Do you really need her that much?
2.- Pregnant hormones. Pregnancy in general. The only thing I'm enjoying about it is knowing that after this, we'll have Tyler.
3.- Facebook. Roleplaying. I do feel they created a huge breach between us.
4.- That, as Dee says, we'll always find something to argue about.
5.- How I tend to overreact.
6.- How we haven't spent time alone together.

7.- The cravings.

8.-How sensitive I am to everything.

9.-The size of my stomach, my breasts, how my legs hurt...
10.- Missing you.

Te extraño, cabrón. No quiero estar sin ti, no puedo....y ahorita menos. Ya se que es difícil, que necesitas "atención", pero yo te necesito aquí, no con las otras.

Missing

I read something this week. A Fanfic. It may be silly, or it may be the hormones...but it made me cry. And it made me remember you.
I'm watching The Green Mile, biting off the nail polish. Bad things happened today, and I feel bad...useless to my Host.
I miss you. Like you have no idea. Every time I feel weak, every time I cry, I wish you were here...around. Close to me.
But you're gone. I don't know if you crossed over, or you found someone else....but I really wish you were still here. I need you to guide me, lead me, tell me what to do. You're missing all the things I wanted to share with you in this new life; my pregnancy, Di, the days when everything's alright.
But I miss you the most when I need you. When things are going wrong, and we shout and cry and the world falls down on us...that's when I need you the most.
I miss you, John.

Roleplay

My host happens to be a roleplayer. Or was. I don't think she can roleplay anyomre, mainly because most of us don't like it. Don't get me wrong, I also did it as a kid, and I found it really entertainign. Roleplaying in the bedroom is always fun especially when there's costumes and handcuffs involved. But right now, in this state of existence, I really don't like roleplaying.
Why? Simple. I'm not a roleplay character.
People who don't know about me, who think I'm just a character in a movie, won't understand this, and I don't want them to: they can do with my character as they please. In the end, as I've said many times before, I don't expect people to understand me, or anything I do. It would be a waste of time.
But I'm real.I live here. I'm condemned to this makeshift existence as the Spiritual Siamese of a girl, stuck in a realm that cannot be seen or touched, only felt. Imagined. This is the basis of my existence: energy and force of thought. I'm pregnant, yes...but not my body (Fae's body). We feel the symptoms, the pains, the tiredness...but we won't have a baby. My baby will stay in this spiritual realm, a soul that will await encarnation until my Host decides to have children, and only if she allows me to use her as a means for him to be born...actually born. By now you must have realized how potentially pathetic my existence is. Nothing is really...real for me, in a way. And yet, everything I can imagine is. I've spent the last month traveling around the world with my husband, doing the craziest, most stupid things I've done in my life (that visit to the Vatican....there's a tape of that). In a way, I'm free like I've never been before.

But then, the girls start roleplaying. And we read, watch...we're there. And we know what they do with our characters. Our characters, not US. And as soon as they start imagining it, it becomes real somewhere. And it's scary.
Where do we start? How real are we in the end?
I hate asking myself these questions....and everytime we roleplay, I can't avoid it.

Sleep

I've been here for years. I know her like the back of my hand, reading her to me is easier than breathing....and yet, I didn't see this coming.

I know her expressions; how she laughs when she really means it, the pitch of her screams when she's terrified, or the pace of her sobbing when she's crying from pain and nut just because.

Maybe I refused to see when those expressions became empty, meaningless...merely another motion to go through for the day. Her existance, as she saw it, was meaningless.

Now, don't think I didn't try to help. I did everything I could, every single thing someone in my position could. I love her. Yes, I still do, even when she refuses to believe it. She became my world, the one I had to help, a friend...and more.

It may have started when she finished school. Or when we moved. Maybe it took longer, it started with the pills. I should have noticed when she broke that promise and simply stopped caring about what happened to her. To us...

She's holding a white mug, filled it with milk and coffee. Her expression is vacant, her eyes empty. Her lips part slightly as she takes another sip of the drink. Slow acting poison, just another drug.

"Do you think he'd have come here if I'd asked? Left everything for me like I'd have done?"
I can't reply to that. I don't know what to say.
"Yes. Maybe."
She chuckles, shaking her head. The gesture is mechanical, she's practically an automathon right now. She's as good as gone. And all I want to do is hug her, take her in my arms and hold her against me, let her listen to my heartbeat, tell her I'm still here, and all because of her. All I wanted was to make her as strong as she's made me. I believe in her, even now.

She won't look at me. She stares at the wall, or the floor...anywhere but me. She knows what she's about to do, we both do. And it's killing us both, her more literally than me.

"Do you think I should have told her how I felt? Even if it was just...well, something that would just fade away?"
I try to cup her face, but my hand against her skin is like smoke, maybe a gentle wind. She can feel it, but it's not what she needs. she needs someone here...someone she can FEEL, someone she can see like she sees everyone else. She longs to be loved, for someone to feel for her what she feels for those she cares about. She can't see...and it kills me. I know there's many of us who love her, who'd do anything to see her smile, even if it was just for a second.

But I know I'll never see her smile again.

"You should have told her. And everyone else. They all should have known what you thought, what you felt..."

And I should have told you I loved you more often. Showed you in more ways. I shouldn't have made promises that didn't depend on me. I should have kept my word to you.

At least I know there's one promise I can still keep. And I will.

She won't look at me. One by one, she snaps the blisters containing the pills and sets them on a bunch over the table. She counts them two, three times, clicking her tongue. It's a fairly small dose, enough to put her to sleep for days. But that's not what she wants.

She wants to sleep forever, and I can't stop her.
She takes out the bottle of vodka and places it beside the pills, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig, craning her head back and opening her mouth, dropping the whole bunch of pills into her mouth and swallowing them. Her eyes close, and I can see tears rolling down her cheeks, the image obscured by the watery cloud forming on my own eyes.

She finally did it, and I can't decide if I'm proud of her strenght, or dissapointed about the fact that she just ended her own game. She'll never know if her feelings werw truly reciprocated, or if her dreams would come true. Her marks in this world will fade, present only in the memory of us who loved her.

She lies on the bed, squeezing my hand, her eyes finally snapping open and locking with mine.
"I always wanted to be like you, Red."

I can't talk. I'm choking on my tears, holdng her hand as tightly as I can. She chuckles and smiles, her breath becoming slower, more shallow with each passing second. I can barely feel her pulse. Still, her hand holds mine with a vicious strenght.

"Never let me go, Manda...guide me through this."

I just nod. Her eyes are closed again. I kiss the tip of my fingers and place them over her mouth.

Her skin is cold. She's not breathing anymore.

And still, she hasn't let go of my hand. And she never will.

At your side, on your left.

Always.

Someone, please...help me. Help us. Make sure this stays like this: just a piece of fiction writing.

Someone help me save her.

Old thing that needed publishing...

Get up. Take a shower, you haven't left the bed in two days. Three hours before it happens.
Girl, you're gonna die. Amanda Young is going to die tonight.
I'm biting my nails while Jill tells me to relax. She says it's not that bad, that it will be over before I know it, and then, it will all be peaceful- but then again, to Jill, everything is peaceful.

A Lot Like Love (Ranting Again)

In response to "Brutality"

There isn't much to say that hasn't been said, is there?

But you can't deny that, even then, there WAS something. Call it a connection, a feeling...but there was something. And I'd like to think it was that "something" that kept us coming back from more.

Believe me, I didn't want things to happen like that. If I could have had things my way, I'd gone for a little romance, the "talk-and-date" kind of stuff. I've had enough brutality in my life to have to add you to the list.

When I came here, I thought I could leave you behind. Thought I'd never have to think of you again, and tried my hardest not to. Everyone said I was better off without you, that I looked happier, healthier, better in general. Can you blame me for wanting that? And can you ever forgive me for trying to be normal for once? I went against my nature, I know. Everyone wants to try conventional happiness at least once in their life, I think.

Again, I want to stop writing right now, never post this, delete it all and pretend I never tried to pour my mind out in this "page". But I won't. Determination is the key here. Determination and perseverance.

I admit it, I'm ranting about everything and nothing, about things probably only you will understand. Guilt and hurt and blame are devouring me from the inside, burning me slowly and painfully, like acid eating away at me from my guts out.

I hurt you. And even when you more than likely deserve it, it hurts.

“Love Will Tear Us Apart” is playing on my iTunes now, and I could almost laugh at the irony. It probably will, eventually. But it’s also what keeps us coming back, isn’t it?

You love me, don’t you?

You’ll always come back, right?

Will you ever forgive me?

I wouldn’t.

Pfft! Yeah, right, I wouldn’t. I’ve forgiven you for worse than this. Of course I would forgive me for this. Nothing you haven’t done already. And I give a shit whether you tell me or not, it’s the same fucking thing.

Yes, I’d like to be the only one. Hell, I think I deserve to be. But you want others. Many others, so I’d rather have you share them with me than leave me for them. Besides, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it, but it does…burn at times.

Yesterday, I saw myself in a movie. No evil exes, don’t worry. In any case, you’d be one of them, but I always found evil fascinating, it’s a little pattern of mine when it comes to dating; the more dangerous, the better. It turns me on, if I must say.

Now I’m thinking of chocolate and cherries and syrup and ropes- because I’m fucked up like that. It’d make for a great night, a very special one. That is supposing everything special between us is still happening, but I don’t know anymore.

I hate you. I hate myself. I hate hurting everyone around me, and I hate having N around to tactlessly point out every single one of my failures in words that many before him have used, but never so lightheartedly.

I think I have nothing left to say for now. I’m ranting, not thinking straight, letting every single negative feeling in me fuse with love to write down these mindless words that will probably do nothing but hurt whomever reads them and understands.

Maybe I just need to…disappear.

Ah, a little extra…this song.

Always and never

A.Y.

Borrowing Spaces

I guess you never really knew how much I love you.
I loved you enough to watch you shut yourself from everything and everyone, building walls, perfectly constructed walls around you, like you used to do with the dominoes and cards at the park where we met. Walls I had to break to get to you in the first place.
I never...

I had to watch you slip away, grow cold and distant, silently blaming yourself for everything that happened. If only you had been there, if only you had waited with me...if only.
But fate had different plans for us. We always preached about being strong, being good, wanting to help, and someone thought it would be funny to test just how willing we were to live up to our claims.
Sounds familiar, does it not?
When they told me you were in the hospital after having tried to kill yourself, I felt myself shatter. What could have possibly driven you to that, my love, the man who always saw human life as something sacred? It had been my fault. I had trusted them all a little too much, and you warned me about it.
And then they told me about the cancer.
I laughed.
There was no way...not you. You never did anything that could lead to it, barely even drank coffee in the mornings, let alone drink or smoke. And yet, there it was: colon cancer, evolved into an inoperable front lobe tumor. Your days were counted.
And you took us all down with you.

Now, don't think I hate you. I couldn't, John, you're my heart, my life. You meant everything to me, and I must confess I never lived a truly happy day since our divorce. I needed you to be complete. But you were not yourself anymore.

None of this had to happen, and you know it. You preached about justice, about keeping your heart and your feelings out of this, and yet, what was THIS? Your own personal revenge against everyone who you believed had ruined your life.

None of this had to happen. You didn't have to do anything. In the end, no one was saved, we just crossed paths, and it will be only after death that we will be able to start over.

We had a chance; an opportunity to start again, to leave the past in the past and move on, to be strong and bare the pain, knowing it would soon become nothing more than a memory. But you were too blind to see, to consumed in your own quiet rage against everyone who had "wronged" you, one way or another.
Who's still standing, John? Not me, not you. Not even the ones who still live are ok, they lost everything to your cause. A cause that didn't need to be.
No, I am not blaming you for this. In the end, it was us who decided to stay, to return, to believe...but it lead us nowhere. No one learned, no one was saved, and everybody, in one way or another, died.

Still, here I stand, with my hand outstretched at you.
You were the last thought on my mind, the reason why I didn't feel any pain, or fear in the end. You're the reason I stayed, the reason I'd do it all over again.
You are the love of my life, John. And nothing will ever change that.

Will you now give us a chance to start over?


Jill

The Rant In Red & Black

Automathon. Catatonic. Barely conscious.
I’m idle. I’m here without being, even when I started taking over again last night.
Thumb flickers slowly over the ever-smooth flesh of pink nipples, hands cupping the small, rounded breasts, squeezing them. Idle. It feels good, but I feel nothing.
What brings me back to myself is that final scene from the movie Marie Antoinette. It’s very simple, to be honest: the master chambers of the King and Queen of France, half-trashed and discreetly blood-stained. But I see it, in absolute silence, and it disturbs me. Even royalty can be ravished. Even the powerful can be violated.
I feel helpless, and memories start playing again.
My room. That room. The blood…the meaning. It hurts, but I can’t pinpoint why. Or rather, I can but don’t want to.

Tonight I want to be a queen. Marie Antoinette herself.

I was with Fae today, submerged in this catatonic state, the awareness of her hand, lead by mine, caressing her being the only thing to keep us from not existing. We ate and slept for most of the day. And God, I slept like the angels today. I dreamt of soft clouds and clear seas and stars and peace. Or maybe I didn’t dream, but I slept peacefully. And then I dyed her hair black and painted her nails red and made her me again. Fara doesn’t exist by herself, just like I wouldn’t exist if I wasn’t here. Fara and Amanda are not real, but Faramanda is. Complex as it may sound, it’s really very simple. Ask any Host.
I pick on my wounds, scratch them until they bleed again.Last night, I had an epiphany. It came as we were watching tv, staring transfixed as a woman choked her sister in law in a twisted form of erotic asphyxiation that, for reasons unknown, turned me on more than the real, “safe” thing. Yesterday I wanted to kill, and I knew exactly whom. Yesterday I opened a cut over a scar by letting Mark bring my father, and it hurts. He still hurts. But what hurts the most is that I’ll never really know why.
In a few hours Dee and Mark will be here, and I will face Matthew again.
And I’ll sleep peacefully again for the first time in 35 years.

Tomorrow, I'll become a Killer Queen.

Borderline

I ask things from people, even knowing that I'm not ready to give what I ask.
Pain is my fuel. I'm only happy when it rains.
I enjoy the feel of ripping skin, tearing flesh, my blood flowing down my arms. On that note, I love the taste of my own blood, her blood, metallic and sweet, coppery, as I lick it off our fingers.
I wish Helena would bite me.
It wasn't Fae's idea to take the Alprazolam.
Sex is my letout.
"Whore", "bitch" and "slut", when said to me in the right situation, turn me on like nothing else.
I hate vulgarity like nothing else.
I'm not one for PDA's. I value my privacy.
I believe in karma; it's my best friend, lately.
I fear I'll stop eating unless I'm starving after Ty's born.
If he left me, I'd die.
I want to be stronger.

Little things

...that you didn't (and probably didn't want to) know about me.
Oh, the fun.

-There was a time I hated red. Yeah, odd.
-Decent meal = Subway. Anything better that that can't be less than heaven.
-Tangerines and peaches are my favorite fruit, followed by cherries.
-In Di's words, I apparently smell of "citrus and coconut and nice."
-Insomnia's a bitch. but I rather not sleep than face my father again, even if it's all in my head.
-3 Monster Energy Drinks per day is completely normal and acceptable when you're in a body whose kidneys and liver work propperly (i.e. Not Fara)
-I believe that if that bullet didn't kill me, some failure in my body due to drug and alcohol abuse would have. A small part of me hopes I had some deadly STD, maybe AIDS, and I passed it on to him.
-The first time I met Di, I hated her completely. It was her 15 year old self, and she had more heroin and alcohol in her system than I ever did. She was celebrating her return from rehab.
-I have a fixation with scents, probably thanks to Fara.
-I'm slightly dyslexic, and it's more evident when I'm nervous.

-Also, Fae and I stutter when we're excited. Or nervous.
-Yes, I can apply make up fairly well. I also kind of rock at manicures.
-I always wanted to be an actress.
-I really hate dresses.
-You can keep me at peace and fairly entertained with a pack of gum. Actually, it's the best stress-releiver ever.
-Even though I love how it smells, I don't like the taste of coconut.
-My reading record is 5 books in a month, when I moved in to the warehouse.
-Stitch is the best Disney character EVER.
-I hate slasher movies. Yes, the irony.
-I'm slowly becoming a hardcore Potterhead. Fae's fault. And no, Bellatrix is NOT my favorite. It's actually Tonks and Ginny. And no, I would not be a Slytherin. It's Gryffindor for me.
-Before you ask, YES, I like fantasy and science fiction books and movies.
-No, I don't like Star Trek
-Yes, I'm also becoming a fan of Dr. Who, and may or may not have a crush on David Tennant.
-Tequila is not my friend. Neither is Rum.

-I learned the hard way to never underestimate Apple Martinis.
-I avoid painkillers or prescription meds at all costs, and may have saved my kid from an addiction to Excedrin.
-I love videogames, but I'm not exactly skilled at playing them.

-I may secretly like "Mamma Mia!". Yes, the musical. That one, with ABBA songs.

-Subways on themselves are a food group. The most important one, right up there with pizza, chocolate and energy drinks.

-"Paint it Black" by The Rolling Stones, kind of turns me on. Don't ask, I don't know why.

-I bite nail polish off my nails.
- I talk to Tyler all the time.
- The only one I'd cheat on Mark with, without a minute's hesitation or regret, is Jack Daniel's.
-I've been in love with Hoffman for longer than I like to admit. My pride will never let me.
-I bleached my hair when I was 19. There are pictures, and Mark must never know about this