moth · dust · and · broken · wings

COME AND HANG OUT IF YOU'RE IN THE LOS A NGELES AREA!!!!

SATURDAY AUGUST 16, 2008

life is insane. i'm so tired of people i love hurting inside. i'm tired of hurting inside. 

i'm happy most of the time now, thank God. i go through periods of feeling a little 'lost'. i don't know where it stems from really...it's always been there. i was so sad when i was younger. (this was before i met mike) it's weird...literally in the course of a year i went from "normal" to so depressed and angry with the world. i wasn't myself. i wasn't the person i had been my whole life.  how does that happen? what snaps inside? what changes so drastically to change your countenance?

i know what it was in my case. i know exactly. age 19 was the end of innocence.

but what about others?

are people inherently evil? i don't believe so. i believe everyone hurts inside and run from the pain by filling themselves up with other things...some things positive, some things negative.

running

running from themselves.

why run?

hiding from the truth of what and who you are will never fill you up. it will never heal the gaping wound of your heart.

BE YOURSELF

i love you, when you're YOU...and not wearing a mask. i love the wrinkles and grey hairs, although i am not ready to embrace my grey hairs just yet! ;) but i love them all the same. i love your honest flaws.

the least of my disguises is with you right now.

we all wear them.

we all hide something from someone.... be it an opinion, a physical flaw, an action.

we hide.

why?

afraid of rejection.

afraid of looking like a fool.

afraid of being seen for the weak, sad, ugly human we may or may not be.

none of us are inherently evil. none of us are ugly. you may pick up your Ugly Mask, but this does not make you ugly.

unless you sew the mask on and keep it there. bolt it in place with bloody, clinched fingers. let the mask's thread root into your skin until its fingers pry themselves into your brain and anchor themselves to your heart.

let your heart go black.

then you are ugly.

the problem is we can't tell what is a mask and what has taken root.

i try very hard not to wear masks. i try to open my heart and lay it bare. i try to accept others for who and what they are....beyond even what is expected of me...making excuses for "ugly" behaviour....

but we all have it in us.

it only matters if you realize it and make it stop.

Home

There was a tinkling in the air. Silverware and mirrors hanging from wires clinking songs from the back porch. It was almost dark, almost, it's almost always dark.

The smell of sugar and vanilla filled the room. She'd spent the last two hours cutting intriciate cookies from soft white dough and decorating them just so. Each piece was unique; a flower, an umbrella, a tiny duck with yellow icing and blue eyes, a psychedelic mushroom with purple and orange spots.

She smiled as each cookie was finished setting them on a white china platter with tiny pink rosebuds painted so delicately. She had made an elaborate feast. The guests would arrive soon and then so would he.

She took the flour dusted apron off and looped it through the refrigerator handle and then skipped upstairs as the tiny grey striped cat followed her. She went into the bathroom to wash her face and hands. The water smelled sweet, well water, ice cold and soft. She brushed her teeth and then dried herself and walked to the bedroom. Their room.  

She walked to the closet pulling open the white washed door and then perused the fanciful dresses she'd made from discarded old formals. She peeled her teeshirt and jeans off tossing them aside and then reached for the cotton candy pink dress she'd made from a wedding gown she'd dipped in red dye. The sleeves were removed and the skirt was cut just above her knees and billowed out in thick wispy layers of  jagged organza speckled with rhinestones. She dressed and then pulled her hair back securing it with a white velvet ribbon. She walked to the bureau dusting herself with powder and sweetening her lips with strawberry gloss.

The doorbell rang. She smiled and ran downstairs stubbing her bare toe against the railing as she hit the downstairs floor. She hopped and reached over to see a small tear where her nail had been slightly torn from its bed. A thin ribbon of blood ran along the underside of her toenail. She frowned and bit her lip and continued to the door.

Seven people sauntered in dressed in their whimsical finery and holding elaborately decorated packages of all sizes. She smiled and lead them all to the dining room where the table was laid out with flowers and mismatched china and silver. They set their gifts on the table and asked when he'd be there.

She smiled and told them all. Soon.

Everyone smiled and laughed as music played, pretty notes of some kind that swirled like heaven birds around the room. Candles flickered in the waning night. Deep purple walls and glittering mirrors reflected the smiles and dancing light of the strung white lights and candles.

Then the sound of gravel grinding as his car pulled into the driveway.

"Shh!" she reprimanded in her sweet way as they skittered to hide.

She crouched behind the wall peering towards the door as she heard each footstep across the porch. His keys jangled as he unlocked the door. He paused a moment sensing a frenetic stillness he was unaccustomed to hearing but had heard before on an evening such as this.

Unable to control herself she ran for the door squealing with glee as she threw the door open and shouted, "Surprise!".

He stood in place as she jumped into his arms squeezing him with all the strength in her body.

"Happy birthday!" the friends cheered and laughed knowing in advance she would be unable to contain herself.

He set her softly down on the floor smiling passed her at their friends and then looked down at her beaming face.

It was good to be home.

Twenty Two

Roman threw his keys down on the dresser. The sound of the metal hitting the veneer and streaking across the surface was shockingly loud. He jerked his shoulders and let the jacket fall to the floor. He unscrewed the bottle of whiskey and took a swig tugging at the bottom of his shirt with his other hand. He set the bottle down and pulled the tee shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. He picked the bottle up again and fell down on the bed and hit his head on the headboard.

“Fuck!” he growled rubbing his hand back and forth briskly across his pounding skull.

He took another swig of whiskey swallowing a quarter of the bottle. The sky was dead black besides the moon which had a ghostly halo around it foretelling the approaching snow. The room had a soft pale blue glow from the neon sign drifting through the window.  It stunk of dust and old carpet. He had no idea where he’d go. He didn’t want to go anywhere. He picked up the remote control that sat beside the bed and turned the television on. The plastic felt sticky in his hands. He didn’t want to know why it was sticky. He took another mouthful from the bottle and set it down on the night stand. He blindly switched through the channels completely unaware of what he saw. His mind still raced going over all that had happened, watching her walk away with Lux, feeling the witch’s neck in his hands begging to be broken. He picked the bottle up again and drank some more then turned the TV off and threw the remote across the room at the wall shattering it into a dozen pieces. He looked over at the nightstand and saw the wrapper and still full cup of soda. He slumped down onto the bed resting the bottle on his chest and he shut his eyes.