Dont Come to me for a Watered Down Love

Im facing a bit of a dilemma at the moment.

This space, though obviously not private in the true sense has always been safe to speak out in, because the people i have met here have been open minded and generally tolerant. Im not saying there arent bigotted and nasty bloggers (both who read and write are included in this definition), but i hvae been fortunate enough to have almost no interaction with them.

I never write to fit accepted social norms. I havent kept my life a secret, either on this blog or in the 'real' world. But in both places, my choices, opinions, views, though not always met with agreement, were always met with tolerance.

What Im trying to say, is that I have led a very sheltered existance, and am thus unused to being judged. Though in theory, and occasionally in practise, I KNOW what kind of reaction my decisions and lifestyle will bring out in educated, intelligent, conservative sections of our society, actually hvaing to deal with said reactions is exhausting.

I have been evicted from my closet to be honest. Or rather, I woke up to find that the back wall of my closet disappeared and the world was staring in, watching me dance around my living room to revolting love songs wearing My Little Pony flip flops and my boyfriends boxers. Its not the best feeling.

However, we (thats me and the new personality I developed due to the psychotic break i suffered at being discovered in boxers and flipflops slow dancing with a pillow to 'unbreak my heart') have decided that this is the year we are going to become proper grown ups. We live away from our parents, we earn money (not a lot but some), we share our life with another grown up who has given us much to want to be grown up about (and we thank him most affectionately), so we can deal with gossip and disapproval and outrage.

And I smoke too!

"... crazy"

You scare me.

Not because you are going to fast, or because of the scary lecture that you gave me some nights ago.

You scare me because it would be so easy to just let go.

To trust that this will not end without a good reason, that you wont ever see me like I do, that you wont wake up one morning and wonder why there is a child sleeping in the bed next to you, instead of a grown up.

To let you become my life completely and be deliriously happy when we meet after work (or whatever I would call it then) and know that there is no other place that either of us would want to be.

To know that this is real.

Not a foolish whim, or a another way to find what you had been looking for for years and have suddenly found, in someone that may not interest you once you've made up for what you had lost.

I know, that if fell in love with you, it would be the kind of love that scares me when I see it in other people. That repulses me in movies and songs and the old couple snuggling on a park bench. All consuming. Overwhelming. The kind of love you could drown in if you arent careful.

So I have to be careful.

I could live inside you so easily baby, without thinking or noticing I had moved. Without regretting anything that I would have left behind. Because I would have you.

You scare me because if I came to depend on what I sometimes see in your eyes now, I would die if you stopped looking at me like that.

No, not die. You cant die of a broken heart.

You can only pine for a lifetime, curled up in a backalley of your mind, begging passing shadows to have mercy and kick you to death. Living on the memory of a kiss you shared years ago.

So im scared. Not conflicted, not unsure, not averse to changing my facebook status without being asked. Just scared.

That i will love you like a foolish child, and you will love me like a dignified adult.

Lets Talk About Sex

Why is it so important to the average homo sapien to get laid? So much of our lives revolve around it. So many of us define who we are by how much of it we have, and who we can convince to do it with us.

What does it mean to you?

Admittedly, I have not had a great deal of experiance, in my short but illustrious career as an adult, but I must be missing something huge. I really cant understand the human obsession with sex. Especially now, when as a race we've turned sex into something rather inconsequential.

Dont get me wrong i dont think sex is a sacred act between two people or any such shit, but the thing that always made sex special for me was how I felt about the person i was with.

How does that translate into a random act of intercourse?

Animal passion has quite a lot going for it, and if you find it with someone, Hell go for it! But when sex can be cheapened so easily, shouldnt we be more careful?

Shouldnt sex be more than just a sensory sound and light show in your pants?

No Title

It has been a long time since I have felt the urge to just sit here and talk. I have after all a captive audience, and even if my loyal few decide not to read this particular litany, I would never know!

The truth is, Ive been searching for something grand and explosive to inspire me. Something that will leave my fingers and colour this page and scream out what a fantastic piece of writing it is. It isnt like the old days anymore. Now the things that I write have to be 'real' writing, whatever the hell that is. And its all because of the fucking labels.

(yohan I know youre a fan of the labelling, and there is going to be some bashing of it here, so you might want to stop reading now)

We label everything. I sit down to write and even before I type out a singe line I have to think, "what will I label this piece? I cant write just anything, it has to fit into a label!!!" Not the most conducive to writng a masterpiece. Though honestly, blogspots over enthusiastic organistion sickness isnt the real problem. I have been compelled to label myself and I chose the label of writer.

So obviously, now I cant write a bloody thing.

Its so infuriating. I have always hated labels, because the minute you have one you have a content, a list of ingredients, a recommended use and, worst of all, a best before date. Do we really have to go through life being followed by an expiration date??

I refused to be labeled a gurlfriend by any boy for years because people always got this knowing look in their eyes when they heard you being called that. It drove me crazy. (I relented eventually because not being able to call the gurl youre 'with' your gurlfriend leads to massive insecurity and drama queen tantrums, which is much worse than being equivalent to your average canned good {Canned good because they are almost all label [My god my writing has sunk to this level].}, but thats a different post altogether).

My point, yes there is a point, is this.

Once youve been labeled, youre fucking screwed.

So in the spirit of rebellion, I declare tomorrow official Un-Label Day! Get together and burn your labels! Celebrate your metaphorical nakedness!

Please dont stop reading my blog. Ill get better I swear.