The Woman.

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As i was getting ready for bed today, I realized something rather interesting about us as females. Most of us are slightly obsessed with indulging ourselves in romantic fantasies. Meaning, our imagination takes new leaps as it reminds our heart of past events, or events that we wish to take place.

We sit on our bed at night, alone, touching our own arm and kissing our own shoulder, as we wished to be touched. And there isnt anything weird about it really. In fact, I think we just picture what we feel we deserve. How we want to be touched.

We want fire, romance, passion. And as far as Iknow.. even if we have that in our lives, we still picture it late at night.

And I wonder why we have to imagine these things in order for them to ‘occur.’ Have we really let our fantasy world overpower the real world? Why dont we take matters into our own hands and just say what we want and need in order for the romance to work?

So there you have it. Science dictates that men have what we call a more ‘active and detailed imagination’ when in reality, women do.

I want you to want me.

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I have dreams about what happened, and when i wake up, I see everything as it really is. Only, its exactly the same as my dream. And i feel overpowered by my own mind, controlling how much or how little I feel.

I want to believe that if we were able to love someone so completely, we would always have a place for them in our lives.

I want to be able to look at him, love him, without having to wonder whether he loves me or not. I dont think I should have to give up needing to be loved. No one should have to wonder. I need reassurance every now and then.

I am sick of having to question all the time.

Do you want me.

Do. You. Want. me…like ive always wanted you.

Love I Mean…

(unknown photographer)

(unknown photographer)

Last year something happened to me that caused me to look at my life in an entirely new way.

I made a very unlikely friend. Meaning, if you saw the two of us together you wouldn’t think twice by making the assumption we didn’t know each other. But we do.

He and I starting conversing whenever we had the time, which was, on most occasions, late at night. When everything else was quiet

We proceeded to learn from one another. We proceeded to grow.

And in that time we discovered that being with someone meant more than conversing.

It meant knowing that person well enough to be able to not talk at all.

To just…be.

To know that the man or woman sitting next to you wants to be in that moment with you.

Its a funny thing…..love i mean.

The Wisdom of a Child

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(Photo credit: Andy Prokh)

I used to wonder why I make friends more easily with children then I do adults.

I know now,  I don’t want anyone to feel like they own me, and in that regard, children are safe.

They cant and don’t want to own you, they love you to death and just want to play.

I think that’s cool. As a children’s photographer, it doesn’t seem like a ‘job’ to hang out with kids.

It’s more like, my social life more than anything. I find I can relate more to children than i can adults.

For example,

Child: *quietly whispers* : ‘ Today I ran into that chair *points to chair* and it hurt…..

Adult: *blank stare* : ‘Today Was fine. How was your day?’

Children are wise and full of knowledge. And to be honest, a lot more vulnerable, honest, and blunt than we as adults will ever be.

Kids make me smile.

Just a thought

ImageI’m the one who gently sits herself on her bed, grasping her legs- crying, in order to feel some satisfaction that the past really did happen.

That I am allowed to feel hurt. Used. Maybe manipulated the entire time.

And somewhere between sitting down and crying into my hands, I came to a conclusion.

I can’t get over the fact that I fell so deep for someone. I simply can’t come to terms with the difference in feelings we had for each other.

I can’t believe i am still hurting. For gods sake…

Why can’t I sleep anymore.

 

 

Posting Truth

Saatchi Online Artist NIEMAND corinne chaufour; Drawing, ""champ" de l'innocence  XXXXX IX" #art

People assume that individuals, such as myself, who post somewhat slow moving, ‘depressing’ thoughts, are in fact, miserable. 

I do not understand this. I just want to post my truth. 

 I feel as though I have felt everything I am going to feel in this life. and so here I am standing amid the hussle and bussle of peoples lives. This is how I feel for the moment. It is in fact about themoment, is it not?

I just want to post from the heart, mind and soul. I want to write melodic sentences that at least one individual can relate to. If i reach one person, I have succeeded. 

I need people to know that if they feel out of place because they know they see the world in a different way than everyone else, it isnt strange to feel like that. In fact, if you feel this way, congratulations. 

You have accepted you are different. You have an eye for something no one else will.

And I think that is quite swell.

Breathing.

Sometimes i like to just sit and breathe…

Other times I like to just sit.

After everything came to an end, breathing had become a foreign concept to me. The air wasnt tempting me anymore as it had done in the past. And manipulation now has a new meaning in its entirety. 

My body had become an object and my love had become invisible to this man who looked at me as if I was the worst thing  that had ever happened to him.

I hold myself at night, curled up in a ball..and cry silent sobs..why..why this..and why that…and why would I ever have sex with someone who doesnt love me…why didnt he kiss me….why didnt he talk to me…why didnt i see?

Other times i try to scream at my old self in my old memories ‘Wake up!!!’.. ‘Wake up!!’ 

And i dont, because i am trapped in that beautiful moment. When we were driving and you grabbed my hand and smiled at me.

You smiled….at me…

Did i mean something to you then? Could you have maybe..just maybe been in love with me at that moment?

I am not sure… and i will never know. But i hope one day you can look back at that moment and enjoy it once again…

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photo credit. Alexander Z.

I still feel you

Sometimes, when i wake up in the morning- my toes freezing and the air is ice cold- i can hear your voice whisper ‘come back to bed..’ i can feel you pull me back to your chest, the warmth enveloping me. Sometimes, i feel you like i always used to.

I usually just continue to slip out of bed and proceed to throw on a sweatshirt and put my socks on, but one time i looked back at the sheets- out of mere curiosity. To see if you were still there. To see if..maybe i was still dreaming. I could only hear myself breathe in heavily as i turned my head just enough…..

Empty. The sheets were bare and ice cold.

As I let go of my breathe I felt the sadness spill over my body- aching once again as if it hadnt moved in its entire lifetime. It was as if…this was the first time i tried to keep going. The first time I kept breathing.

I hate the fact that every morning I sit on my bed for an hour holding my own hand. gently moving my thumb over the back of my hand as you once used to.

I hate how I have to look in the mirror while i brush my teeth now, as if im trying to figure out what is wrong with me.

I hate how my mind plays back wonderful memories as if they really were wonderful to the both of us.

Sometimes I fall asleep and I can hear you say something. I think I can make it out… Sometimes I almost feel you say it. 

The truth is…most mornings I am awoken by hearing you say my name.

And i cry because I wish it were real..

The Hardest Thing.

The hardest thing I have ever had to do, is fail time and time again.

The hardest thing I have ever had to see, is someones eyes deceive me.

The hardest thing I have ever had to feel, is a mans touch promising more but giving less.

The hardest thing I have ever had to hear, is a silence, in a room I know well.

The hardest thing I have ever had to learn, is sometimes, sometimes it doesn’t matter how many chances there are.

The hardest thing I have ever had to admit, was, I was wrong.

The hardest thing I have ever had to plan, is a conversation that didn’t go as planned.

The hardest thing I have ever had to taste, was my own bitterness that went to waste.

The hardest thing I have ever had to be is someone else, someone not like me.

The hardest thing I have ever had to give up, was my arrogance, and that one was tough.

The hardest thing I have ever had to move, was the wall between what I could and could not do.

The hardest thing I have ever had to break, were my inclinations for monotonous security.

The hardest thing I have ever had to accept, was they were here and then they left.

The hardest thing I have ever had to hold, is myself, at night, when I was cold.

The hardest thing i have ever dared, is to love someone who didn’t care.

The hardest thingI have ever known, is, there are people who die alone.

The hardest thing I have ever had to say was ‘I love you,’ but in the wrong moment, on the wrong day.

The hardest things, the hardest pain, are broken promises that are never explained.

The hardest thing I have ever had to do, is keep dreaming…even though I was told not to.