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Dani's 'Ramble On' (Questions/comments welcome)

Danica

Meteorite
Joined
Jun 29, 2015
Location
U.S.A.
Mood: Wired
Music: Zeppelin, of course. {(See Subject)}


Thought I’d try my hand at this Journal thing. Seems like fun. I had one of those Blurty’s back in the day. Anyone remember those?
I did look my old one back up. It’s been almost 9 years or something, it was still there. The site has recently went down. So it’s pretty likely it won’t be there next time. Sort of makes me wish I had backed up everything. I got a few little tid bits off of it at least. I think it’s always interesting to go back and see where I used to be. And how much I’ve improved. Another 9 years and I’ll definitely have something to prove.

My favorite writing partner is on hiatus at the moment. He spoils me, I think. Never met an idea that scared him, that one. It’s so nice when you click instantly with a writing partner. No muss, no fuss. Just immediate understanding. No one has to tiptoe around rudeness or egos. Just a mutually beneficial partnership. Too many people believe they are superior, Lording over lesser writers like it’s some gift to write with them. All I can say is if you are here you probably Rp, and that usually means you have the same sickness as I. The need to throw your creative ideas into text and see them come alive through your words. To sit at the computer and bleed. In my opinion, that we have in common, and for that alone you have my respect. My acknowledgment of our shared disease.

Writers are very much like a sub-species of the human race. We can understand one another in a way that the ‘normal’ population will never grasp. We all share a deep-seeded yearning for creation and manipulation of the written word that can surpass even our basic survival instincts for sleep, sustenance, and social connection.
People without this need will always believe us to be mad, the oddities of our behavior will forever baffle them. But even in being cast out of the social circles that all people struggle most of their adolescence to fit into, we still refuse to be dissuaded from tossing our thoughts and imaginative ideas into the void of pen and text. Leaving ourselves open to criticism and ridicule (or, by some miracle, praise,) for the reason that we simply… must.
It’s within our blood, swimming in our veins, coursing through our souls. Crying out, screaming to gain absolute control. And we will always surrender, cracking our knuckles over a worn keyboard and continue, over and over again to pour our very selves out onto the page. We give everything to it, sacrifice all for that one moment of creative expression. We struggle to gain experience and eloquence, to become better at something that could sometimes I suppose give us fortune and fame, but will most often only leave us struggling our entire lives to keep our relationships and parental acceptance in tact.

With my partner gone I’ve been stalking BMR, looking for something to quench that fire in his absence and hopefully beyond. I’ve already met so many talented writers here and I’m having a lot of fun. That’s what matters, the fun.

I really appreciate you all that have been kindly enough to write with me.

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-I don’t usually get personal, but this is a journal, right? So, here goes.-

Mood: Thoughtful
Music: Zedd-Stay the night

I’m sitting here with my coffee and cigarettes. Even when I don’t have the kids I still end up waking up at the crack of dawn, actually before the crack of dawn, it’s still very much dark outside. I’ve already been up over an hour. I tried to go back to sleep. I don’t have any obligations for some hours yet. But of course, sleeping for more than 6 hours is impossible for me. There was a time in my marriage when I was sleeping for 12 or 14 hours a night. But I was neither happy nor healthy.

The divorce was finally finalized. Say that five times. We were put through these tests, we had to see therapists and a couples counselor. It might be weird I’m still seeing the therapist. But I liked her, a bubbly little blonde that uses trite little cliches. She makes up for it by elaborating on why they work. “Behind every rhyme there is a reason.” It’s nice to have someone put certain things in perspective especially when your going through a messy divorce.

We tried to keep it as civil as possible, but when you’ve been in a relationship for 10+ years it’s hard to do that. Words get tossed around, feelings get hurt. I have to admit there were a couple of occasions that I went into a defensive level and didn’t hold back. My words can be venomous when I’m pushed past my inhibitions. And when you know one another for that long you always know exactly where to poke a sharp stick. Cheating, adultery, addiction, dishonesty and all that is interesting and dramatic in a story, but in reality.. It’s devastating. Life altering. Destroying. I forgave and dealt with it far longer than I ever care to admit. It can twist an open, optimistic person into someone cold and cynical. I fear that by the time I reached the point of being done it was too late.

The boys spent a lot of time with my aunt. I shielded them from whatever I could. Everything is settled again now. Routines firmly established. I have some OCD with routines. I think it came from my grandparents, where supper was 5:30 sharp or you didn’t eat.

I’ve gone on and on long enough. And I owe some posts, so off I go. I leave you with a little piece from my abandoned Tumblr.



Diamond Hearts

They say that time will heal. That pain eventually dulls. Then how is it that one simple reminder can send you back years and days and minutes and seconds, across miles and thousands of emotions right back to that moment that your heart was torn out of your chest and beaten to a bloody pulp by bare hands? It happens you know. It’s not dull, it’s not faded. It’s as sharp and vivid as if you were there again. Your gut clenches, skin burning and prickling with cold at the same time, that nausea is still there. It’s not going anywhere. So long as you’re trapped in that memory you’re re-living every single second of that endless anguish. Sometimes though, with enough practice you can hold the heaving angry sobs at bay, but other times they flow. Tearing out those salty tears until there’s nothing left of you but a dry empty shell. Hollow and -thank whatever god you pray to- numb. That person you were a day before is no more. Then you remember, finally you know who you are again, you pick yourself up out of your misery and you cradle that broken thing inside of you, you press it tight, press it into something new, harder, it’s a stone now. It may have cracks and dents and will never again be the pure fragile thing it once was. You’ll go back again, eventually, and feel it all again. With the next reminder you’ll be there. The damage is done. You know, coal is like that, with enough time and pressure it will be a diamond someday. Enjoy your diamond hearts, next time they aren’t so easily broken.

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