Musings of a Muse

[Erato]

"There Is Always a Silver Lining, Sometimes You Just Have to Make One Yourself"


Life is not fair. People will inevitably let you down even if they don't mean to. A wound long neglected hurts most when it heals. These are all universal truths that every person on the planet has come to know at least once or twice in their life, and yet when we are slapped across the face with them, how quickly we raise our fists at the sky and rail against that which we cannot change no matter how much we have the will and desire to do so.
When you see a pothole in the road, the logical thing to do is to avoid it at all costs. But it becomes increasingly more difficult when that pothole wears the face of a person whom you hold in high regard or even love. Even when you know they'll let you down in the end, the human heart implores that you still walk forward and is often the first thing that is shattered next to pride when you pitch forth into the darkness.
I have never owned a journal. Wait, there was a time once when I was a young girl where I tried to do the diary/journal thing. Of course, that swiftly changed when I came home one afternoon to find it open and sitting on my bed after my mother had discovered it and read it. When I confronted her on the violation of my privacy, I was promptly slapped across the face, thus learning that if I didn't want anyone to know what I was thinking, or didn't wish to incriminate myself it was unwise to leave any evidence. Hide away my thoughts and feelings so that the enemy would never be able to use it to their advantage.
So then, why do I sit here at six-thirty in the morning typing out my thoughts to virtual strangers? I honestly lack an outlet on my side of reality and it's growing harder and harder to swallow up these feelings as the cold weather sets in. If time is supposed to heal all wounds, what does a person do when it's the memory of time lost forever? Lost opportunity that you'll never get back no matter how much you may want it? Would give anything in the world to reclaim?
This morning I recieved a brief IM from a former friend of mine back home who claimed to not know who I was and wanted to know why I was on his list. Why do people feel the need to go through such charades? Do I really come off as that simple and stupid?
Noble was my first real friend when I think back to my childhood and the years I spent living in my hometown, a place that holds many memories and ghosts that I selfishly cling to even though most cause me pain. Strange how masochistic we humans are; The memories and emotions are like a sweet poison we know will burn and hurt, but we drink deeply all the same.
I know he'll never see these words, and if he somehow did, they likely would have no affect on him as he is an opportunist and self-preserving. Not that I can fault him terribly for being that way since in a lot of ways, I'm the same. Survival of the fittest and all. And yet, it still burns my heart to be addressed so casually.
"Who is this?" "It's the person you once knew as a friend." "Oh. Okay." Perhaps I should have been more specific with him. I'm the person who snuck food out to you when we were growing up because I knew you hadn't any at home. I'm the person who happily gave you money when I knew you needed it because although I didn't have much of it, I knew you had far less than I. I'm the girl who you lied to, promised a ticket to come back home so I could see my dying mother. Who believed in you right until there was no denying the fact you never had any intention of helping in the first place. The girl who forgave you for such a betrayl despite myself only to be betrayed again. That's who I am.
Logically, I can only point the finger at myself. And the more I point, the louder the laughter in my head gets until I feel like my brain will fly apart into a million pieces along with my heart. How I've made it this far in my life without being on some sort of medication is nothing short of a miracle though sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be easier if I just popped a pill, drank, or lit up a joint. Oh wait, that's what roleplay is, how silly of me to forget.
At least I can dictate what happens in my plots, any suffering of my character is because I chose and I can determine the outcome. Do all the things I wish I could in life. I can give my character the life I wish I had and selfishly indulge in without whining to others that I wish I had my parents still. That I had a sister whom I could tolerate being around. Everything is perfect and wonderful or the adversity that my characters face is surmounted in the end. Happily ever afters belong in stories, not real life.
Still, I try my hardest to find the proverbial silver lining in the clouds even when they cover the moon, sun and stars. I have a job where others do not. I have the admiration of several customers at work who will often times refuse to come into the store unless I'm working. Pathetic to some perhaps, but that's a huge ego stroke right there.
I have seen more of the country and had lots of adventures which I will pen down as time goes on. I'm going to struggle not to delete this as I have before. I can't keep bottling shit inside and therapy is too expensive so..here we go. At least here all I have to pay is my internet bill and hope that some dumbass doesn't write a stupid comment on it like they do in PVP. But, this is the internet and idiots abound here as they do anywhere else, a damned if you do and damned if you don't situation. ~Shrugs.~
So, here we go...Erato's journal. There's a good ending I suppose. Yep..it'll work.

 

[Erato]

"Hell May Have Officially Frozen Over.


So...my younger sister just talked to me and she's going to send me pictures of my parents. Faces I haven't seen in eight years and something she's held over my head for about that same length of time.
Not sure what to make of this sudden change of heart with her..and of course she'd spring this on me just before work. More journalling will ensue when I get home.

 

[Erato]

"Happy Christmas. (But The War Isn't Over.)


So this is Christmas...
And what have you done?
Another year over...


So the update behind the pictures my sister is supposed to be sending me? Allegedly she will be doing so at the end of this month but I have my doubts. After all, why give up such a valuable tool of manipulation? Your sharpest knife.


Christmas is a time of year that I'd rather just forget, in all honesty. I know as time goes on, the pain of loss is supposed to get easier to deal with but it doesn't. At least, not for me.
Or maybe I'm just that pathetic, y'know? I see all the families rushing off together, children holding the hands of their parents and I have to admit to feeling extremely jealous.
I'm having a hard time recalling the faces of my parents and I dread the day I wake up and I can't see them at all.
They weren't the best parents in the world, but they were still mine and that's all that matters to me. I wasn't the greatest first born either but I was still theirs..even if my mother denounced me on her death bed allegedly and that my father's parting words to me were, "You will be nothing without me."
I'd like to think that it was his way of making me angry, angry enough to challenge my family's method of doing things, to break the cycle. We're like a pack of wild dogs fighting and preying on the weaker ones in the hopes of reaching the top. I had enough of the back-biting and the politics so I left. Was going to leave behind everything familiar and strike out into the unknown. Hell, if Rhoda can toss her hat up into the air while standing in the center of New York, making it after all, I could too, right? Right? Eight years later, I'm sometimes unsure if I should throw my hat or not.
With the arrival of Christmas, I know the year is nearly over, just a handful of days left and then we will be in January; The blackest month of the year for me.
I hate the way the pale winter sun reminds me of that day when I was thirteen and my father came home from the hospital to spend Christmas with us.
Even though I was happy to see him, I knew that he wouldn't last another season with us no matter how much my heart tried to convince the rest of me otherwise.
And yet, I miss him terribly and wish that he were still around years later. Of my two parents, he was the one that I could trust the most and could understand. I could talk to him about anything and I knew it wouldn't be twisted and turned against me later. When we fought, it was simple and then over and done with.
Even my mother, the machevillian bitch that she was, I miss her as well. Like I said, they weren't the greatest parents but they were mine and I learned a lot from them, both good and bad. And..I'd give anything in the world just to see their faces one more time.
It may not seem like such a big deal to many, but I cannot put into words what it is like to stare at my reflection and wonder, "Are these eyes something my mother gave me or does my hair belong to my father? Which one do I look more like now?"
My sister looks like our mother, and seeing her face is startling. Not to mention the scant few times that we do talk on the phone, it's so odd to hear a voice that sounds a lot like mine. To hear someone speak the same way I do and know that it belongs to a person I love and hate at the same time. But maybe that's the strange karma between siblings, ne?
I still hate her for lying to me and keeping the news of our mother's failing health a secret until after our mother died. And rubbing it in my face that she managed to keep the funeral arrangements from me until months after they ceremony and how the family still thinks I'm crazy and goodness knows what.
I hate the emotional tug-of-war she likes to play and yet I'm a sucker for the game. She's all the family I have left and where I come from, in the house I was raised, you don't turn your back on family...even though I walked away without looking back eight years ago.
So we shall see if she does send them at the end of this month, it would be nice if she kept her word, but people in my family are not known for being nice or keeping their word. Still...dogs learn new tricks all the time and maybe the war will some day be over.

 

[Erato]

Pettiness by any other word is Woman



Or maybe I can't push all the blame of my petty and wrathful nature onto the fact I have a vagina and have to own up to the fact that this is who I am.
But Christ almighty there are a few people right now who have me wishing I could reach through the internet and slap the shit out of them, scream in their face even if they would prove deaf in the end. Or simply relish the sight of their tears as I verbally cut them down and drive them into insanity with my utter disdain for their existence or they stop with their bullshittery. Though at the current moment I think I'm more willing to see them squirm and grapple around blindly while they try to wade through their tears trying to reach that glimmer of hope at the end of the perpetually dark tunnel that they call Hope.
For someone who has made it second nature to manipulate and for all intents and purposes emotionally abuse a man she claims she loves, there is one girl in particular I'd love nothing more than to see cry as her world is taken from her piece by piece at a time by my hand personally. This girl awakens that green-eyed and vindicitive beast that snoozes beneath the surface of my demeanor only to awaken when the prospect of new prey lurks near by. And right now she's looking utterly delicious to the monster.
What a classic set up wherein I would fuck every man she's ever loved in front of her while they smile up at me and thank me repeatedly for giving them pleasures and delights that she could never give. I'd make friends with her family so that they could divulge all the dirty secrets of her childhood so that when I decide, I can exploit them as I see fit. Smash that citadel of Victim that she has errected around herself, drain the moat of Sorrow and plant pretty flowers in the moist soil while the army rushes forth and attacks that vulnerable center she allegedly hides but daringly flaunts all the same.
But I can do none of these things, much to my regret as I watch the object of my disdain trying to gather admirers and friends like pigeons gather to bread crumbs and the beast within cannot help but sigh at a missed opportunity of the greater banquet that could have been whilst sustaining itself on whatever morsels of her discomfort I can throw at her. Such a shame..a real shame.