Oh wow. Where have I been? This semester has definitely been stressful. Trying to keep all my relationships in tact while not tanking my gpa in the process. So much of me just wants to say "Fuck it" and wait it out for another semester. Doesn't seem so bad. But so much planning and preparation had gone into a winter graduation. My mother is proud of me which I admit is pretty nice for once.
But when I'm pretty stressed, out of ice cream, liquor (note to self: remedy soon), and not enough time to watch Man in the Iron Mask, I turn to my blog. Because at least here, I know I can vent without fear of retribution or judgement.
So... here goes..
I hate who I am sometimes. I saying "This is what I want." Makes me feel like a bitch. Like, who am I to demand things from the universe? What have put into it? And everything I have put into it wasn't for my own benefit... Was it?
This guy at work is constantly doing nice things: taking shifts, staying late, volunteering his time to the rec, etc. He says he's "building up good karma" and one day, he plans to "cash out." I don't know if I agree with that thinking. But I do think every once in a while I should be able to say what I want and not feel bad about it.
But I do.
And I feel horrible about it. I want you to do things like we discussed, like we planned for. Us. Together. But at what cost? And am I willing to pay it to get what I want?
.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.
31.10.11
3.9.11
Kitten - Pt. 3
There was a time, she remembered, when her faith wavered. A short, fleeting moment when she forgot all that they had built together in two years. A time when she questioned and doubted herself and him. She doubted their relationship. In that dark, awful time she called for him, beckoning for him to come to her.
And he did.
And just like that, she had quelled the fires of desire which lustfully licked at her insides and burned with cooling passion for another.
But now those fires were rekindled...
And he would not--could not come to her.
----
She sat on her bed with her legs folded under her. There were was a textbook opened near her, but she cradled her cell phone in her hands.
I would do anything to make you happy, kitten. You know that. he had written.
She studied the message as if somehow, her stare would change the words, rearrange the letters in a less troubling fashion. They did not change. The words glared back at her, demanding a response. She could picture him, waiting to see her reply as her name lit up his phone and the thought of her face lit up his heart.
I know, she wrote back. She tapped the send button before she could type anything else. She fell back onto her bed pleasantly thinking of all the things that would make her happy. All the things she desired. All the things he could give her. The trips, the gifts, the dinners... All accumulated in her mind while she waited for his next text.
Just then her phone began buzzing incessantly. She looked at the lighted screen in surprise. “Hello..?”
“Hey, sweetie,” she heard from the other end. He was smiling. She knew he was smiling; he had to be. His voice was far too cheery for him not to be. Then again, he always sounded this way when talking to her, she noted. Unless she had waken him or lost track of his schedule and called while he was working, he was generally happy to talk with her.
“Hi, honey. What’s up?” she said, perhaps a bit too apprehensively, she thought. But it was too late to take it back.
He didn’t seem to notice. “Nothing much. Going to find foods now. What about you?”
She relaxed some on her bed, stacking pillows behind her head and all but kicking the textbook to the far corner. She was done studying for the night. “Oh, I’m just reading some stuff for class tomorrow.” She asked him about his day though she knew the response before he gave it: Eh, fine.
Her phone buzzed singularly. “Oh, hold on for a second,” she said quickly.
What are you doing?
Nothing, she tapped back.
With expertise, she switched the screen back to her call. “Okay.”
He said nothing, but she could hear the beep of the cashier’s scanner in the background. He mumbled a quick thank you to the cashier and then the rattling of his plastic bag. “Sorry, I was checking out.”
“So what--,” her phone began buzzing. Once, twice, and again. “Uhm.. Hold again, honey.”
She switched to the other line. He was upset and tired. He didn’t have to say a word for her to know. With one exhausted breath, she knew exactly why he had called. She sat up in bed, ready to help ease his mind if only for a few moments. “Hey,” was all she said.
“Kitten...” he said heavily, as if the agony of his thoughts were too much to bear. “I can’t sleep. And I have a headache.”
“Have you taken anything?”
There was a pause.
“Maybe you should, boy.”
“Eh, I know.”
Though it pained her to do so, she asked him to hold the line and switched over. “Honey?”
He was there, smiling again. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Can I call you back later?”
“Yeah, sure, I’m just about to eat anyways. Wanna just call me before you go to sleep?”
She smiled, thinking of his voice being the last one she would hear before falling asleep. How she had been spoiled to that treatment years before their relationship began. How she wished he were there to whisper into her ear before bed and kiss her forehead, wrap her up in his arms and hold her until she fell asleep. “Okay,” she said, moving the phone away from her ear to switch the line back over.
“I love you.”
She stopped short. For some reason that resonated with her as she realized what she was about to do, trade one for the other. More over, how easy it would be for her. She hadn’t given it a second thought. Until now. She exhaled, “I love you too, honey.”
.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.
And he did.
And just like that, she had quelled the fires of desire which lustfully licked at her insides and burned with cooling passion for another.
But now those fires were rekindled...
And he would not--could not come to her.
----
She sat on her bed with her legs folded under her. There were was a textbook opened near her, but she cradled her cell phone in her hands.
I would do anything to make you happy, kitten. You know that. he had written.
She studied the message as if somehow, her stare would change the words, rearrange the letters in a less troubling fashion. They did not change. The words glared back at her, demanding a response. She could picture him, waiting to see her reply as her name lit up his phone and the thought of her face lit up his heart.
I know, she wrote back. She tapped the send button before she could type anything else. She fell back onto her bed pleasantly thinking of all the things that would make her happy. All the things she desired. All the things he could give her. The trips, the gifts, the dinners... All accumulated in her mind while she waited for his next text.
Just then her phone began buzzing incessantly. She looked at the lighted screen in surprise. “Hello..?”
“Hey, sweetie,” she heard from the other end. He was smiling. She knew he was smiling; he had to be. His voice was far too cheery for him not to be. Then again, he always sounded this way when talking to her, she noted. Unless she had waken him or lost track of his schedule and called while he was working, he was generally happy to talk with her.
“Hi, honey. What’s up?” she said, perhaps a bit too apprehensively, she thought. But it was too late to take it back.
He didn’t seem to notice. “Nothing much. Going to find foods now. What about you?”
She relaxed some on her bed, stacking pillows behind her head and all but kicking the textbook to the far corner. She was done studying for the night. “Oh, I’m just reading some stuff for class tomorrow.” She asked him about his day though she knew the response before he gave it: Eh, fine.
Her phone buzzed singularly. “Oh, hold on for a second,” she said quickly.
What are you doing?
Nothing, she tapped back.
With expertise, she switched the screen back to her call. “Okay.”
He said nothing, but she could hear the beep of the cashier’s scanner in the background. He mumbled a quick thank you to the cashier and then the rattling of his plastic bag. “Sorry, I was checking out.”
“So what--,” her phone began buzzing. Once, twice, and again. “Uhm.. Hold again, honey.”
She switched to the other line. He was upset and tired. He didn’t have to say a word for her to know. With one exhausted breath, she knew exactly why he had called. She sat up in bed, ready to help ease his mind if only for a few moments. “Hey,” was all she said.
“Kitten...” he said heavily, as if the agony of his thoughts were too much to bear. “I can’t sleep. And I have a headache.”
“Have you taken anything?”
There was a pause.
“Maybe you should, boy.”
“Eh, I know.”
Though it pained her to do so, she asked him to hold the line and switched over. “Honey?”
He was there, smiling again. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Can I call you back later?”
“Yeah, sure, I’m just about to eat anyways. Wanna just call me before you go to sleep?”
She smiled, thinking of his voice being the last one she would hear before falling asleep. How she had been spoiled to that treatment years before their relationship began. How she wished he were there to whisper into her ear before bed and kiss her forehead, wrap her up in his arms and hold her until she fell asleep. “Okay,” she said, moving the phone away from her ear to switch the line back over.
“I love you.”
She stopped short. For some reason that resonated with her as she realized what she was about to do, trade one for the other. More over, how easy it would be for her. She hadn’t given it a second thought. Until now. She exhaled, “I love you too, honey.”
.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.
1.8.11
Edge of Grace
So today my former creative writing teacher, Christa Allan, released her second novel, Edge of Grace. On the heels of her debut novel, Walking on Broken Glass, this one explores another dark corner torn from Christa's own personal experiences with the blinding light of faith.
On top of my excitement for Christa, the release of this work forces me to examine my own goals and progress. Or lack thereof.
I think part of the reason I'm so happy for Christa is because she is living proof that it can happen: You can be published. Dreams can come true. However, the flipside of that coin is the fact that I haven't done it yet. Not even close. But I know I can do it.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel myself on the "edge of grace", so to speak and I'm just waiting for a push into the murky waters of authorhood. I don't know what form this push will come in (life experience, tragedy, brush with death, happiness), but I'm eager to meet it.
.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.
On top of my excitement for Christa, the release of this work forces me to examine my own goals and progress. Or lack thereof.
I think part of the reason I'm so happy for Christa is because she is living proof that it can happen: You can be published. Dreams can come true. However, the flipside of that coin is the fact that I haven't done it yet. Not even close. But I know I can do it.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel myself on the "edge of grace", so to speak and I'm just waiting for a push into the murky waters of authorhood. I don't know what form this push will come in (life experience, tragedy, brush with death, happiness), but I'm eager to meet it.
.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)