Salvation

“Honestly God, I didn’t mean it!” Katarina raised her eyes to the heavens, shaking her head. Blonde strands came free from where she’d tucked them behind her ears, flowing over her bared shoulders.

She emptied the bottle into her hand, and stared at the dozens of tiny white pills as she reached blindly for the bottle of cheap whiskey. Her fingers connecting with the uncapped bottle, she brought it to her lips, her face scrunching as the cool drink burned down her throat.

Oh how those tiny little white specks in her hand looked so good. How many times had she been here before – sitting in a corner, no tears to be found, clutching something that she knew could put an end to the pain. She couldn’t remember a time when some form of abuse wasn’t the main theme of any particular chapter in her life. As a baby, she was neglected while her parents got drunk. As a young child, she was raped by her daycare worker. As an older child, she was introduced to physical abuse so horrifying it took her years to talk about it. And then she got married. She thought that was her escape. She was wrong.

She shifted her position on the floor, wincing in pain. Her backside felt as though it were on fire. She shook her head, dumping all but one of the pills back into the pill bottle. She placed the kept one on her tongue, and with a deep breath, swallowed it down with a long sip of amber liquid. Had she known life was going to go back to how it once was – a way she had thought was gone for good – she would have taken the pills or whiskey before he came home.

And all because she went to church. She was violated and bruised because she went to church. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say it was because she smiled at someone at church. She wasn’t quite certain. He didn’t exactly take the time to tell her much more than “you stupid slut,” and “I’ll make sure no man or god wants you, not that any do anyway.”

She was used to his words, but lately they had gotten much worse. Nothing she did or said was right. Nothing she felt was right. At one point she had, in error, told God she’d rather be physically assaulted than deal with this emotional and verbal abuse anymore. As she shifted again, and tucked the strand of loose hair back behind her ear, her hand accidentally brushing against a fresh bruise on her jaw, she realized she hadn’t meant that prayer.

She took another long swig of whiskey.

She wished she knew someone who could help her, who could help her find courage. She had someone once. Of course, she could never have told him about what had just happened to her. It wasn’t something you discussed with anyone. And even if she had the strength to tell him, he had already abandoned her anyway.

She opened the pill bottle again, slipping another white pill out, and swallowing it down with a swig of whiskey.

Why did the good ones always abandon her? She felt a tear start to escape her eye, and quickly brushed it away. Of course, there had only been maybe two or three good ones. She reminded herself that this time it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t technically even his fault. His wife got a new job in a new town, and he had no choice – he had to go with her. She felt a twinge of envy as she thought about this – a man who let his wife make the decisions… a man who loved his wife so much, he didn’t care about his own desires. He only cared that she be happy. Oh how Katarina wished she had found a man like that. How she wished she had found this man before his wife had, or before she’d found her husband.

A noise pulled her from her thoughts, a glass shattering on the wall just above her head and an onslaught of cussing pulled her head up. She watched as he stormed out the door, still cursing her. She watched as drops of blood dripped onto the floor, a shard of glass having sliced her arm. She watched as what little hope was left slid out of sight. She picked up the bottle of pills again. She opened them. And she didn’t allow herself to think another thought as she finished off the whiskey bottle and lay down to sleep.

Meaningless Ramblings?

Several years ago, I began a journal - the journal of the Devil's Child. Devil's Child was one of my online names, and one whom had a very particular personality. While she has continued to exist, her voice was replaced, and I began writing my Meaningless Ramblings of a Madwoman. These ramblings consisted of several different voices, but the madwoman was the most common. Then these ramblings were replaced with the Darkside of the Rose babblings - which are rather mundane in my opinion when compared to the Devil's Child and the Madwoman.

Anyway, when you place the best of these writings together, they make up what I consider to be a rather interesting philosophy/psychology. For this reason, I have decided to put together the best of these writings into a book. I am not foolish enough to believe it will actually sell - and I may not even actually sell it. But, I am going to work on putting it together, editing it, giving it some rhyme or reason.

This said... I shall now post just a taste of the writings of the Devil's Child... and a nibble of the writings of the Madwoman...

Excerpt from "Hunger" (Devil's Child writing): 

This need grows stronger every day. I feel if I must live with it another moment I will wither away, back to the fire from which I was born. To understand why I live in this endless torment you must be me. You must walk behind the dark one. You must surrender your soul to the beast. I do not typically regret the decisions I have made, except for now. I am hungry. I need him. Lust is too mild of a word to describe the feeling coursing through my body; through my blackened soul. When I first tasted him, I became one with him. I need him more than I need food or water. I need him in every way and every form. I need to taste him; I need to feel his blood pulsating around me, and in me. I have always been in control of my victims. I have always pulled away before the need for only one came to be. But I have erred and now I die in this hell I have allowed myself to be drawn into.

I never imagined hell could be so cold. Or so lonely. Although I am still toying with my new prey, it is a game void of joy. My mind is still fixated on someone from the past--someone who cannot be of the human race. Men are so simple minded, so easy to play, so effortless a prey. But not him. Not the ‘man’ whom my body and soul craves. Not the ‘man’ whom, dare I say, my heart needs. I fear he has played me. He has beaten me at my own game. My tears stain my cheeks with the blood I miss.

The Mind (Madwoman writing):

Walking through the halls of my mind...such a tempting place this is, the rooms all decorated in different styles and colors, ghosts haunting every corner, every shadow, candle light burning brighter in certain areas while others remain hidden in darkness. Care to walk with me? To get a grand tour of this castle in my head? Then close yours eyes and walk with me. But beware. Once you are inside, you may never leave, unless I choose to throw you out. This is my home, and the home of the voices that keep me from being lonely - from going insane.

Such a complex place of twists and turns and bends, each leading to somewhere and yet nowhere at the same time - each thought edged in darkness even if in the light. If you listen you can hear the voices, hear them speaking to me. Some give words of encouragement, some whisper of lust and fantasy, some whisper of the dark place that is off limits to all but me. But tonight, just this once, let me take you to that dark place. Let me show you where I live and love - the place my passion, both of hatred and desire, builds and grows and dies and is reborn. This place, with cold stone walls and chains upon the walls, this is my room, my life, my dreams and fears and everything combined.

Close your eyes and reach out your hands, can you feel it, the cold steel locking around your wrists, raising your arms above your head? Can you feel the cold stone pressing against you? Hear the whispers in your ear. One voice making your blood curdle, the next making it sing. The same actions, the same words, wrapped up in the complex notion of two worlds. One makes you scream in fear, one makes you scream in pleasure. Things that should be wrong feel so right at times, cause an ache in your gut, a hardness that nothing can cure.

This place is heaven and hell combined into one wondrous world that only the chosen ones are now allowed to enter. This is the place of dark fantasies that you have only imagined. This is the place where I sacrifice my every belief and become what is desired, what will ease the ache if only a little. This is where I draw you in and hold you and use you until you can no longer satisfy my. This is where I taste you and drink from you, and allow you the same privileges from me. And once here, this is where you shall remain, even once I've released you. In your own mind you'll find yourself visiting the memories until the day you die.

Little Green Dot

You sit there, nervously watching that little green dot. It's there. Will it do anything? Will it say anything? Do you want it to? Well of course you don't. You hate that little green dot. Or love it. You're not quite certain. Perhaps it's a little of both. More one than the other some days, but all days, you know which truly wins. You hide. And check again. It's still there, mocking you, teasing, waiting to see if you'll do anything. Waiting to see if you'll show the lack of strength and courage you truly have. You're too scared to blink - one blink and it might disappear. You're too scared to speak to it - one wrong word, or perhaps any word at all, will cause it to disappear.

This silly little green dot. This sweet, special, irritating green dot. Such a brat. You've told your hopes and dreams to this dot. You've told your fears. This little green dot has seen your tears and your laughter; has heard the worst of you, seen the best of you, been given the most of you, and destroyed the whole of you. And now here it is winking at you.

You pray it doesn't disappear. You hope it does disappear. You fear its presence and the inevitable lack of presence. You long to hear its words, to feel its touch, to know it's there. But it doesn't say a word. It doesn't even realize you exist anymore. This unfeeling little green dot lingers without a worry, unknowing of your fear and need and desire and pain.

Sex on the Brain

My morning seems to be filled with little mentions and quotes on sex (sadly, just mentions and quotes). So, this has me thinking on the subject. And, my thoughts are bouncing every which way (just as the context in which sex has been seen and heard this morning). 

"You can't ruin a friendship with sex. That's like trying to ruin ice cream with chocolate sprinkles." (Raj; The Big Bang Theory)

How many of us have turned someone down because "I don't want to ruin our friendship"? I've done it. And I've heard the classic response of "yeah, it's much better to sleep with an enemy" which is always delivered with a good amount of sarcasm.

I have two thoughts on this overused "I don't want to ruin our friendship" comment. First - sometimes it is indeed said because well, quite frankly, there is just no physical attraction. And second - sometimes it is said because we really don't want to ruin a friendship. If the relationship fails (the one created when sex is introduced), then quite often the friendship dies as well. If I love someone dearly as a friend, relying on that friendship, enjoying it... why would I want to risk the possibility of ruining it? Of course, in thinking this way, we've already come to the conclusion that the relationship is going to fail.

Moving on...

I was reading one of those stupid celebrity magazines this morning, and they were talking about how some star was out at a resort. This isn't a direct quote (getting a direct quote would require me getting off my ass, and finding the magazine/article again), but essentially, they were talking about how instead of drinking, this star was engaging in a much healthier means of dealing with her stress - she was having sex with multiple men half her age....

.....

Uh...

Ok, granted, drinking to excess is not healthy. Drinking in any capacity may not be healthy. And using it as a means of escaping stress/life is definitely not good. But sex?

Using sex to escape your problems is something that is done quite often, and can lead to sex addiction. Granted, it doesn't hold some of the same dangers (i.e. you can screw someone's brains out, then get behind the wheel without too much concern of an accident), but it can still be dangerous (i.e. never have sex while driving). And, having multiple partners increases the dangers posed by sex.

I find it rather disconcerting that we're so accepting of sex. We brush it off as if it's just some casual activity. Having multiple partners, making out with several guys, quickies at parties, extramarital affairs, sex without love - these are all common occurrences within our society, and treated with as much care and concern as going shopping, or walking the dog, or having a cup of coffee.

Maybe I'm old fashioned (or, just old), but sex is something that should be given after love. It shouldn't be a means to attract someone, or keep someone. It shouldn't be used as a means of overcoming boredom or low self-esteem. It shouldn't be used as pain relief or self injury.

With how nonchalant people are towards sex, I'm surprised anyone gets hit with the "you're too good a friend" line anymore. But those who do - you're probably the lucky ones.

More Sketches

I've always been absolutely horrible at drawing people, so I've been trying to put in a little time tonight working on that. So, the first two are drawings of women (I'll draw a male next time). They aren't too good... but they're better than I usually do. One is done by looking at a photo of me... my husband says my drawing looks like a zombie though :(  But, that's a better response than he usually gives.

The last one is just something I drew for the heck of it... because I like hugs from some people...

 And now, as it's 2am almost, I shall attempt to fall asleep. Good night sweet world.

Sketches!

I'm beginning to run low on canvases (one blank one, and one that needs to be painted over)... so I decided to try my hand at drawing again. I've done this before... in fact, I have several drawings tucked away somewhere. I'll have to dig them out and post some on here some day. BUT for now... I thought I'd share the ones I sketched today. Some are good... some, yeah, not so good... one I refuse to even post because it's so completely horrible.

Anyway, without any further ado, my sketches......

One of my favorites... I impress myself sometimes :)

Ok, the woman is really really bad... but I like the eye and lips on the right... (note, this was just a few doodles on one sheet of paper)

Another I impressed myself with... needs some work, but didn't turn out half bad.

Just some more rambling...

Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the halls of my mind.... (I'm really sorry you got stuck in here... but don't worry... it isn't that frightening... usually... sometimes... maybe....)

Anyway, a few days ago I messed up my back (again) and therefore am essentially confined to my bed/heating pad at the moment (which sucks), and so I have very little to do other than write, or waste my brain cells watching television, or paint. Well, I already painted and watched tv (NCIS... 3 or 4 episodes). And, I did do a little writing, but felt like doing more. Therefore... Hello! :)

First... my painting!

It's a little blurry cuz of my camera, but oh well. You get the general idea of what it looks like.

And, for those wonderfully fun friends of mine that enjoy reading a short story... I posted part two of "Welcome Home" over at the garden. Make sure you read the first part first (although, it's a bit slow):
Part 1
Part 2

Those beautiful short stories not your cup of tea? Perhaps you'd prefer a rather short sermon. Head on over the Sermons from a Psycho to read my latest:
Water (pt 2) and Affirmation

That sermon should have been much longer, but after having been interrupted 3 or 4 times while writing it, I finally completely lost my thought process. But, it does link to a prior sermon I had written regarding water which, in my opinion, wasn't completely awful.

Speaking of being interrupted though... why do people completely ignore and avoid me... right until I start to write? It really is quite annoying. I watched 3 episodes of NCIS without a single person speaking to me (other than myself... but I'm allowed). But holy heckles in a handsaw, I start writing and "mom?"... "Brandi?"..."Yo biatch!?". I'm going to seriously start putting ghost chili sauce in people's beverages.

And now, Mr. Obsessed is messing with fish again. I hate fish. Although, my 12 baby mollies are getting huge! AND... I have 4 itty bitty baby Mickey Mouse Platy's. Well, 4 in a separate tank, and 2 that we left in with the mama (kinda hoping mama eats them like she did the other 3 or 4 or more).

But anyway, I'm still getting interrupted (why oh why oh why must we move baby fish into a different 1 gallon tank???) and my thought process has run away, and therefore I shall stop rambling for now.