Monday, November 16, 2020

i got a crush and was worried for a second I'd have to deal with feelings and people and all their implications, but then I got a vibrator and everything is better.
fuck romantic relationships. until i work on myself i know i'll be dealing with all the same problems and all the same insecurities. half my relationships have just been about loneliness or validation anyway. i don't mean to sound cynical, but i guess i'm cynical. maybe i'm just older. maybe i'm just tired of the cycle of desire where everyone gets their hopes and gets let down and has to adjust. maybe i know i'm better off focusing on myself for once.
i still love love. i still love life to the gills
i just want to make some different choices. rock with me--or don't
but we're all dancing to the same beat, baby.
xoxo
yourmama
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Sunday, November 1, 2020

grieving
i want to fuck something in half.
I want to pick up a being by my claws, throw it into a bed, and mount it. No conversation, no questions. Just muscle, sinew, sweat. gasps, whispers, cusses, cries. Bury my head in a clavicle. Bury someone else's head in me. Open my crooked mouth wide, chomp down, leave teeth marks for days.
fuck

i did it to myself.
talked to him on halloween as he was driving home. nothing interesting. all trauma. all conversation. i broke down. i sobbed. i shook. i said, "I'm sorry I'm so fucked up."
he was nice.
Said there was no need to apologize. I said something about therapy. He said something about self-improvement.

To be clear, I know I'm not fucked up for wanting sex or even wanting it with someone who will never love me the way I want them to. I'm fucked up because even in a "mutual" relationship, I got problems with letting go, with timing, with balance. I struggle with codependence. My first instinct is to melt from a solid to a liquid and then surround the person like a gas. I become the smoke they inhale and exhale. I become toxic or at least the relationship does.

I got a problem.
The practical answer is to go back to therapy. To find an Al-Anon (Codependents Anonymous) Support Group. To talk and talk and listen and listen and meditate and get better over days, weeks, months, years. The practical answer is to heal.
And I will
But in the meantime, goddamn it, I'm so fucking lonely and horny and sad and my dad is dead and my grandmother is dead and I just want to tear into a warm body and cry.


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Monday, September 21, 2020

op-eds
rom-coms are as poisonous as pornography and i will fight a baby rapidash in court to defend that statement. I realize over a long summer exploring self-loathing and obsession that neither one of these things is fun or productive and that my expectations for relationships are incredibly warped.

Also, sex and love are not the same thing. I always think I know that, but I don't. Not on a heart/soul level anyway. Is it telling of my company lately that I wrote that and automatically thought of Pokemon?

Nevertheless, I tend to fall for whoever I fuck---ESPECIALLY if the sex is good (DAMN YOU, PAVLOVE!!!). Part of it is biology, part of it is religious upbringing, part of it is... fuck, man, I'm a taurus. I fall in love five times a day. It's exhausting.

I want to go back to casual. I want to just hold hands and talk and cuddle for five hours. My mind has all these ideas of where the situation needs to go. Like, can we just stay in one place for a minute?

Has anyone else been fighting with themselves lately? Or is it just me?

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Sunday, September 20, 2020

y'all. I never knew it could feel so good to block somebody's number. I don't have the time to explain right now, but I wasted almost all of last year pining over someone who did not care about me. I thought they'd changed. They didn't. I wish them well... far away from me.

Letting go can be hard, but can be so worth it.

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Tuesday, September 1, 2020

   um
My grandma died last Monday. My mom's mother. She was 98 years old. I have been drifting between heavyness, horniness, and euphoria ever since.

Her body was on it's back. Her mouth was open, tongue out and purple at the end. Her eyes were half-closed and glazed, the blue taking over the whites of her eyes.

The last time I saw her alive, maybe half an hour before, she was laying on her side, smiling at my goddaughter, her great granddaughter. Little Livvie traipsed into the room, all smiles and hellos. She held my grandmas hand and my grandma just smiled at her. Nothing could make her smile like a baby or someone close to one.

I was sent downstairs to play with my goddaughter and her older brother. My baby sister Val joined us. Livvie and I settled in for a round of Minecraft. Val logged Owen on to the computer. Half an hour into lollygagging with Livvie, building a treehouse of spruce wood and magenta carpet, Val leans down and murmurs the words. "She's dead."
I repeated it and she told me to be quiet. The kids weren't meant to know yet.
Val watched the kids while I went to look.

My mind blanked as I saw her. I leaned down and kissed her forehead. My mother and aunt sat beside her, teary-eyed. My aunt was on the phone. The doctor was on his way to pronounce her dead. Numbers are discussed. "Did she go at 5:30? Right on the dot? Wow."

My mind stayed blank as I walked back downstairs to relieve Val. Then, I imagined calling my old fling. I imagined my ex. I imagined my ex arriving to the house and me collapsing in his arms, our bodies pressed together. Never again.

I sat back down and took up my controller. Livvie chattered away. After a while, I asked her for a hug.
"I'm sad," I said.
"Why?"
"I miss my friend. He won't talk to me."
"Why?"
"I think he's mad at me."
"Why?"
"I don't know."

But I know.

I should probably explain that my grandmother and I were not close--or were, but not in a good way. She was equal parts saint and bitch, mother and drill sergeant, caretaker and task master. She was complicated. She was a person. She was a person who helped raise me and my siblings.

Ever since I got home from the funeral and from smoking and drinking after the funeral, I've been mourning her and mourning the relationship we never had. We loved each other, but I don't know that we ever liked each other much and part of that is my fault and part of that is no one's fault. I'm just sensitive and she was just... not.
She was tired. She was old.

I hope she's happy. I hope she's laughing and living it up (I still believe in Heaven despite all these past life memories.) She took care of a lot of people in her life. 12 kids, over 20 grandkids, several great grandkids... I can't even tell you how many nieces and nephews.

There's no use trying to go back in time and fix what's passed. There's no point wracking my head over things I did or could have done had I known better, because I didn't know better and even if I did... it's passed. She's passed.

And honestly, the things she told me about myself when I was a kid (stupid, lazy brat) don't really have anything to do with me. Yes, I talked back. Yes, I didn't feel the need to clean every square inch of the house. Yes, I liked to play. But I was seven years old.

Like I said, she was tired when she moved in with my mom and me.

So I'm okay. for the most part. I've cried a few times. Sometimes all I want to do is sleep. Most times all I want to do is sleep.
I have supplemented this desire with eating food and adding basil to everything. True to form, an empty container of yakisoba sits to the left of the laptop as I type this.

I miss my mom. I miss my sisters. I miss my brothers and my father. I basically camped out at their house after everything happened. It was nice. Felt like the old days, before the fights, but better, because instead of egotistical bullshit we all just loved each other. We talked. We made food. We ate food. We drove to the beach. We cried. We held each other.
It was nice and also exhausting. I have a hard time taking care of myself properly when I'm at my mothers house. I throw away all my boundaries. I lean on people too hard and let them lean on me too hard. We all become one big, codependent tribe. Rather, I get needy.
But there's also a symbiosis to it. My mother cares for me and nurtures me. I hold her and listen to her. Not quite an even exchange of energy, but close. The closest I've come to equal throughout my life.

Sometimes I wonder if I've chased men-children so often just to prove to myself that I can be her. But I'm me. I'm still deciding what that means.

Feels as though there's a hole that's been ripped open in the veil, a swirling vortex in the night. Nothing feels secure. Nothing is secure.

Tonight, as I was walking around after class, a dog came bounding over to the gate and barked at me. She wouldn't stop. My first instinct was to back up, but instead I knelt down and smiled at her as she continued to bark. Her owner came out of her house and, grimacing, asked me to move on.

I don't know why the fuck I did that.I don't even like dogs. What the fuck was I trying to prove?

I wanted to feel something besides grief, maybe. Maybe I'm just tired of being afraid. Tired of running.

Maybe that's all sex would be for me right now as well. Running. Validation.
Nevertheless, I've been craving it. Really, not even so much sex, but everything that usually comes with it. Touching. Scents. Body heat. Someone to hold. Something to hold.

Well. Back to therapy.

Hope everyone is okay. If you read this whole thing until the end, good job! Go get yourself an ice cream sandwich.
xxxx
~Belinda Rae



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Wednesday, July 22, 2020

he was a nonbeliever. shine bright like a diamond
hey all

i hope you're well. as well as well can be in these times, anyway. i don't know who we are anymore--i guess no one does. who we're being asked to become. more flexible. more open. steadier. quieter.
better listeners

i must admit it's hard to type this without feeling a little depressed. i've projected once again and i wish i could say it's the last time i've been wrong or done wrong, but i can't promise that. it's been a while.

i don't know really know who i am anymore--if i ever was. someone told me we're all just a collection of stereotypes, but i don't believe that. it's too shallow. it's too simple for what has never felt simple. Masks, maybe. Roles, maybe. Ever-shifting, ever-changing, based on what we believe. Based on what is asked of us.
but stereotypes? beliefs? nah.

still, there's truth in every cliche otherwise it wouldn't be a cliche.

are we still beautiful like diamonds in the sky? can we be?

i wish you all well. wherever you are, whoever you, wherever you'll go, whoever you'll become. stay hydrated, y'all. it's hot out there.

i love you
~
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Monday, June 1, 2020

   i can't tall you nothin...
Thank every God for this crazy website and all the crazy kids who ever clicked through it. It makes me feel like the past 15 years were all a dream and there's still time to say what I mean, to do what I love, to grow up on my own terms instead of holding all aching bones in for fear of being vulnerable. I was so scared for so long. I hated myself for loving so deeply and didn't let myself love as often. I don't even mean romantically. I mean in general.

If there's anything, anything at all, I have learned it's to be what you are. It's easier.
To be what you are and to let who you are change sometimes because it will---on the surface, anyway.

I still ache to talk to Stephanie, but I'm so grateful Emily, Cassie, and Jenny are still reachable.

I'm a fucking mess sometimes... (The bridge to "Drugs" by EDEN blasts between my ears eternally)

A hedonist returned to apologize for hurting my feelings. He said, at the end of the phone call, "Stay in contact." I didn't believe him, so I didn't. I made a deal with myself that if all I get from him is a heartfelt apology, then I'm happy. He contacts me 3 weeks later to ask how my week's going. I say "fine." Every voice in my head says not to text him back, that his intentions aren't pure, and I agree, but I'm like "Nah, I'm over this motherfucker. He ain't getting me in my feelings this time. We can just flirt. I know he's full of shit."
But I toe the line. I don't type more than 15 words to him. I don't send him any pictures of me. Still, we get to goofing off one day and I get vulnerable. I tell him about the time Dreamy Neighbor Boy called me "creepier than his dog" in high school and how that still fucks with me to this day. He says "fuck those people" and "sometimes the best way to get over traumas is to move through them." I say I don't want to get too attached. He says that's understandable, but then he gets to saying "I missed feeling sexual tension with you along with obviously talking to you" and for some ungodly reason I tell the truth: "I missed all that too."
And The Feels wash over me.

It's all over now. We wanted different things all along and I knew that. One thing I'll say about him is he's honest about what he wants. It's weird how we can have so many people around us and 9 times out of 10 choose the ones who are the least compatible.

But another thing I've learned is we choose. No matter how we feel or what's happening around us, we choose. We always have a choice.

What else?
The world is ending
and beginning
A ball of fire and earth drinking bodies. I want to say I can't believe we live in a time where someone can be throat-stomped to death for cashing a bad check or shot for jogging in a neighborhood, but I can. Situations like it have happened too many times. This country is still the same country that cries for freedom, but demands everyone else do the dishes, clean the bathroom, build the roads...

Stay praying. Stay loving.
It's the only way.

I don't know if anyone reads this or passes through anymore, but if you do, I hope you're well and I send you the love you can only find through the intimacy of early 2000s style blogs in 2020.
Namaste <3
~Belinda Rae
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Tuesday, April 28, 2020

Codependency the Musical
I used to think I I liked gamers. Turns out I just liked you
I used to think I liked nerds. Turns out I just liked you
I used to think I liked Libras. Turns out I just liked you

I don't know who you are these days or who you're with or who you want to be tomorrow
But when you were with me you were a firecracker a warm blanket a lullaby a storybook a one way ticket home and a few more of my favorite things

And I shouldnt write and I shouldnt speak
And I don't know if you listen
And I dont know if you read
But I am bound to leap and bound to fall again
So I just had to write down the recipe for loss
Spent all of last year running from me and tripping over you
swimming upstream against the memories.
every reminder and every reflection of you in everyone else

And I want to metaphor and I want a simile and I want a parallel and I want to irony I want to write and wit my way out of this but I can't make comparisons when there are none
-------'----------------------------!-!--
I don't really want to turn this into a shrine for my ex but it is something I do not trust myself to post to Facebook about and it must be the millennial former quote-unquote emo I won't let these poems gone published they're really not that good maybe that's another reason I don't want to post on the Facebook LOL also I don't really want to get back together that would undo all the progress I meant I don't know is it progress? I go back and forth about that all the time. Whether I really am better off about him
But at the end of the day I realize half the people I have dated in the past including him are not good for me in the long run. I love them all and I wish them all well I am definitely recognized codependent Tendencies Within Myself and that's no way to love or live

Hope everybody is well
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Wednesday, April 22, 2020

south
You pack a bag and drive south
your mother does not kick you out. Does not stuff everything you own into garbage bags while you're at work, toss it at you on your way home, and scream, her index finger pointing away from the house, that you are no longer welcome. She doesn't threaten. She doesn't goad. She just says with a wrinkled face, "We don't do that here. I hope you understand."

You hear her talking to Ms. Mary or Ms. Beth or Ms. Jolene later about camps, about injections, about electroshock therapy to help. You tell yourself it's a bad dream in order to get to sleep. What sleep you do manage to get is so shallow and troubled it's almost like not sleeping at all.

You pack a bag and drive south.
You try to talk to your mom that morning, try to tell her you no longer feel welcome in her home anyway. She says, "No, you're welcome here. Your TENDENCIES aren't."
Like you didn't feel it in your veins the first time you saw a girl smile at you and blush, like you didn't feel something clank against your brain the second the priest snarled about gay marriage in church, like men exist for you as anything but a distant other. Like you know how to be any other way.

You pack a bag and drive south. She's downstairs cooking dinner, talking to your sisters.

You've had a black of ice melting in your stomach all day, the taste of something sharp, dry, and metallic, in the back of your throat.

You pack a bag and drive to your friends house in Pennsylvania. At midnight, she texts your phone asking where you went.
You said you needed space. She doesn't text back.

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Wednesday, April 8, 2020

   pass out like a transition
Can't i just sleep forever?
Sometimes it feels like i might as well be dreaming.

Some people only love you like a complex
Some people only touch you like a scar
Some people only know how to speak in whispers

Some days I only know how to sing or scream
With nothing lower or in between
I walk outside and breathe just to remember I still can
The dirt still smells like him
The sunlight still smells like cobwebs
Childhood homes, childhood beds
Storage units for ghosts I wish I didn’t know

And I’m tired of writing letters to hooded houses I don’t live anymore
And tracing paths to all the Edens I’ve fallen from
And eating apples to chase away all the serpents I wish I wasn’t
I feel the ground under my feet to keep from falling
I feel the God in my chest to keep from running

And I stay
And I go
And I
run


I still wish I was a better person--or at least a wiser one but nothing worth having ever comes automatically. You can't adopt yourself better, can't marry yourself better, can't date yourself better. i wasn't lonely until someone told me i should be. don't want to be 17 anymore.
~rae
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