Whispers

It’s just a whisper. 

A small sound

Not a discernable word.

Accompanied by nervous glances

And unsure smiles.

Wasn’t supposed to be anything at all.

Some need created this proximity.

Some function joining companions,

For practical purposes.

A previously unknown tempest

Was lurking in the atmosphere.

It was just a whisper.

The lightest of touch.

Fingers ghosting over bare skin,

An arm.

A shoulder.

Fingers slipping through hair,

Just so; barely even there.

Just a casual touch.

Nothing really,

It’s nothing at all.

It’s just a touch, or three.

Born of a mundane task.

Something not relevant

In any other way.

There is a squall on the horizon.

It was just a whisper,

A tactile murmur.

An unnecessary connection

Becoming a requirement.

Time ticks by,

Distressingly slowly. 

The air thickens with each tap

Of the second hand.

An insistent but still unclear thought

Niggling at,

Tormenting, their brains.

An electric charge in the ozone.

Extremities seem unclear of

Boundaries.

Gently, delicately, interfering with

Each other.

Small smiles and glances  

Speaking silent apologies after

Each contact.

A blush appears upon pale skin,

Occasionally at first.

Then constant.

On each of them.

So pretty, the palest of pinks

“If I could just touch that…”

It was just a whisper,

In one of their minds.

In both of their minds.

A storm surge threatens.

Excruciatingly slowly,

An unnamed urgency

Is making its presence known.

Breaths come just a little

More quickly.

Words remain unspoken.

Yet clearly stated,

Agonizing truths are exchanged,

In just a look.

Neither can turn away now.

A smoldering gaze

Held in resounding silence,

For some immeasurable amount of time.

Like opposing forces tired of fighting

The pieces are drawn together slowly,

A beautifully, painfully reluctant migration.

Averse to the inevitable,

But unable to prevent it.

Breath mingling together.

First cool, then hot.

First moderate and deep,

Now rapid and shallow.

Souls seeking a connection

But warring against it.

It was just a whisper,

Now a caterwauling symphony

Between these two.

Desperate to be heard.

But still terrified of the consequences

Of such a powerful thing.

Intense silence broken only by

Short, soft breaths.

Restraint fades into the enveloping darkness.

Lips crash together like waves

To the shore.

With just a whisper

They agree to drown together.

   

Omnivores Are Not Bad Guys

My musings on not being vegan and still being pissed about the death of Cecil:
Yes, deplorable factory farming methods that exist in the US and throughout the world disgust me.
The more educated I become the more armed I am to make choices about where my food comes from.
I am becoming increasingly educated about how to reduce my consumption of meat in general.
I owe my increasing awareness on this particular topic to my fabulous vegan friends who share their information and meatless recipes with me.
I am growing and making choices all the time. 
More choices than I ever used to make. 
Every change I make, no matter how small, is a positive one for our planet and all the creatures living here with me.

But I still eat meat.

And that doesn't make me a bad person.

It makes me an omnivore.

It also doesn't make me a hypocrite, because I eat meat, to say that I am appalled that someone would kill a majestic animal solely for the purpose of having a trophy.
No one needs an animal head on their mantle.
And I can say that with a clear conscience regardless of what I am having for lunch.

I Know Why the Con Attendee Gets PCD

Well its official I have it.  PCD - Post Con Depression. 
What is that you ask ?
Well, its that feeling you get after attending a fan convention.  That sad, teary eyed feeling that starts somewhere around the middle of the final day of the convention and lasts for about a week or so. 
About now people who are not involved in the 'lifestyle' are rolling their eyes and going: "Wait, hold up, you cry after one of those things?  I thought you were going to make yourself HAPPY!!!"
Of course I go to make myself happy, but what makes me happy isn't all wrapped up in the celebrities I may meet.
People who don't partake don't understand why we go to fan conventions like Creation Con or Eyecon or the holy grail - Comic Con.  Generally, the casual observer thinks we go to 'ooooo' and 'aaahhhh' over the attractive cast of our favorite television show or movie.  Certainly, that does happen.  Its fun to listen to the actors answer fan questions or show off their other talents besides acting.  Its fun to have a photo with an actor you admire or to get an autograph.  The actors that attend these things are all about making sure their fans are as happy as possible.  They take it all in stride as young girls burst into tears at the sight of their favorite, in the case of 'my' Con of choice, vampire, wolf or witch.  And they maintain their cool as some not so young women paw at them.  Or as they, for goodness sake, lick them, yeah you read that right.


Detour...
Can I just say 'Eeeww! that's a Violation with a capital V!  Do you want to be licked by a random stranger?  No, you don't; so don't do that to an actor.  The rest of us would like the actors to continue to attend these things and give us little hugs in our photo ops - which they won't keep doing if they feel compelled to get a shot of penicillin after each Con. Please and thank you. Rant over.
Back to our regularly scheduled musings...


Having those photo ops and autograph sessions is fun.  Even for a grown up like me.  It gives me a moment to be a kid and shake the hand of the person who brings my favorite characters to life once a week.  I love my vampires - each and every one of them.  I love them in the books and I love them on the TV show.  I have my favorite - his name begins with a 'D' and ends with an 'amon'. 
Yup, I definitely get my inner kid on at these things and I have fun doing the FAN thing. 
But if you think I save up my money for a year or tell my parents that yes, I want Walker Stalker tickets for my 50th birthday simply because I need to get my Fan Girl on, you really don't know anything about me or Con's and the people who attend them.


Really, we go to these things to see each other, as much if not more than to see the men and women who bring the characters we love to life.  We are people who share a love of a story told on TV.  We are also people who don't even watch the show that inspires the event, but we go to the Con because we support a charitable endeavor of an actor from the show.  Either way we are going to be with people who share the same passions as we do.  Like minded people.


As I was driving home yesterday and PCD started to sink in I was wondering, well why do we get PCD?  So I thought on what I said above about why we go to these things.  I got to the point where I realized that we were all like minded and I continued to think about that for a few miles.  What is it about us that is like minded because an outsider wouldn't think it was true if they looked at us. 
I realized that in my case I am surrounding myself with people who are incredibly kind and supportive.  People who accept others as is.  Flaws and all.  We share rooms and meals for three days.  We dance and sing together.  We laugh.  We catch up.  But as I said, if you lined us all up next to each other and you were an outsider you would NEVER believe we would all be friends.   On the surface we all appear to be so different.  There are different age ranges, different socio economic backgrounds.  Different religions. Different races.  Oh and don't get me started on hair colors, hair styles and body art - the variety of all of that would blow your mind!   There is some EPIC body art to be found at Cons.


So what makes us 'the same' besides the TV show aspect?  Well there is an abundance of kindness and mutual respect for each other.  Even if someone might bug someone else with some little quirk or another its a minor blip, not a big deal, because we all seem to have the same underlying belief that our differences are what make us awesome.  Even if we really don't gel with someone completely, we are still kind to them.  We are family.  And we love each other.  We really do. 


And the next thing I realized is that we show that love in the form of touch, specifically hugs. 
We hug.  We all hug.
I hug EVERYONE I KNOW ALL THE TIME at these things.    Its a huge lovey hug fest.  The minute I walked in the doors and set my stuff down I was hugged by someone I hadn't seen since October.  And before I left I hugged people goodbye.  And then I realized who I hadn't seen before I left - who I hadn't given that one last hug to.  And I started to cry. 
That was when I knew why I got PCD - because I was going to miss the hugs.  I was going to miss the expression of our caring for each other.  And that hurts so damn bad.  For up to a week.  And this time I was really messed up because I missed giving that one last hug to some of my friends.  Its really not advisable to do 85 mph on 287 while crying so I had to get it together as I continued my drive home. 
Then I heard a ding from my phone.  When I stopped at a traffic light I saw that it was one of my dear friends who I missed giving that one last hug to - she didn't realize I had even left for home and was asking if I had eaten dinner yet.  I cried some more.  Then I told her how sorry I was that I missed her and how sad I was that I was so stupid to have missed her. 


She said  "No worries, we will see each other again' and she sent me a little heart emoji. 


Basically, she hugged me. 


Peace out people.  'Get in the pit and love someone'

For The Benefit of Those I Love

Wound tightly
Into myself.
A small, hard ball
Trying to be impenetrable.
Put up the wall,
No one wants to see.
Make sure to be easy.
Successful on most days,
By default.
Everyone sees what they
Believe.
Lofty thoughts of the real me.
Convinced they see through
Whatever shroud is there
Certain its made from a diaphanous gauze.
Thinking they know
The conscious thing inside.
They are blind to the true opacity,
Of the depth of the barrier,
So carefully constructed.
There is a fearsome darkness
On the other side.
A formidable storm of emotions,
Battled each waking moment.
Again and again I find
I am temporarily paralyzed
By a terror without name.
Drawing from some place inside
I move on.
I must.
Presenting the cheerful mask.
Often its an illusory veil.
Just a facade.
For your well being.

The Last Rung

I'm sorry
You think it's words
Manipulation
Letters strung together
No meaning
Manipulation
It's not
But I can't be the one
To explain
No feeling, EVERY feeling
It's everything
I can't express
I'm sorry
I'm not what I used to be
Every excuse
To stay away from me
You find each one
Every time
I'm sorry
I don't know
When I failed
I'm always at the bottom
I can't grasp the ladder
Anymore

Let Me Go

What I heard
Felt like a blow
A slap to my soul
Anger flared,
I drew a breath
I walked away,
Just a little bit
If I were to stay
Nothing good
Could come of it
I am on a path
It is my own
You can come
You can go
You can share
The journey
Come, SEE with me
Or you can stay
Right there alone
But I have to walk
I have to grow
It is inadvisable
To make me stay
Stagnant.

The Marks of Achievement

Didn't ask for this.
To be placed on this path,
Treacherous and steep.
Barely any purchase at all,
At times.
Dark days when the end seemed
Like the legitimate goal.
Eclipsing rationality with
A promise of peace.
Everywhere to turn but yet
So alone.
Indignity piled upon insult.
A seemingly endless stream
Of torments.
Stared down,
Dismantled
Every single one.
Moment by moment,
Small successes gained,
With an inner tenacity previously
unknown.
Fearsome determination flows
Within this heart.
Finally, victory attained.
With Grace and gratitude.
There are scars.
Of Body and Soul.
From this odyssey.  
Beautiful reminders of your strength.

The Cessation of Being

I am objectionable

As determined by the male of the species

I was not consulted

This decision was made for me.

I protest!

To no avail.

My worth as a woman is null

Once solid, now malleable,

Curves reside where lines are preferred.

Lines where smooth velvet is required

Judgment has been passed,

The verdict is in

Once an oasis is now deemed a desert

I've reached that age

My desire discounted,

And greeted with enmity

To ask is taboo

'What is wrong with you?'

The cruelest of rejections,

To imply a fault in human nature.

I am not to be touched

Except...

Just now and again.

A peck to my lips. 

The slightest brush to my shoulder.

And just once,

An attempt to reach the incandescence 

Of a previous lifetime,

Failed.

Blame placed.

My condition is grave.

There isn't much time left.

 

Thoughts

Thoughts

I think I'm dying

My mind is barren

I think I'm dying

Yet full to bursting.

I think I'm dying

Confusion churns there.

I think I'm dying

An angry ocean,

I think I'm dying

Incomplete thoughts rage,

I think I'm dying

Crashing down, all around.

I think I'm dying

I never cease to hear

I think I'm dying

A constant cacophony,

I think I'm dying

An ever present echo

I think I'm dying

Of distrust in myself.

I think I'm dying

Immobilized by fear

I think I'm dying

Soul drained by despair

I think I'm dying

I am not enough, ever.

I think I'm dying

What have I done?

I think I'm dying

Nothing.

I think I'm dying

I discount everything,

I think I'm dying
All that comes from me.

I think I'm dying

I cannot believe in me

I think I'm dying

I don't see a way out

I think I'm dying

Why can't I consider me?

I think I'm dying

I taste something 

I think I'm dying

Its bitter, metallic

I think I'm dying

Regret

I think I'm dying

Its objectionable

I think I'm dying

I think...

I'm dying.

No!

I'm living.

I know I'm living.