ipunchbabies

Obviously you get something out of it. Everything we do as human beings is for a cause, for a reason. We breathe for air. We eat because of hunger. Intoxicate ourselves for peace. Give for the joy of giving. Hurt for control and pride. Collect for the sake of company. Love because we are trained to. Because we crave for attention and affection. Stimulation. Acceptance. You will do it until you're not getting anything out of it. Until the good has gone from it. Until you're suffering so deeply that you can not continue. Hurt or anger or guilt or compassion you can no longer ignore. Some sick masochistic punishment fulfilled. You love until

I wonder sometimes really if there is such a thing as unconditional. I mean isn't there always a deal breaker? Worst case scenario. I mean what if I spend two whole days on the floor rocking myself gently and crying about loss and grief and how dead I am inside? Would there be someone who would love me still? Or what if I spent two whole months crocheting a big beautiful blanket just to sit and unravel it piece by piece. Long strings strung about the floor and where there was an inquiry as to why I'd say I just needed to destroy something other than myself. Or vowed to take an adventure all the way to Kansas and decided half way there that I'

On a Sunday morning we'd much rather stick pills in our asses than function in society. Now, don't get me wrong. This is not something we've done before, but it seemed like a valid suggestion a few minutes ago. And if one of us were to overdose it would really be a shame, because sometimes I think I'd rather let him die than have the world know that sometimes we just can't control ourselves. And we don't care to. We live on the edge because that is where it is comfortable for us. The teetering motion keeping us half on solid ground, and half ready to tumble into the abyss, is like a lullaby. A soft rocking motion saying everything is fine

Sometimes it's amazing to me that so much crazy can be harbored in the confines of a cranium. Or how so much longing can be lost in the crevices of a damaged heart. I imagine Hello Killy Band aids slowing the bleeding, not even close to concealing the wound. I ache for things I cannot describe. I wonder sometimes if Vanishing Twin Syndrome is the explanation to my longing. My other half wasn't ever there for me, so I consumed that bitch out of spite. Even fetus me didn't have much tolerance for disloyalty.

Disney is coming out with a wedding dress line. So all those little girls reading the fairy tales- can finally be a princess for one day, and one day only. Because after you turn the final page you have no choice but to plummet back to reality. Sometimes Prince Charming ends up the Big Bad Wolf in disguise Come to huff and puff and blow your dreams away. I will never be a princess but you will always be a frog. We'll call it even.