OMG I have eaten way too much today.  I also have drank too much.  I’m going to blow up and it feels good.  I have nothing intentional nor inspiring to write, just to put thoughts down in a corner of the world that will collect them.  I am looking forward to 2010.  That is a completion of a cycle, the number 10.  I’m hoping that I will make progress with the mind plague that has me wrapped inside my own room rambling like the crazy woman I am.  I hope that the death of a little girl whom I loved more than I loved myself and with everything I am will continue to guide me in that silly canine way she always did.  Will comfort me when I am more than a little lonely and to let me know of her presence when I need something to cradle.  I raise a toast to the pine tree growing more every year over her grave to watch over her, that she may always know where I am.  Ibanez was the closest thing I will ever have to a daughter, and I miss her more every year, even if the people who know don’t care.  I loved her and continue to love her and know all too well in the heart that I have left from the wreckage I allowed it to endure that I will never learn to begin to love and trust myself again until that part of me I mourn is somewhat healed again.  I cannot even begin to love another man again until I know myself again and the void I have created for myself.  I cannot think about humans in the same kindness as animals anymore and that is my problem, no one elses.  I know I’m producing one hell of a pity party, but this wound and memory still has the power to hurt and lance the hurt inside that will never go away.  I cannot forgive others for their cruelty towards me for what I am and for who I am.  It is so easy to say to get over myself and to not let others bother me, but I am not a regular human who can dismiss such blows as readily and easy as others.  I have always thought that I had a foot on this world and another foot in another world.  That would be the closest thing to describe this myre.  I have been told all my life to get a fucking back bone, but it is never that easy.  I have confidence to obtain the necessities of life, but never to obtain dreams that I have dreamt in the silent recesses of my mind.  I have talked to counsilors and therapists who pass me like an object to see and disect.  Am I so readily disposed of?  I can only cope and believe that there is a little spirit with me especially at this time of year to let me know in one way or another that I am loved and looked after.  So what do I do now?  Move on and learn to deal with this part of me I hate and wish to put away.  I learn to cover the hurt with laughter and music.  I learn to deal with a family who will never understand, because if I do not do these things, I will become insane with this demon taking over me.  It has been a wish of mine since five years ago when all this topped the cake of what has become me that when I die and whenever that may be that Ibanez is the first being I see.  Otherwise, heaven will seem pointless.  She was my soulmate, and I know that word is only usd between lovers, that girl knew me even if she was another species.  A large part of my heart was taken and buried when the bastard who killed her took her from me.  How could I have been so naive?  How could I ever believed that I wasin love with that bastard?  I blame myself every day and the pain never lessens.  I can only tak comfort inknowing she is still with me, because I can survive no other way.  I know all this sounds crazy and stupid, but it is a belief that is so engrained in me that I can still feel her warmth in the morning when I wake and can at least smile at the thought of knowing I was visited. 

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