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glamorous_heart

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I pen the thoughts that won't come to my mouth, that beckon to be heard no less. With them I say the things that I am incapable of voicing.

I want to make you fall in love with my words, to make you become enamored with my voice before you've even heard it, to lure you into my world and have you coming back anxiously and make it so that every night without is like trying to end a heroin addiction overnight. I want to achieve world domination, one jaded reader at a time.

I'll be the cocaine for your literary addiction, so cut a line and cry with me, smile with me, commiserate, and I will allow, if not force, you to live vicariously through me, enjoy my life of love and hate, pleasure and pain, stop and go, heaven and earth and hell, too.

I'm an accident happening in slow motion and dont worry, my ride has got passenger-side airbags. I'm a breakthrough and a tragedy pending... cant you tell?

Whether I ultimately invoke pity, envy, sympathy, empathy, or indifference it doesnt matter. You'll stand up and realize that your book is open to my page, and that the rest of the tattered pages arent there anymore, or just matter no longer. You might even find that my page is dog-eared, or that a bookmark runs along the spine and caresses the binding of this book. So turn the page you can't and finding this will be easy. It'll always be an opportune time to read me and I'll always be here. After all, who am I to disturb devotion?

So exactly what is this all about, you ask? Well there are many types of writers. Some write for the sake of their ego. Hell, one could contend that all writers write to pad the good old ego a bit. Who knows, despite my ramblings and claims of writing for me and only me, I write for you, too. I write so that I can feel elevated, so that I can say, "I did this, now you have an opportunity to get something from it." Where I fell you can jump. Where I died you can live. But that's really not the main purpose. It is to tell a story of the day to day things that cross my mind at a moment's notice or to dispell the hatred within my heart for the things that I have been subjected to within the damaged brain I deal with.

I write pain and this seems to be a constant, read it and interpret as you will, and so will I.

I? Me? that's right. I am my intended audience. I write for myself. Just as my parents once had me stand with my back to a wall to pencil in marks on the plaster to chart my vertical growth, I write to chart my emotional growth. I write to remind myself of the lessons I've learned, hopefully so as not to make the same mistakes twice. I write with the intention of showing myself who I've been, who I am, and who I might end up being, prospectively.

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I'm a girl. I'm a woman. I'm a mother and someones child. I'm a wife and a lover. A dreamer and at times a philospher. I live how I can live, one day at a time. I expect far too much from others and feel little is expected of me. I want alot, but never get alot, because I don't push for it. I fantasize of a life that incorporates my real life into those fantasies. I love and I want to be loved. I laugh and I love to hear laughter. I cry and I want to be held. I am afraid and yet I thrive on that fear at times. I am a woman in a little girls mind. I am Nevada. Love me and hate me too for I am an emotional roller coaster.. a tragedy waiting to happen and yet believe me when I say the ride will not be like any others.

I ramble endlessly about anything and nothing. I have friends that I adore and those that I just like. They are all family.. a family that I never met in real life. They are my support and even my biggest critics. They keep me grounded and for the most part, if you are allowed to read this then you may find yourself talked about here.

I like fluffy, fat cats and rottweilers are the only dogs for me and I like fish in outrageous aquariums. I like cuddling before the tv and watching silly movies or wrapped up on the sofa reading a book as it storms outside. I like long walks in the woods and night time rendezvous for ice cream. I like long talks on the telephone that encompass all emotions, tears and laughter and yes, even passion. I collect faeries and bears and seashells and rocks and I am silly and fun and emotional and real.