I hated
being your therapist

Bound by expectations and theory
that tells me what to say and how to say it
When this real person
Was sitting
Three feet across from me
Standing on her last leg

I wanted to tell you what I saw in you
not what the theory said
I wanted to tell you
that your future was bright
Your smile could light up an entire room
Your passion and creativity could lead you
From these depths to your success
If only
Just a little
You could believe in yourself
Your talent
And your smile

Instead
I watched as you struggled
And I struggled myself
To help you see
In the most objective light possible
Your own beauty
And how you could change your thinking

But little by little
Those people hurt you
And you felt your trust
Slip
Away

Until you no longer wanted to live
Until
You told me
What you would do

I called for help
To someone I could trust with my own life
We tried to save yours
I never
Saw
You
Again

You are alive
And hopefully well

But how
I
wish
I had been your friend
And not your therapist

Lids open with a snap
to thick, almost solid,
streams of  moonlight

In the silver haze,
Black holes peer
from an alabaster face

Complete paralysis
crushes my hope of escape
every skin cell stitched to the sheets

My mind terrified,
my body tingling
with unexpected relaxation

Waves of calm roll
through every muscle
turning me to nothing
feeling as if my bones
have vanished with
the interrupted dream

The swing of a medallion
through beams of static light
My eyes swivel in their sockets
Skinny fingers snap
Everything turns to black

I’m scared of touching you.
Of putting my lips on yours,
And tasting the truth.
I’m scared of holding your hand,
And that you’ll never let go.
I’m scared of getting too close,
And not being able to back out.
I’m scared of letting you love me,
And that maybe I’ll love you back.
I’m glad you trust me,
But please stop telling secrets.
Don’t whisper in my ear,
Don’t sing my favorite songs.
I’m trying to make you stop,
Stop the spread your disease.
Disease people call love,
Love I’ll never know.
Knowing how to love is an art,
Art no Mozart could draw.
Draw me closer and you’ll see,
See my bad sides and my truth.
Truth you just can’t bear,
Bear to hear from me.
Me, myself and I,
I think that’s all I have.
Have been like that for ever,
Ever and ever I’d like to keep.
Keep me close but far away,
Away from love, from it all.
All that comes with hiving hugs,
Hugs that hold no meaning.
Means that I don’t want you
You to want me back.
Back is where I want to go,
Go where I felt safe.
Safe and sound sounds good to me,
Me, myself and I.
I like the sound of that.
That’s the way I want it.
That’s how I belong.
Please don’t hold my hand,
Please don’t hold my heart.
I like you how you are,
You like me how I am.
Let’s not change that right now.
I like where I belong.
I’m scared of changing the alphabet,
Putting U right next to I.
It would mess up absolutely everything.
Me, Myself, and I.
I like the sound of that.

Awake, awake my little Boy!
Thou wast thy Mother’s only joy:
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep.

“O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O Father, I saw my Mother there,
Among the lillies by waters fair.

Among the lambs clothed in white
She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn—
O when shall I return again?”

Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;
But though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.

“Father, O Father, what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star.”

Early in the morning, as the hive mind descends into slumber,
When most fall prey to sleep, a few neurone finally awaken;
The creative come out to paint dreams
And discuss the day's events free from the scorn of the logical.
Together they share a laugh as they rule over the dormant brain.

With a smaller audience
The shy learn to speak
And those present marvel
At the words that escape their lips.

Later in the day,
A smile exchanged,
Recognition of what transpired.

When the remains of their creations are discovered
Little can be done to defend it from biased eyes;
Yet neither shame nor regret is felt in the hearts of the creative,
Only anticipation for their time to come once more.

When tired eyes meet,
A sleepy nod exchanged,
A promise I meet up again
After a few nights of rest.

craigslist posts on women

Things women hate about other women (MICHIGAN)
I'm a man and I got no problems with beautiful women and love looking at and spending time with them. Listed some of the problems women have with other women and why some of them get to be targets of world's biggest haters.

1. Beauty - If the women think you are prettier than them, the more threatened they feel. They feel like ogre and hags around the woman and become haters.
2. Intelligence - It's okay to be smart but not if people are reaching for dictionaries or have to google to translate your last sentence. The bigger the words, the smaller your audience feels.
3. Hard Work Ethic - no woman wants to know another woman is working harder and reaping rewards from it. Women want that hard working woman gone.
4. Confidence - Women can't stand women who are confident.
5. Dress better - women hate other women who dress better than them. Women who dress flashy are called ****** by ****** ones who hate them.
6. Strong Personality - women have serious issues with women who are strong and speak minds.
7. Competitive - women are competitive by nature and when they feel they can't compete they hate.
8. Affluent - women being richer than another woman is not what other women want. You see women have to have more money than other women or the richer one get called all kinds of name.

Women feel threatened and intimidated by other women faster than by men who they flirt with and plot to get as sugar dads. Biggest problem of women are women who hate other women


Response to post

competition in women
Ever have a female friend who flirted with you knowing you had feelings for another woman? Been there with a few ladies who wanted nothing to do with me when I alone. Moment the office sweetheart started saying hi and took interest, I got popular with some of my co-workers who started saying hi and flirting. That's the competitive thing happening in women's brains. Where the hell were all the women when nobody wanted me?

I don’t love you.
In fact, I don’t even like you.
But I admit, there’s something about the way the bird in my chest starts to sing your name and I pray you can’t hear it with every step I take away from you.

Instead of meeting yours, my eyes wander away together, because they have better things to do than have pointless conversations— I shush them and push them slowly towards you, because those “pointless conversations” are the only ones we have

There’s nothing really remotely handsome about you. In fact, I can see your mother whenever I look at you: the long bridge of your nose, the mischievous twinkle in your eyes, you were a total momma’s boy, but I remember hearing of adventures with your father—skiing, hiking, camping—all rugged outdoors-y activities that I could only dream of doing or even enjoying.

I don’t love you.
In fact, I don’t even like you.
But there’s something about the way you touched my hand briefly that made my ears burn—perhaps you were a lit candle, and I was an ice sculpture of nothing in particular, so when we touched I cried out in pain, but I wanted to bring you closer

There’s this tone in your voice when we talk, and it speaks nothing of love at all—not for me, or anyone in the room. You talk to me as you would a child, a young girl, your sister’s best friend—and I am all of that. I should learn to be content with that

I remember hearing about a girl in your life, and I don’t think I knew what to feel. I shared in with sisters’ and your mother’s teasing whispers about her, in their hushed laughter. I didn't share what another part of me felt—something strange and twisty, like licorice, and no matter how long you chewed on it, it never got smaller, never disappeared, but it did manage to leave a strange taste in your mouth.

I don’t love you.
In fact, I don’t even like you.
But nothing stopped me from going up to my sister last night to tell her: “I think I have a problem.” I like to think of myself as “reasonable”, but no matter what I thought, I couldn't reason with myself. I couldn't find the exact moment, the exact word, and the exact reason for why I felt this about you.

We've known each other since your sister and I were small. Even then, I avoided you, and you did the same. There was nothing we could talk about—you were into sports and I was into dolls. I’d hide away with your sister in our imaginary lands, and you were probably at hockey practice, but you were the first boy I've talked to and that scared me.

What am I to you, anyway? I've been told I was a part of the family…do you think so too? Do you follow the unspoken rules like I’m desperately trying to? Do you wonder, at all? I try to block you out of my thoughts, push you away as if you were like vegetables on my plate. There’s nothing about you, logically speaking, that should make me think about you.

I don’t love you.
In fact, I don’t even like you. So why is this happening?

You are not allowed to like me
I'm afraid of what it will do to me
I can't let you get close to me
I'm afraid of how you will hurt me
I've caged my self up for a year,
not letting anyone have the key
my padlocked heart never beating
just a fist pounding against the wall,
mimicking my missing emotions
awaiting the realization from those around me that the key to my heart is not in my pants,
and THOSE need a key as well
the key to my heart is in my mind,
if you can fool me into believing you like me, you get my heart,
if you can fool my heart into believing you love me,
you get my mind.
so maybe i am a foolish person
the walls of the cage my only comfort,
cold metal my closest friend,
the slightest movement and it caresses my skin
the words I speak bouncing off of impenetrable walls
sinking in to my skin, my veins
slowing the blood flow to my emotionless heart
compressed, depressed, soulless and asleep
You are not allowed to like me
There is no reason to
The words i speak sharpened to daggers, in the hopes of removing your flesh, freeing your blood to the floor mine has stained  
My skin a canvas for the art of pain, my emotions wounding me,
My scalp the hidden salvation for my nails, leaving holes as claw away the thoughts of a happiness I am afraid of having
Blood and tears the last memory of happiness
blood and tears the ocean i drown myself in
Blood and tears washing away my fearlessness
blood and tears the ocean i drown myself in
Blood and tears washing away my fearlessness
Blood and tears
scabbing together what is left of me
You are not allowed to like me
I'm afraid of myself
I can't let you get close to me
I break too easy
I'm fragile
The walls of the cage my only comfort
they hold me

I like to wander to places
Places full of letters,
Places full of words,
Places full of stories.

My eyes are burning with passion,
Letters swim across, in front of me.
They pull me in, never letting go.
I'm trapped in a story I cannot fathom.

I am a part of a story.
A story filled with emotions,
Lessons, reasons, and seasons.
Yet, I am only on chapter fifteen.

I am a character of a story.
A character who has problems,
But caring, appreciating, and understanding.
I'm still trying to find a place in this world.

My life is a plot.
I will never know what would happen tomorrow.
The tranquility of time scares me.
I don't want to be afraid anymore.

Our story is unpredictable.
We are in a book of life.
A dictum of peace.
A tiny spark of hope.

Don't close your part of the book yet.
Something good is still happening.
Never ever regret.
This isn't the end.