Broken paper heart By TAW4

love letter to a narcissist, a

Did you have to do this?
I was thinking that you could be trusted
Did you have to ruin what was shining now it’s all rusted

Oh, it’s so sad to think about the good times
You and I

‘Cause baby now we got bad blood
You know it used to be mad love
So take a look at what you’ve done
‘Cause baby now we got bad blood (hey!)
Now we got problems
And I don’t think we can solve them
You made a really deep cut
And baby now we got bad blood (hey!)

Did you think we’d be fine?
Still got scars on my back from your knife
So don’t think it’s in the past
These kind of wounds they last and they last
Now did you think it all through?
All these things will catch up to you
And time can heal but this won’t
So if you come in my way, just don’t

Tomorrow you’ll be thinkin’ to yourself
Yeah, where’d it all go wrong?
But the list goes on and on

And truth be told, I miss you (I miss you)
And truth be told, I’m lyin’

When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell
If you find a man that’s worth a damn and treats you well
Then he’s a fool, you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell

Now, you’ll never see what you’ve done to me
You can take back your memories, they’re no good to me
And here’s all your lies, you can look me in the eyes
With the sad, sad look that you wear so well

We’ll never get free
Lamb to the slaughter
What you gon’ do
When there’s blood in the water?
The price of your greed
Is your son and your daughter
What you gon’ do
When there’s blood in the water?

Beg me for mercy
Admit you were toxic
You poisoned me just for
Another dollar in your pocket
Now I am the violence
I am the sickness
Won’t accept your silence
Beg me for forgiveness

Photo by Elijah O'Donnell from Pexels

i spent my twenties finding me

Some might say I wasted that decade. Threw my twenties away. They might be right–

— but they might be wrong.

If I could pass on a single life lesson to anyone, it would be this:

Whoever you are, wherever you are, please put aside that time to find yourself.

Because happiness is tricky. Everyone’s searching for the secret to happiness. And, no, I’m not going to reveal the secret to happiness in five hundred words or less. But I do want to share this observation. As I’ve met folk and shared stories, I keep being reminded of this:

It is never a waste to find ourselves.

I’d say do it sooner than later, but it is also never too late. I chose to find myself first, and if you are still able to do that, I’d encourage it. But some of find ourselves in our forties, after our first marriage. Or in our sixties, after we’ve built our professional selves– and want to know who we are outside of the boardroom. It’s never too late, either.

But while it may never be too late, it is certainly never too early. Don’t wait until you are “ready.” Until you have the job, the house, the kids. You matter must.

So, what are you waiting for?

one lazy afternoon with my girls, OR why i need a ‘safe space’

I show up, mid afternoon, with a bottle of strawberry margarita mix and a box of donuts.

I don’t know all these girls. I don’t even know if they are all girls, aside from 1) the assumptions I’ve been conditioned with my whole life that says “This person ‘looks’ like a girl,” and 2) my friend called this a “Girls’ Night.” At least one is non binary. But it’s okay that I don’t know their names, identities, etc. Because I know my friends, and I know they wouldn’t bring anyone here who wasn’t someone I could be myself around. And I’ll learn about them, and, perhaps even get to know them better over time. Beyond anything else, I’m looking forward to sitting and luxuriating in all the feminine energy!

Semi-quarantine during Covid is a funny time to meet people, you might say. It’s true. And I don’t often. But when I do go out? It’s almost always gotta be something like this. Where I don’t have to mind my p’s and q’s (whatever the p and q stands for, anyway.)

I can just be…me.

Some of us, perhaps, are lucky enough to have had/have this our whole lives. Wherever we go. I am sure some of my vanilla-presenting friends are, indeed, as happy as they say. As comfortable floating through life, as I am, in my trusted little bubbles. I do not hold this against them. But it may be hard for someone who “fits” to understand what it means to “not fit.”

But, here, among this group of girls, I feel safe. And I just don’t feel this way in proper society. It’s not even much different, to be honest. Nobody’s pulling out their floggers and dragon tails. Only -one- girl is in a unicorn onesie. Everyone’s (nearly) fully clothed. Nobody came here to play. Tonight isn’t about that. It’s about being among like minded folk. Open, reassuring, creative, etc. All the things I love best. That’s all.

I don’t even want play, not tonight.

If it happens, it happens. But tonight, it doesn’t, and I’m perfectly okay with that. I needn’t even be kinky to be welcomed by this very lovely group. If I were very modest and vanilla, nobody would care. Nor would they care if I were Super Kinky Woman.

We just eat donuts and drink wine. Mention the latest penis we’re dating (with pics!) and also how nicely the paint came out in the new house. Or try on cute clothes during an impromptu fashion show. And, yes, I do mean flashing penis pics at each other. Okay? These things happen.

More than, that, however, I can cuddle up to my girlfriend, whilst casually referring to my other partners.

Nobody blinks. No curious glances. No lengthy explanations and spontanous mini Ted talks. We continue to drink wine and eat donuts. And that’s surprisingly refreshing!

Everyone shares a bit about what they are up to these days. I tell them about the munchkins, the castle we’re moving into, the fun little adventures I’ve had…all of it. Without worrying if I’ve slipped up, said too much. Said the wrong thing.

Because all of these girls are “worse” than me.

Or just as bad. Or as awkward, or quirky, or strange…or anything as I am. At any rate, none of us will judge the other. And they practically assume you are kinky, poly, whatever. Which is problematic in its own way, but still, for once it’s nice for the assumptions to be made in the opposite direction (“No, sorry, I’m actually quite vanilla and mono, but I appreciate that you are different from me!”)

Well, -I’m- not mono, but I am, actually, fairly vanilla. Except for the whole M/s/pet play/I’m owned thing. But, like, who doesn’t do that, right? (kidding!) Still, I don’t own a single sex toy that I use (my friend gifted me a dragon tail, but I don’t actually want it used on me/know how to use it. Of course, I may change this in the future.)

There’s not even any qualification here as to who is Kinky Enough or Poly Enough or Non Binary…or…or anything Enough.

When I’m here, I matter to these lovely folk. Just for being myself. No matter who I am or what I say (so long as it’s not cruel or offensive). I am heard, as are they.

I absolutely love and crave this. It’s my self care. It’s how I rejuvenate. With people like this. My girlfriend is here, and my partner joins later in the night (after we open up the evening to the boys and neighbors and such).

So, no, I don’t know these people, not all of them, but it doesn’t matter. Where do -you- go to be among your “safe” crowd?