Pain

Another sleepless night.
Too much on my mind,
too much depression.
The craving ceased,
for cigarettes and food at least.
Now.. pain? What the hell?

I mean, sure. I have these feelings
when I'm so angry I just want to feel pain,
stab myself, start biting again.
Even if I did bite, it wouldn't be the same.
 I've bitten so many times that the wrist
no longer feels the pain I need.
I used to be able to get my knee cap,
but I can't stretch that far any more.

It pisses me off.
How vulnerable I am.
How strong I try to be.
How the only people who understand
aren't the one's I want to hear from.
How hearing from the others
piss me off, because they
blow me off like I mean nothing.

I want to bite even more.
Be bitten even more.
I used to roleplay sadistically
so I wouldn't have to result to real pain.
If I did that now, even if it's OCs,
I would feel like I'm cheating.
Plus, it lost it's luster after dating 2.

Not just the sadism, but cybering in general.
Roleplaying in general.
Because he was the only one I wanted
to do those things with.

I know I can't depend on him.
I know he wouldn't do it anymore.
But damn it, when I get like this,
I can't help but crave it.
No matter how much I now detest it,
no matter how much I love 1.

1 doesn't understand my pain,
or lackthere of. I send a cry of help,
he merely says he doesn't know what to say.
I'm DYING. The least you could do
is try and comfort. Try and understand.
Don't make me feel worse.
Lonely.
Lonely..

Life Support.

Standing on a cliff, just above a jetty.
the wind ignites her hair into a wild dance.
a storm is brewing, and yet, she is calm.
Eyes closed, arms free, dress shirt flowing
to the left. It's time.
Without a second thought she jumps,
a downward spiral head first.
"Goodbye.." she whispers.
"See ya in Hell babe." her other half.
 Nova.

She left him a note. A simple question.
Why am I such a mental patient?
She never expected him to answer.
He never did before.
And so she dives, heart
compressing from the pressure of the air.

A hand.
A hand touches her own.
"What happened."
She is turned so her feet face
downward, eyes meeting his.
Suspended in time, she vents.
Her other half tries to take over.
But with every word from his mouth,
 she is knocked down, with every word
peace starts to envelope the child.

Funny,
How although she is older than the man,
she is inferior. A little girl, almost broken,
depending on him as her angel, her blanket
to catch her fall and make the fear go away.
She loves him. More than she should.
She depends on him. More than she should.
Without him she would die.
He carries her back up to the cliff,
then down to the shore.
He leaves without a word after.

Does he realize she is dying?
Does he realize her love for him,
him actually speaking to her,
is one of the only things keeping
her alive?

Does she realize she can't
depend on him to be her life support
any more?

Little poetic dribble from Scars and Stripes.

I patiently wait for his eyes to open.
Right by his bedside, in the outfit he picked out,
tugging lightly at my collar. So tightly
he clipped it on, and only he can take it off.
He never will, I know this much.
Yet if he loosened it enough for me to
not have to choke the air I breathe,
I would still be by his side.

He doesn't believe me. Last night,
As he locked the door and pinned me
to the wall, he told me directly. To him,
I'm a bitch on a leash, faithful only when
there is nowhere to go, yet will betray
my master as soon as the door is opened,
as soon as he is out of sight. 

My master..
Even if I wished to betray him,
Even if I was given the freedom
of an open door, a night without
my collar or shackles to keep me bound,
I would never. Because the reason
he shackles me is so that he
can be free.

I shift uncomfortably as his eyes open,
yet regain composure like that of a trained
soldier. He would say I'm brave like one.
He glares at me, I stare back, not showing
any fear. "Good morning. Master." Strained
are my words, yet that eases him. Somehow.

I give him room to sit up, bow while
he gets out from under the sheets.
"Mina." I perk up, my lips meeting
his on impact. His eyes are open,
watching my reaction. I play into it,
close my eyes, let one hand land gingerly
on his shoulder. He approves, sweeps his hand
under my skirt and pulls me closer.
I wince as he traces the gashes he created
nights before, yet that causes him to scrape
deeper into them. I yelp, he pulls me even
closer. "Master.." I breathe into his lips,
and he grants me some air.

 Our eyes meet again as I catch my breath,
and I search for some emotion other than
lust and hatred inside those perfect orbs
of melted copper. Nothing still. I wait
for him to kiss me again, yet he simply
stands there, hands in places I've still
not gotten used to, staring through me.

"Is.. something the matter, sir?"
My voice is soft, sifting the peace through
the pain. I let the concern
show in my eyes in hopes that he
might see it to no avail. He pushes me aside,
looks the other way as I fall, and walks to the door.
"Master." I call one last time, wait for him to stop,
and as he turns to me, I lift both of my wrists  up.
I don't have to say anything after. He manages a smirk,
locks the door again, and grabs the shackles.

"I've taught you well."

Ever since the fire all those weeks ago,
I've consumed a whole new identity.
I was no longer Penny Thorsen, servant
to the most polite and grateful nobles
in town. I was Mina, slave and slate
to their beloved nephew whose career
and sanity also were extinguished on
that night. He inherited my body,
and turned it into something only he
would appreciate. I am his canvas.
His American Flag.

I didn't expect anything logging on Skype this morning, I was just opening it in case of a dubber friend wanting to get a hold of me. So while I was going through my daily internet routine, I hear the little Skype squeak, look at the notification and my heart skipped a beat. That friend, the one I lost touch with, actually STARTING a conversation. We spoke for a while, then added in our third friend just like old times. We were speaking as we did those three years ago, goofing around and having a grand old time.

However.

I felt a wave of sadness, the more we spoke. Bittersweet nostalgia, perhaps. It got a bit awkward in the conversation when the third friend(Lets name her Faye) started asking us about our relationships. It was normal for me, because she usually asked and I was happy to announce it was almost a year for me and 1, but it was hard to listen to Friend when he was speaking of his newest breakup. Why? Because, sad to say, I connected that to the relationship the two of us had. Only ours was much more complicated and lasted longer than a week, but still.And then the part of me started to think if Friend felt awkward listening to me speak about 1 as well.

I can say I have never laughed that much as I did talking to those two, though. Faye and Friend will always be the most special people in my life no matter what, even though we've drifted apart. And I only hope that today is the rebirth of our adventures together.

A Life for Myself

A few weeks ago an old friend of mine said that it seemed like I really had found a life for myself. I decided to consider all that would be considering finding a 'life' by comparing myself who when I first met him to now.

Back then:
~Just got over my 'part cat' stage
~Obsessed with Naruto and became an Orochimaru fangirl
~illiterate and overly morbid
~suicidal
~99.9 percent straight
~No job, doing below average in school
~In love with someone I would never meet
~Both parents worked, sister moved out, barely any friends, grandmother passed away
~quit singing/band
~Barely ever cried due to a song or movie, uberly sensitive to real life stuff though

Now:
~Forget almost everything from my childhood/ tween years
~No longer a fan of Naruto, still into anime
~Could care less about the real life stuff(minus losing friends), cries like a baby with certain songs and most movies/anime
~still morbid, but a better writer
~Bipolar
~Bisexual
~Ended highschool with some of my best grades, been working for 2 years
~Been in a steady relationship with someone I genuinely love for almost a year now
~Mom jobless, tons more friends, but feels like her dad isn't a dad to her and has no close extended family (as in grandparents, aunts, cousins, etc)
~Dubbing
~An alcoholic waiting to happen

I wonder, AM I really better off? Have I found a life worth living? I guess to anyone else, I have changed into a respectable woman. People who once shunned and made fun of me now respect and admire me for being so different, and for being able to stand on my own(as far as holding a job and stuff goes.) But, to me, I feel like I've gotten worse. They do say the people who are looked up to by many are the most messed up psychologically, and I can't doubt that at all. But it makes me wonder, how did I really get this mentally screwed up? There weren't any events in my life that directly effected me that could do the trick. Never been beaten, raped, never drank or had drugs nor were my parents/sisters doing so at the time.. Some deaths, some problems with my aunt's life and her kids/ my grandfather that I was too young to know about and by the time I did know I didn't care. I guess the only real kicker had to be the neglect/ teasing I faced as a child, but could it seriously have been THAT scarring as to make me suicidal and crazy? Was it really enough to make me trust people on the internet more than people in real life, and fall in love with one of said friends to the point where I was mentally unstable when we were dating? I guess I never will know..