I've decided to write. Yeah you know, that thing blogs are for..or whatever. It won't be organized. Far from it actually. Most will likely be weird opinions of random stuff. Humor might show up here & there, but also other strange crap. Mourning, loss, pain, goals, bizarre poetry, art & lack of. Poverty, childhood, my children, my dog & too many cats...it'll just be truly random. Whatever I feel like writing. More of like an online journal, or diary of my own personal madness.
One thing you'll have to expect is something I'm famous for: run-on sentences. Now also technology has screwed most of our brains out of where proper punctuation goes as well (see above). Did I need that colon? Who gives a fuck, cuz I don't. Well I kinda do, but erm..yeah.
Anyway, welcome to my weirdness.
So on we go...
Life in Limbo seemed an appropriate temporary title for my world. About 20 minutes ago I was pleading with the entity called "God". I'm alone in this house, so saying anything out loud is pretty much only fair game for me here in this wooden void. So I'm crying, then yelling up. You know, the great "up", cuz God's supposed to be up above us right? Problem was I couldn't get completely past the barrier that I was yelling at my ceiling. I tried, but the tacky Greek-ish looking paste on trim was thoroughly distracting. Also the ugly platform ceiling that always gives the feeling that my bedroom's a cheap office.
So while I'm praying for my children to come home (long story there), I'm also at the same time trying to reason with the "All Mighty". That fucked the whole thing up. Really I was just pleading with anything out there to please, please, have mercy & send them home. However, I did begin to sound like someone on their knees, hands tightly gripping each other, & tears flowing. It quickly began to sound less like praying to God & more like praying for mercy in front of King Henry the VIII. Words sounded more like they were straight out of a period film. Me begging & pleading for mercy for my children. Spewing "forsaken" & sentences like "end their suffering", "release this burden", began flowing. By the end I may as well have been speaking Latin.
If I keep it up I think I'll be giving myself lashes with a whip within of couple weeks. The only thing I know is that no pain can ever equal the pain of not having my children. In fact it may actually feel good to beat the crap out of myself. I know that sounds gruesome & wrong, but even a nanosecond of physical pain that I can do & then stop, at least gives me control of that pain & release of, whereas there is no controlling the pain of my children's suffering they've been through & continue to go through, unless this thing called "God" finally releases us all from the grips of inhumanity & injustice. I will punish myself for every one of their tears, every time they're afraid, all pain they've been through. Why? Because even though the court has been corrupt & served severe cruelty upon our family despite innocence of all (except their father), I'm their mother & it is my job to keep them loved & safe. So I am guilty of every moment they're not, because they're not with me. That can never be forgiven. Their suffering should have all involved in this custody battle beating the hell out of themselves for it. My children will never be the same. Until they're home with me, they've made it clear to me that they'll always be sad & afraid.
That's all for today.
- blonde, blue eyed, do you want my likes and dislikes? Just Kidding. I'll fill this out at some time when I know exactly how to describe myself..which might be by someone else, post-mortum, only because I don't think I could sum myself up entirely, because people in general change everyday and can never make up their minds and if they are adamant about something? Well then they're not open to new ideas, research,and realizations. Everyday something happens that makes us different the next day than what we were the day before. That's life.