wintercherry

[wintercherry]

Living Failures

Woe is me and Bloodborne references. Guess who suddenly has time to write? I really don't want to, though. I am sad; been like that for a while. I don't know why, worst yet, I don't know what to do about it. I exist in that space where I feel like it's not serious enough to speak up or reach out for help, but it definitely bothers me. And so I walk every day wondering if there is a point. Wondering if I'll even get around to the million things I have to do, If I'll rediscover the spark of joy some of my childish hobbies used to bring me. I could try... I really don't want to, though. And so I've attached myself to my Flower Princess. I derive my joy from hers, my happiness from hers, my will from hers. Also, her sadness, her sickness, her pain. It's part of being in a serious relationship, but I'm just so exhausted. Tired of having these emotions compounded. I could undo the ribbon that keeps us close... I really don't want to, though. And so I keep disapopinting. I don't know why I don't disappoint myself (guess the barrel is never deep enough for a narcissist), but I certainly disappoint her. She never really says it, but I can tell by how she looks at me, by how she treats me, by how she's falling into the same hole I'm in and how I the weight of trying to keep her head above is sinking me even more. With every mistake, every argument, every opportunity missed (in part because of this depression) we struggle to breathe, and I fail in my sacred mission of making her life better. I'm ready to break... I really don't want to, though.

[wintercherry]

Ch. 28

Chapter 28 arrives a few days late, but what do you want from me? I'm busy. Busy bee hasn't written one of these in a while. So much has happened I don't even know where to start. Perhaps at the end and work my way back? No, no, that doesn't work well outside of movies... maybe a more talented writer than myself can pull it off, certainly not me... and not now. This year was basically split in two: active and passive. The first half, the passive half, I spent mostly recovering. Although my accident happened during Ch. 26 (need to write about that), I had a second surgery to remove some scar tissue and facilitate the use of my hand. A good part of 26 and 27 was recovering from these surgeries. The inability to be as active as I used to be, plus the confinement to a place I did not want to be in, took a massive toll to my self-esteem. I would over-eat, I would cry at night, I would barely see my girlfriend. I found little joy in the things that I usually liked. I couldn't work, I had constant hospital visits, I was in the middle of a lawsuit (related to the accident), I was in the middle of corn acres. I was losing myself in a quiet depression and I didn't know how to ask for help. Then Chicago happened. Half way through the year, I made a trip to Chicago to see my family and friends. Little by little I began to regain my joy for life. The sun, the water, the hangouts, the great food, the unconditional love from my friends, and the recuperated support from my mother. And of course, Scarlet. It would be incredibly disingenuous not to mention Scarlet, after all, she played a big role in this chapter and takes the most credit for my reconstruction. I could dedicate a handful of paragraphs to what happened, but in the interest of time, I’ll keep it brief. She helped me increase my self-esteem to levels I never knew possible, as I’m sure I’ve said before, but she also became a huge burden on me. It is not that I was naive to her dark side... It's more that I willingly blinded myself to it. I was lost in what I wanted out of our... relationship? that I neglected to account for what she was feeling. In my defense, she was the embodiment of mixed signals. Our volatile relationship vanished into nothing. We do not talk anymore. I don't wish her well, but I don't wish her harm either... I just don't think about her anymore; that is unless I'm recounting what happened to me during this year. Again, it was Chicago that kickstarted the second half, the active half, of the chapter. I was a very battered soul. Physically, my arm doesn't work as it used to, in fact, it mostly just awkwardly hangs there; emotionally, I was in a perpetual rollercoaster of enjoying the daylights out of my time with my Princess followed to the pain of having her gone for most of the day. She leads a life that would fry most. Always deep into her research, always hungry for learning and chips-with-dip, yet my Flower Princess stuck with me every step of the way when it came to the accident. Not only taking care of me, but also driving me to a myriad of appointments, counseling me on legal goings, and bending over backwards to lift up my sprits. I really don’t deserve her. I needed to find a way to repay her; I needed to feel useful as a partner and as a human. So, when I finally was medically and legally cleared to work, I began the search. It was rough, as the biggest industry in the state, farming, is not a good match for a one-armed, out of shape, pink-haired transwoman from the big city. Jobs are a dime a dozen in Chicago, in here, everything is either too far, too tough, or too niche. Eventually, though, I landed where I am today: the hospital. It's hard work but it pays the bills... and then some. With a solid income and the modestly accommodating cost of living of the state of South Dakota, I was finally able to get me and my Princess out of her parent's house. I found and apartment, and little by little we've been adding all the nine yards to make it a home. A real love nest, because although I haven't been perfect, I can say without doubt that my love for her has not quivered one millimeter. In fact, I love her more than ever and I don't believe I could stop, even if I wanted to. I’m working hard so that we go through no want or need because she deserves nothing less. I love doing things together. With her everything is fun. The most mundane is an adventure, and the remarkable becomes incredible. From our trip to Florida (which was fucking amazing), to sitting on the couch on our phones, I take delight in every moment. She encouraged me to pursue a degree... any degree. With her support, I began my college career. I dislike school, but I cannot sit here and see her be the only one with a diploma on the wall. I am competitive, after all. Also, I want to be able to provide for her for years and years to come. So yes, school, work, and going out with my girl. This second half has gone by like a water stream. Chapter 28 is looking interesting. The clan is about to enter its next generation. Will this new heir unite the family again? Who knows. All I know is that I want to marry this girl, and I'm planning to propose this year. I am ready. Wish me luck! This is all I have the time and energy to write, but god, let me tell you, I could go into detail like nobody's business~ Some other time. And we? We make another year, too. I'm excited and I am afraid, won't you share these with me, cutie?

[wintercherry]

Manhattan

“It rains again over Manhattan” . . . Unable to purge Scarlet out of my thoughts, I give in to my desire to be close to her. We had continued our flirtatious banter ever since she left the party and my admiration for her persona grew with the arrival of every new text. We have a reciprocal, uncontrollable need to see each other again. We set up a date, however, it is not satisfactorily soon enough. Sunday becomes Thursday; Thursday becomes today. 8 P.M. becomes 7; seven becomes four. A rush of excitement runs through my body. I can feel adrenaline tingling my fingertips and causing a commotion in my stomach. Within me, old memories are resurrected. Memories of rejection, of love, of heartbreak, of inadequacy. Horrible sensations amplified by my garment: a Summer, peach colored, flower print dress. The dress I was wearing when the obsidian blade pierced my heart. “Reminds me so much of you” . . . There is an inexplicable esoteric feeling about the circumstances. It is the deja vu of the situation combined with my new mentality, maturity, and confidence; each reflected in my appearance. Aided by the parallels of these two dates, I resolved to once and for all rid myself of that obsidian shard left within me. It has been years and my pride still aches, it wishes for a way to get even. Just as I did back then, I exited my apartment and made my way to Scarlet. My confident stride is immediately noticed by a passerby. With a cloudy, grey sky as our background, a man looks at me and declares: “It is finally beautiful out.” Politely, I accept the compliment. By the time I reach Downtown, the air has turned bitterly cold. I can feel the chilling gusts cutting into my legs, yet my core boils with excitement and revenge. I see this opportunity as a vindication that never came. I began seeing my Flower Princess so soon after my episode with the Jaguar Knight that I had never allowed myself the proper process of forgetting him. This includes the stage where I grant myself the right of saying “I’m doing better than you now.” Petty. Although I am likely to have been erased from the memory of the Jaguar Knight, Destiny decides to present me with a beautiful case of metaphor as I walk past his skyscraper, not before raising my eyes to what I calculate to be his floor and smiling as if he was watching me. I finally put it to rest and leave it behind me to continue with my new voyage. I found myself now on the second half of my trip to meet Scarlet, and similarly to how the first half began, someone calls attention to my looks. A street performer looks at me and says into his microphone: “I love your hair,” promptly followed by the guitar notes of Roy Orbison’s Pretty Woman. My inflated ego itches to test if Scarlet feels the same way these onlookers do. Arriving at Scarlet’s territory, I realize that I’m early to our rendezvous. I walk out of the subway station to find an empty parking lot. It has only gotten colder and no person dares linger longer than necessary. This leaves me completely alone. I walk towards a now shut-down newspaper stand where its dusty windows serve as a provisional mirror where I can unapologetically stare at my reflection. I am satisfied with this visage. Scarlet arrives not long after. I enter her car but not before making a prostitution joke. Relatively to Scarlet, I am scantily clad. My short dress and posh jean jacket clash with her jeans and leather jacket. Given the weather, and given the fact that she did not have a strangely therapeutic moment on her way to meet me (I assume), I had no reason to expect any different. Yet, it matters very little, as Scarlet’s figure and porcelain face are enough to transform any rag into runway material. In our hastiness, we made no detailed plans of how the night should go or what exact thing to do. That does not stop us from talking. Every detail, every inquiry, every laugh, every bit of new information I learn from her transports me to a place where only us two matters. We arrive at a juice bar. This will do. Anything would. Once inside, we struggle to place an order. Neither of us wants juice, we want each other but we are not brave enough to say it yet. She comes up with an idea: order one flavor we both like and share. Her unsubtle romanticism is moving; she is either inexperienced or over experienced. 80’s pop culture references are sprinkled in between details of our lives. We laugh, we sip the sweet orange of our smoothie. I do not wish to toy with her, so I remain completely honest. I had never done the honest stitch on a first date before. Scarlet wishes to do more than simply chatting over a drink, but what else is there here? She suggests a movie. Inexperienced. We board her car and as I fasten my seatbelt I notice she’s been staring at me. I knew what she was going to say next… I was hoping she would. “I wanted to do this last night” she shyly whispers as she leans over to kiss me. Her beautiful face approaches mine and I am rendered puppet of my attraction towards her. We passionately kiss. After buying tickets for a movie, looking around for the perfect candy, and dancing around which flavor of soda we plan to drink, we find ourselves alone in front of the giant screen. With the dark room as our only witness, predictably, we kiss again. As other patrons begin to walk in, I embarrassedly lean away from her only to find that she apparently has little regard for public decency as she makes no effort to stop. Over experienced. I allow myself to be entangled in her game. We kiss, we put our arms around each other, our hands begin to move about our bodies. I first caress her face, I kiss her neck, I run my hand up her legs and hips to find my way to her warm, firm stomach. Just as a pair of teenagers would, Scarlet and I pay little attention to the movie, instead we allow ourselves to be lost in the entanglement of our lips and tongues, only occasionally stopping to rest by bringing her head to lay on my shoulder and putting a small kiss on her forehead. “Next to what I always swore I would never do” . . . After the movie is over, we walk back towards the parking ramp. We hold hands, we stop to passionately kiss under the cover of the night. She pushes me against a wall and bites my neck. What is she doing? Pain. I avoid it at all costs for myself, yet, I am superbly capable of inflicting it on others. I lean onto her perfumed neck and sink my teeth into her soft neck. She moans in arousal. We run inside her car, the only one in the parking lot, where we continue fostering the ecstasy of our waking sexuality. We follow the stablished cliché of making out in the back seat. Our hands run rampant on each other’s bodies. She holds me by my behind and pulls me closer, constantly telling me how beautiful I am and how sexy she finds my body. I fall easy prey to her compliments. No one had ever made me feel as wanted, as attractive, as sexy. I am not as naïve anymore. I know this is her game, I know I’m not the first to hear those words from her, I know exactly what she is after… because it is exactly what I’m after. This is exactly what I know I have repressed deep down, not the warmth of a heart, but the steaming passion of a body. I have a huge adrenaline rush as she introduces her hands under my dress and takes it off. The idea of being in a public area, because as empty and dark the parking lot was made it no less public space, combined with the vulnerability of my naked body was making my heart beat as hard and fast as those hot summer days running on the soccer fields. Feeling so wrong and so right… why is it so rewarding? She licks and sucks on every part of my body. I hold her arms to pause. I know I should not continue with this game but I don’t want to stop, I want to continue with this Russian roulette of sexual gratification. I grant her my consent to proceed. She strokes me as we kiss and I pull closer to her to kiss her shoulders and bite her neck once again. She goes mad with lust and claws at my back. She is not the only one under the spell of desire. I am as attracted to her as I have never been for anyone before. I cannot hold myself anymore, I touch her entire body. Every inch of it. Unapologetically, I hold and stare at her naked body. It is so enticing, so hot… I want her. I want her. I cannot think of anything else but us having sex. We drive to the nearest hotel where, after quickly getting a room we continue to brew this dangerous liquor of carnal pleasure with a stranger. For as much time as we have spent together, we are still no less strangers. In that room, I gave myself to her. Never had I been subject to such pleasing bodily sensations. Sweat, moans, the taste of her smooth skin. But it wasn’t only the physical stimulation that was so entrapping, it was the way she made me feel. She repeated over and over how sexy she thought I was, how cute, how good I made her feel. I would lie if I said I wasn’t thinking the same about her. Daybreak finally ends the spell. She has to return to her day-to-day, but she also acts cold and distant. The game was over; all magic was lost. I have to affront my deserved walk of shame but I discovered I was okay with that. I would likely not hear from Scarlett again, and I was okay with that. “alone in the hotel on the street of forgiveness” . . . I finally reach my apartment, tired, dirty, and as lonely as before. And then, waiting on the table as I enter, a care package sent by my Flower Princess. I open it. It’s filled with every kind of candy that I like and a few things that I didn't know I had forgotten back home. Buried under, a letter read: “Love + Miss You. Your Baby,” followed by one-line jokes that only the two of us understand. I feel tears coming down my face. “The thorn-ridden memories will know that I have broken your heart And the poison of my mistake will make the wounds eternal Let it out, and kiss life Because without you, you know my love, that I disappear” . . . ”I disappear” That was the real magic trick ”I disappear.”

[wintercherry]

Scarlet Witch

The brief magic of a night. I believe I've earned my vacation. I did surprisingly well in school, I've been through multiple doctor visits and two surgeries, I'm in the middle of a lawsuit, and I've put up with the seclusion of South Dakotan life. (I must clarify that the vast fields of nothing and corn are very relaxing... if it weren't for my mother-in-law) So, back at it again in my town, my turf, my playground. Homefield advantage and this girl likes to play games. But first, be nice and reconnect with your friends. Isolationism breeds desperation. Oh, crap. Friend wants to go to a party and wants me to come along. Is it too late to take back what I said? When I said "I'm down for whatever" I was expecting coffee or a lakeside promenade. These parties are not only queer-friendly, they are also drug-friendly. I don't do drugs; I can make stupid choices sober. You'll see. Before the party, I have to satisfy my inner weebo. ACEN, an anime convention. Don't tune out, I assure you it's relevant. Not only did I have a chance to hang out with myself after not doing so for so long, I also got to kick names and take ass (oh, I love you, Guardians) in KOF ‘98. Really, what I wanted the most was exactly what I got out of it, channel back my old self. Mindset, personality, drive, confidence... and my bad habits. Old self... old single self. With that out of the way, I'm ready to go to this party. I meet up with my friend and we Lyft there. (#notsponsored) Surprice surprice, other than the host, we are the only ones there. He is quite an interesting character, I give him that. With no reason to be inside, we all stand out in the porch. Eventually, more and more people begin to show up, enough to entice the host to go back in. My friend follows. I follow my friend. Christ, why is she just standing there? - "I thought you said you'd know some of the people here" - "I did, but the people I know haven't showed up yet" Golden. Who would've known walking around the convention's floor would exhaust the hex out of an out of shape girl? I didn't. Crap, I really want to sit down but all these people I don't know (and have little interest in knowing) have claimed every sit. Oh, I know! I'll sit on the stairs! It doesn't matter that the staircase is directly in front of the entrance and sitting there makes me look like the least threatening bouncer in history. Hey, at least I'm a few feet away from all that ruckus. Good; I need a moment alone to plot an escape plan in the form of an excuse equal parts believable and sensical. You picked the worst time to be out of ideas, brain! Sigh. Guess I'm staying. Then she walks in. She is gorgeous. The dimness of the entrance is instantly illuminated by the contrast of her flowing red hair and crimson jacket. The black of the night coming through the opened door fuses with her short black dress and boots, leaving only the pale of her exquisitely defined legs visible. Sitting at the base of the stairs, I am awarded front row privilege to such a spectacle of a woman. Say something. N- no. I- I can’t. People like me don’t talk to people like her. Say something! Now! - “Scarlet Witch” - “Huh?” - “Are you cosplaying Scarlet Witch?” - “Yeah” - “Nice” Now, I’m usually not that quick on my feet. I had just the day before seen Infinity War so the character was fresh in my memory. That, and also added to the fact that she came in accompanied by another girl, another attractive girl at that, cosplaying as Zero-suit Samus. Sharp deduction skills under favorable circumstances. She walks past the stairs, past me, into the crowd. I am in total disbelief. Had I known people like her frequented places like this, this would not have been my first party. The surprise begins to wear out quick as I go back to staring out into the darkness outside, only occasionally breaking my silence to not make my boredom too obvious to my friend… who is still just standing there. Suddenly, she is back. Why are you stretching your arm in my direction? Oh, your name is [SCARLET]? Nice meeting you. I am the bitch. No, I really did say that. She laughed. You know you don’t have to stick around, right? In fact, you didn’t have to introduce yourself. People like you usually ignore people like me. It’s okay. It’s science. Why are you still around? You don’t do well with crowds? This is your first party? Yeah, I can sympathize with those. However, I am not abandoning my position safely situated behind the staircase rails. Strategy is my second strongest genera. Scarlet and I begin to chat; begin to laugh; begin to breed life into this party. You were at ACEN? So was I. You like comics? So do I. You play Skirym? I only play good games. And one by one, people keep congregating to the doorway in order to join our conversation. Our little group eventually encompasses nearly everyone at the party. People. Fucking people. And fucking smokers. The smokers, as a whole, hive-mindedly decide that this is the perfect moment to have a cigarette. The entirety of the crowd spills out into the porch for the second time in the night. The host walks outside. My friend follows. Scarlet’s friend follows. Scarlet follows. I follow Scarlet. Being the last to I step outside, I notice that I am clearly not the only one under Scarlet’s spell. Actually, she sits in the single only chair in the middle of the porch with everyone else surrounding her, like the calm center of a storm. There is a contest for her attention. Several of the attendees joke with her, show videos to her, offer cigarettes to her. She makes sure to acknowledge every single request, yet, doesn’t seem keen on engaging in anything for longer than politeness dictates. She sits, royally, as if waiting for something. Of course that happens. What? Did you think you were special? I quietly linger outside with everyone, lost in my thoughts. Some time later, the cold of the night is forcing those with little care for climate preparedness to go back inside with the pretext of getting another beer and joining in basement karaoke. Everyone flows back in. I stay behind. Briefly. When I go inside, most of the people are in the basement. I have little interest in following so I resume my self-appointed role of guardian of the doorway. I sit on the stairs. Take off my glasses to massage the bridge of my nose. Put my glasses back on to see my friend standing there. Again. - “I’m going downstairs, are you coming?” - “Yeah, just give me a moment” - “Are you okay?” - “Yeah, go ahead. I’m right behind you” Not. Glasses off again. Rub. On again. Figure standing there again. Scarlet. I quickly invite her to sit beside me on the stairs. She accepts. We continue chatting as if we were never interrupted. We joke, we disclose more about ourselves, we open up about our inner demons. There is an undoubtable sense of companionship, of comfort and relaxation solid enough to allows us to be honest with each other. This was her magic. She looks at me with her bright aquamarine eyes so expertly accentuated by her black eyeliner. Sound is coming from her mouth, but I keep surrendering focus to her lips. Their natural rosiness lightly highlighted by gloss, so well defined and symmetrical. Such a splendid lure would rob any man of his senses enticing them to attempt stealing a kiss. I know; I felt it. Yet, I contained myself. This knight’s loyalty belongs to her flower princess. Besides, it’s not like she wou- - “I wanted to say this earlier… I really want to kiss you” - “I don’t think that’s a good idea” Gotcha. - “Woah. Okay” - “What?” - “I guess I’m not used to someone rejecting me, usually I’m the one rejecting guys” - “I bet” Scarlet wrestles with her emotions. She’s recently been through a breakup. Her feelings are getting the best of her. I have been in her exact spot, I’ve shared the anguish she feels inside. I am compelled to offer consolation. I put my arm around her. I offer words of experience while trying to mask the complete shock of her proposition left in me. I want to defuse the awkwardness and her quick emotional outburst, so I offer to join the rest of the group for karaoke. She agrees. No wonder she agreed, she has a powerful voice making her a tough act for anyone to follow. She enjoys the limelight. She sings, she gets complimented, the night goes on and she has seemingly forgotten about this stupid girl sitting in the corner. This is for the best. Still, I find myself wanting more of her. I want to sit next to her, I want more of her time, something, anything. Nothing happens. Eventually, her time to leave arrives. Despite our apparent distancing, she makes the point of coming to me to say goodbye. I offer to walk her outside but make it only as far as those damn stairs. Then, another surprise: she gives me her number. As she walks out the door I make my way to back to basement but I stop to embarrassedly admit to her: - “You know, you are the biggest regret of my life” - “What do you mean?” - “I’m always going to regret not kissing you” She smirks. She leaves. True to my words, I spend the rest of my night regretting, not because I didn’t kiss her, but because I craved so much more of her still and I would never get it. Unless… unless I text her. I did. She replied. Manhattan.

[wintercherry]

Sameless cross-promotion with my instagram account. You can follow @aiselredknight If you're tired of seeing how awful I am on the inside I promise you that the outside is not that much different haha.

[wintercherry]

Transgender day of Invincibility

Open my eyes to the sound of the alarmclock, "awaken my child..." says the devilish voice. Morning memes to help fight off the lazyness that comes with a short night's rest. Up we go. Shower while coffee is being made downstairs. Really looking forward to that. I've gone back to taking it with milk and nothing else. Check my phone and it's still early, but the lack of messages means I might have time to bring anime to the Franks in the form of catapults. This might go long. Long it goes alright, suddenly it's past 10am and I still have no messages. Other than a morning chat with my girl the world could've thought I had gone missing. I am missing food in my stomach. Coffee can only take me so far, but my sister, whom I'm supposed to be having breakfast with, has decided to bail on me. "This is the fourth time in a row." Exale I am always alone. My friends are always busy, my girlfriend lives out of state, and my family keeps bailing on me. "I can only count on you." Kiss A shame, it was transgender day of visibility, and even thought I hate being lumped into a group involutarily, I had decided to make the best of it and be as radiant as I could be, of course, in my personal definition of the word. I tire of games and youtube but my other plans are not until later in the day, so I come to terms with the idea of my morning being more of the same. "I guess I could bring more anime to the peoples," I think while still on my pajamas. Fire up AoEII. Get the early game going- you go pick berries while I pick up the phone- "Hello?" -"Do you still want to go out" -"Ah, yes!" tremble "yeah." -"Okay, I'll pick you up in ten minutes. Think about where you want to eat." Hang. Save. Rush to the get ready. So much for radiancy. I gadly sacrifice my looks this once, I was hungry for company as much as I was for brunch. Pleasantries are exchanged. Honest ones, at least from my part. "I haven't seen you in so long," there is so much catch up to do. She is married now. I wasn't invited to the wedding. I suppose one can be too visible. To a local restaurant we go (support small businesses). We sit and order coffee. My reccord is seven cups, we're not there yet. It is always a pleasure to talk with someone who thinks just like me - but in her own way. Numbers can perhaps illustrate it better: We both agree that the answer is 4, 2+2 is her way, 2+(0.25x2^3) is my way. Overthink. We haven't looked at the menus yet and we've been sitting for a while, I bet the waitress was getting annoyed. "Okay, enough. Let me think about what I want," my sister laughs. Gyros Omelette for me (sounds strange but it is better than you'd think). Ah, the dance of flipping the menu back and forth for vegetarian options. The rate of picky eaters I am surrounded by is by far larger than the population's average. It doesn't bother me anymore. Chatter in between bites. Work, relationships, friends, "what happened to your hair!?" Religion debates go well with hashbrowns, I usually take ketchup but the substitute is surpricingly engaging. The family cannot talk about religion without bringing my mother in the conversation. Observation I would later make with my girlfriend on the phone. "She wonders how you are," my sister informs me. Unecessarily, I would say. "I heard from our aunt that she posted a pic of me on Facebook, you know, the old me." I say. "With the caption 'I miss you'" NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO FUCK NO FUCK NO OH FUUUUCCKK NO YOU DON'T GET TO MISS ME She misses the old me, the kid we killed together. I'll allow it. Look at how much power she has on me. All my anger... "I have a very carefree attitute about the world, I just don't give a fuck anymore. It's like my mind doesn't allow me to hate anything else because all my hate is concentrated in one place!" Grip my hands together. Tight. Tighter. It hurts. I cannot forget. We spoke about a wedding. "Are you gonna eat those pancakes?" sparked a conversation that lasted longer than whatever words were spoken about mother. Yet, that is all I took home with me. -"What? Already?" -"Yeah, I'm full" -"You barely ate" -"Ha. I guess I got full from words" -"Hmph. True" I kept her untill she absolutely couldn't afford another minute not on her way. It made no difference. No amount of conversation can saturate the gash that talking about my mother does to me. The feeling of having business unresolved was drowning me. Clear my mind. Just enough. The grand opening is today. I've been awating this night for a month. Now we shine. It is the fucking day of visibility. Today I got the best excuse I could think of. Eyeliner. Hair spray. New outfit. More eyeliner. Make sure the jewelry matches. Grab the new purse. Can I freaking get the eyeliner right? I am out of practice. I am also out of practice at Marvel Super Heroes VS Street Fighter. The grand opening to the new arcade has brought some unexpected surprices. Enough to make me focus on something else. We do battle with buttons for the moment. The place is booming with people, suddenly, I don't feel like being visible anymore. MSHvsSF is an old game, I hadn't touch it in years. Back to the basics, which I learned by watching my older brother play. Basics keep me afloat, and thankfully we leave before Asians wearing latex gloves and facemasks demolish me and rob me of my good mood. Now home, I speak with my roomate. "I saw you with your sister earlier," she says. -"Yeah, we went out for lunch and catch up" -"How is everything?" -"All good, you know, just remenicing... Although..." I let it out. I need to talk about it. My roomate suggests I write a letter. Funny how that keeps coming around. I first heard it from my girlfriend, then from my friends, then from stranges online. I get it. I'll write the fucking thing. Upstairs. The light in the room is not adecuate for writing. Neither is my pencil. I don't know how to start. "Hi mom." The words flow The page turns The pencil needs to be sharpened Again Again I am happy. My eyes are watery but no tears flow. I've done enough crying, perhaps my body decided that the allowance of sobs for this tragedy have been exahusted. I am not satisfied with the job. The words are lousy [as they always are], I hold back on my emotions, I do not make the best case for myself. Included are the words, spoken- written from me. "I live as a woman now." There. Made myself visible, exactly in the way it trully mattered. Where last year the date largely passed over my head, this time around it had a cathartic effect on me. I include my phone number and a picture of me. "I'm here if you want to talk." Place the whole thing into an envelope. Barely fits in. It is a very heavy letter. Change my clothes. I have decided to deliver the letter personally and I don't want to shock her any more than I have to. Cover my face with a scarf. Cover my hair with a hat. Oversized hoodie and saggy jeans. Invisible. On my way to where she lives. The closer I get, the harder my heart beats. Phone rings, and for the second time in the day it is exactly what I needed. -"Hi baby" -"Hi my love" shiver -"Are you okay?" -"I'm okay" -"You don't sound okay" -"I'm okay, I'm just outside walking" -"Why are you outside?" -"Because I got business to take care of" Relieved my girlfriend is on the phone. Clearly not ready to take this on on my own. I reach her place. So close and yet so far. Stand infrot of her door. Knock. Silence. Knock. Silence. "That's that." The letter slides easily under the door. The contents of the letter won't be here. Not because they are personal, but because my mind has decided to black out on most of what I wrote. Despite talking over the phone with my girlfriend when its content was fresh in my memory, a rough night of sleep has ruined my memory of it. Perhaps one of the mechanisms of my psyche protecting me, because precedent dictates that this ordeal will not end well for me. My attitute remains. I am glad I did it. For too long anger and scorn have been lord of my emotions. Today I finally defeat them. I am invinsible. "I miss you too."

[wintercherry]

Mark II

October 9th -It's my two year anniversary today -Why does it sound like you don’t care? -... I don't know... My girlfriend cares more about me than myself. Mark two for Aisel on the board, goddamn! It feels good. Year two has brought about many new experiences for sure but as far as transition goes, hmph, well, it's been more of the same. They say no news is good news, right? Transition is something I hardly ever think about anymore. I am happy with myself, my life, my relationship, etc. so I feel like I can finally concentrate on other existential crises, like, speaking of marks, what will my mark in the world be after my passing -Woah, kid, geezuz. Chill. At any rate, yes, transition is pretty much... obtained (except for maybe some medical procedures. More on that later). I do have an anecdote I'd like to share. About a month ago, a relative from the homeland came to visit. This chick hadn’t seen me in over a decade, of course I looked much different then so I was a bit anxious on what her reaction to the new me would be. She made her way to my room while snooping around and she said "Eres muy organizada," which means 'you are very organized' however it is in the female form, meaning that even without me saying anything she just respected my gender. "Thank you for that 'a'" I said, "nobody in the family does it." "Well, I do" she replied. With that I felt more encouraged to face the rest of the family. I have been to two family gatherings since and again without the need to speak up they refer to me as a female (while calling me my old given name haha). The way I figure, what is visible is not questioned. Success. *Sigh* I remember you asking god for only one year as a chick, only one year and then he could punish you all he wanted. Here's two, what now?

[wintercherry]

The curse of thought

The terrible outcomes of arguing with yourself There are changes coming into my life that drastically change the way I will live it. This time it has nothing to do with finding oneself but finding another. That very special someone whom you can't seem to stop thinking about. That someone who's wellbeing becomes a greater source of worry than your own. That someone whom you can see yourself spending the rest of your days with and it still won't be enough. Love. I have found love and now that love is steering me towards a new and exciting course, the living together stage. I find myself writting about this because of my neverending inner conflict. Daydreaming about the time we finally get to come home to each other has always been a beautiful warm thought that helps me sleep at night when she's away, but now the terrifying reality has arisen, the choice is here: move in or step out. Move in, away from everything and everyone you know. Take the leap of faith. Let her go, end it now and endure the intial pain and in time you'll find someone else. Never finding someone like her. Go with her, live a life of misery as you see your relationship decay and then be abandoned to your luck to a start from scratch. Haver resentment towards her. Let her go, unable to bear the pain die slowly as the demons of sorrow tear at your soul and the parasites of uncertanty eat your mind away. Never being able to forget her. Go with her, awaken the full extent of bliss and live at her side the best years of your life with the fresh start you both desperately want. Love her forever. This self debate is nonsensical. For a while now I've been the proud possesor of a jar with a label reading "Engagement ring jar" which I fill in with change whenever I can. I also take enourmous pride in the belief that I am her knight and that I am able to fight any battle, against anyone, even myself if it means that I get to be blessed by her smile. At times I've raged and cried frustrated tears of impotence while I watch the scorn of the world defile her kind heart. "I will protect you!" Where are those words now? How do you expect to fight as you coward away from this step? It is not that I love her any less than I did then, it is that the weight of reality is always heavier than we expect, and I have the habit of underestimating my challenges. What could be the cause then? Argument 1 - Love No. Simply, no. I love her to the end of the earth, ready to lay my own life if it means she doesn't have to sacrifice hers. She loves me in an equal manner, I have no doubts of that, I am sure that both of us would give our relationship everything it needs to stay healty. Argument 2 - Friends Ah, them. I have friends, yes, but without a pang of regret I don't hesitate to call them inconsecuential. I am one to give it all for mine. I behave myself accoridng to my own brand of self described code of honor that I don't expect anyone to understand, and while I do not expect this in return from others I do expect better than what I have been treated in the past. It is acceptable to look out for one's well-being but not at the expense of others, I have been wronged enough times to lose faith in them. While I will admit that I am going to miss them but I am willing to burn the bridges if necesary, not because she's asking me to but - - [] Argument 3 - Freedom I am having trouble explaining this one. It is not that I feel tied down, it's not; it isn't her specifically as a person, it could be anyone. I have strived to be my own self for far too long, I've fought long and hard for the things I have and the things I still want, part of me feels a little betrayed at the thought of dropping our progress and becoming part of a whole at the expense of abandoning my cherished solitude. I love loneliness, will I ever get to experience it again? I still don't fully undestand what it is to never be alone, perhaps it is better than the opposite. If I have to find out I am glad it is with her.

I am always of two minds... hug me, my love. Let me feel safe with your touch

[wintercherry]

Find a new love

The following describes my current feelings. Why? I don't know... I don't know. I all know is that I've felt this way for a while now... so hazy. You must find a new love that doesn't hide his problems that is not like me at dinner time that when he's dying with jealousy he never says anything that doesn't have like me so many wounds in the soul You must find a new love that is a true gentleman that has a profession without money problems friend of your friends sympathizes with your parents and that never speaks too much that can't hurt you But life you know me from forever and now I have to say I always say what I feel That you will never find with whom to look at the stars someone that can bring one down for you with a kiss someone that can make you feel like touching the sky with your hands someone that makes you fly like me you won't find him That you will never find someone that trully loves you someone that makes you cry from so much love someone with whom to talk like crazies holding hands someone that makes you vibrate like me you won't find him You must find a new love that remembers dates that is not like me that always keeps his promises someone that can love you some and a certain part that is not like me that I live only to love you But life you know me from forever and now I have to say I always say what I feel That you will never find with whom to look at the stars someone that can bring one down for you with a kiss someone that can make you feel like touching the sky with your hands someone that makes you fly like me you won't find him That you will never find someone that trully loves you someone that makes you cry from so much love someone with whom to talk like crazies holding hands someone that makes you vibrate like me you won't find him You must find a new love that doesn't hide his problems that is not like me at dinner time that when he's dying with jealousy he never says anything that doesn't have like me so many wounds in the soul (Tranzas - "Debes buscarte un nuevo amor")

[wintercherry]

This time I'm gonna say it. I didn't hide as much I chose to not be seen. It wasn't shame, it was fear. Fear that they will remember me in a stage of imperfection, fear that they would assume my earlier stages were the final product. Because even in when I thought I looked the best I could they could still see my ugliness. It is different now. My hair is vibrant purple, I want people to notice me, I want to be able to feel withing myself that last laugh. Because I have overcome so much, I have fought for so long and now I am for their eyes. I wasn't ready for the world... I am now. Eager. Hungry. Ready to be made their legend

[wintercherry]

Throwing Ideas #2

So despite all the time I spend looking at news and politics I usually keep my views to myself or my circle of people close to me, but this time I'm going to speak a bit more off the cuff, fully aware that this site is the posterchild of the now infamous SJW movement, should this bite me in the ass... so be it, I am frustrated and this is where I come to vent so just hear me out if you will. Currently in the news there's this fallout over a meme a guy named Curt Schilling decided to share on his Facebook. This man has been known to have some pretty twisted views that I am not going to address here but I do have to speak out about the trans issue. I have grown to develop a thick skin when it comes to people taking shots at me for being a transgender woman, however the meme this man shared did rub me in a particularly irritating way. I hate the image but if you wish to see it google is your friend. ESPN, this man's employer, decided to fire him following the controversy. Again, this is not of my concern, a private company can deal with its employees however they see fit. What I do care about is the underlying message here: do people really see us transgender women like that? It's really frustrating. I have been through a lot to be where I am today, to finally be happy in my own body, to show people that they don't have to be afraid of me, I am not a sin, I am not sick, and I am not a deviant. I am just another chick, a human. And yet we have laws passed in states like North Carolina that seem believe that being a transwoman somehow equates being someone like that meme seems to imply. It really infuriates me to think that despite all the work that has gone into trying to educate others and to quite literally having to transform my body a good amount of people still believe that a man in a wig and I are somehow the same. Maybe it sounds like I'm speaking from a high horse but like I've said I've been through a lot to be seen in this way. And not even just myself. All of us have to sacrifice something, our friends, our families, jobs, safety, etc. I've heard so often "don't care what society says about you," usually I don't, but I can't help it when I know somewhere out there we're still being discriminated against. Ignoring a problem doesn't make it go away. So yes, I am not going to keep quiet. I am going to keep showing society that a trans woman is just like anyone else, some of us are wildly successful, some of us lead quiet lives, some of us are wild and flamboyant, just like any other group of people. -- We all know this already, but I really want to talk about the other side of the problem. I do not know exactly what defines a transwoman. I have had the chance to meet several other transwomen, either online or in person, and I can say that we're all different, there is no standard and due to subjectivity we might never reach an agreement, but I think we can all agree that we're not men with purses and heels calling themselves women. I am calling for some sort of separating between us and them. This is controversial in of itself, but I am really frustrated with the ignorance of people. Perhaps we can help them understand us better if somehow we find a way to differentiate ourselves from them. I know it sounds like I'm advocating for division in the community... Fuck yeah I am. Honestly, I am tired of a dude wearing panties and lipstick calling himself a transwoman. I also know that as individuals many of us hate labels. A lot of us don't even want to be referred to as transgender, but it's time to reclaim what we have fought so hard to achieve, to let the world know what a transgender woman really is, that a crossdressing male (while in his full right to do so) is not the same as us. Yes, there is a difference and as soon as the majority of people realize this the less all of society is going to suffer. The idiot conservatives can go back to being afraid of whatever TV tells them to, and we can go back to our day to day which includes fucking taking a piss in the bathroom we feel appropriate. All I am asking in the end is common sense. A person like the one in said meme is not a transwoman, people like that have to stop calling themselves such, if you want to call yourself a "gurl" or a "sissy" keep it to the bedroom and stop giving us a bad name that only helps lawmakers in backward states like Mississippi discriminate against us. I have tried to educate people as much as I could but other than going door to door asking people if they know what a transwoman is, I am of the belief that living a normal life is what eventually will show people that we're not freaks, just another one of the bunch. I am guilty of doing something that I hate having done to myself: telling people how to live. Although I know I'm likely to be criticized and attacked due to my comments I really think it's time someone put to words what many of us are thinking. I am tired of seeing others suffering because of this. I might be wrong... I am really tired of this situation though, I hope people can see where I am coming from.

[wintercherry]

Armored Trucks for Flowers

Are we born with the inherited knowledge of knowing how to love? I can't dispute the, mostly, well-earned bond between mother and child, but how do we extend such a bond to another being? Is it something small, some spark that with the couple's nurture grows into a fire? More like a supernova in my case. It burns me, this love burns me. I feel like king Midas, everything should be filled with the bright of gold but instead I end up feeling the coldness of metal. The tidal wave of feelings that drowns me every time I see her which I find incomprehensible, it drives me to bite my nails from inadequacy because of this newly found bond never previously experienced. It is not enough to turn a blind eye to my shortcomings, because seeing her angelic splendor being tainted by the wrong-doings of others, including my own, working as a mirror to reflect such flaws in my persona. What is a child to do? Clang your fists, garnish your teeth, that will surely suffice. My free spirit cries at the thought of being tied up to someone. For years I literally trained myself to survive on my own, I never knew the day would come when I could finally count on another but I am so hurt, I've been so hurt, sometimes a spec of dirt finds it's way into my old wounds and I begin to doubt, I am opening what is left of my heart, what if I lose again? The stakes are too high. At times I cast away such feelings just by looking at her smile and at others I accept my inevitable end and brace for the fall. What can you do about distance? You're getting tired, ain'tcha? Other than impossible feats of physics what else occupies your thoughts? I have never been serious about anything, heck, not even my transition I take seriously at times, and now that I have built a castle of memories with this woman I don't know how to protect it. The scariest thought is perhaps the possibility of my own willing contribution to the downfall. I am not human. I don't know myself at times. I don't want to turn to my own nature for guidance. I will lay on your meadows instead, send breeze carrying your scent towards my face. I cannot deny I feel something inside me when I see her smile, I want to see her smile all the time. Is there anyone truly made for me or am I just deluding myself, and in turn, her. I don't know how to be happy, what will I do with the love she gives me? I still believe like I don't deserve it... I will protect it. My angel, I will protect you.

[wintercherry]

Ch. 24

Time to wrap another year of growth, for the first time I feel like I hit a growth spur althought not really in height more as in spirit. Yeah yeah, I'm going to get sentimental on this one too. Where was I a year ago? I don't think I remember presicely the spot but my hormone therapy had already started. Both my living situation and livehood were much worse than they're now and often I would second guess every decision I made. I was a cynic with the hopeful heart of a child. I still am. However, in every possisble scenario that my imsoniac brain could come up with I definitely did not account for the turn of events life had for me. Ahoy! All the things I did! How about owning a car again? Which had to end up being sold but not missed. Thanks to that I picked up the awesome hobby of biking. During those summer thunderstorms to ride around the block at midnight and speed down heel with my arms raised and the wind caresing my face and playing with my hair. That feeling of complete freedom in the silence of the night broken only by the crash of lighting. How about starting a new job? Technically I had this job before ch.24 but it was during it's pages that I went full time, yep in both senses of the word. Any job is nothing to take for granted but this one is particularly dear to me as it was here where I began working as a female, and although being misgendered at first hurt more than I thought it would, I kept on going until the butterly emerged from it's cocoon... more like a moth. Going back to being a materialistic whore but, how about all the techy gysmos I own? I know, I shouldn't really care about things like that but for someone with the disadvantages and humble beginings that were part of my upbriging the fact of owning a personal computer and other things of that sort become testaments of our hard work. How about discovering myself? I wish I could write about a grand tale of visiting the Tibet and meditating for days and nights to find my true self. Instead I have a bunch of emails with strangers than ended up becoming meeting people in person. Some of those were sour, some were sweet, one was glorious. Reconecting with friends and also losing some others, I do not regret any action I've taken, I've grown as a person and I've found the sort of things I am capable of at the dance of my soul interacting with others. Talk to us about pain. It was there alright. I shed more tears during the writing of this chapter than ever before. Perhaps it was all the bottled up emotions I had been collecting through the years, maybe it was the hormones, or maybe I'm actually more fragile than I care to admit. No matter, I would still not change the cleansing of my soul, the watering of the seeds of maturity. And what about the thirst for adventure? Unlike medieval times my horse is replaced for a car, my esquire for my friends, and my sword for a pocket knife at best (and where I'm allowed to take it), but I have gone out of my bubble and explored many things my city, state, and even country. Exposing myself to the warmth of the sun and letting my skin retake it's bronze color that had been replaced by the paleness of social anxiety and reclussion. Healing, was there any of it? In some ways there was. I was able to fully restore my relationship with my sister, the only person of my family that even though didn't understand me, always wanted only to see me happy. My roomates, my ex's, etc. I'm happy to say that I buried more hatchets than grabbed pitchforks. The best is reserved for last: Love. The final victory over loneliness, the final strike against dispair. Nothing in this chapter is as important to the rest of the story of my life than the time I picked that flower. My sweet princess that came to drastically change my outlook towards everything. I want to suffer it all with her, I want to fight it all for her, and I want to conquer it all in her name. I am deeply in love for her. She illuminates the road ahead, she gives me the flame I needed. And all of the things that are not coming to mind! After all, it was a whole 365 pages of not getting older but growing up. Chapter 25 rolls in with a huge twist in the arc of my life. My brother, who I thought hated me, called to wish me a happy birthday. "My best friend and worst rival" I'm exited to see where this will go. To see where the river of destiny swivels my raft before letting my drift into the horizons. Another aniversary for us too, a whole 12years now. Explosion!

[wintercherry]

Per L'Eternita

Standing at the door, the girl at the hallway cannot bring herself to knock. She extends her arm and makes a fist but can’t make her knuckles touch the wooden surface. She has to take a step back, she takes a deep breath, and another, and one more- they don’t seem to be helping. Her legs feel weak and her trembling has not stopped since she set foot on the hotel lobby. Out of her coat pocket she pulls out her good luck charm and gives it a small kiss, just small enough not to ruin her lip gloss. “Forward,” she reminds herself but pretends her charm said it. She knocks, she waits- the door opens…

I finally met the love of my life. I know I know, people throw the term around so carelessly it almost has no meaning but to me the sole idea of being in love is still such a foreing concept, much more so to experience the feeling of finding someone whom I am not afraid to be in the company of for the rest of my life, actually more so look forward to it. It took us some planning since we don’t really live close to each other, and I will admit that I pushed her towards it a lot more than I should have, but what can I say, my adventurer spirit and my need to be close to her once and for all got the better of me.

My princess is even more amazing in person than she is online, as if that is even possible. I don’t even know where to start, is it her kick ass personality, her entretaining humor, her inspiring intellect, her pretty pretty face with that cute shy smile, or maybe her crazy hot body? All of it has me at her feet or thinking about her day in and day out and even in my dreams I see her and she’s ounce by ounce just as magnificent.

She grabs her hand and leards her lover to sit on the hotel bed facing out the window they sit next to each other and watch the snow fall and beging to cover the concrete and brick in white. They look at each other’s eyes and smile. She feels a way she has never before, so excited and again so at peace. The moment seems like out of a romantic novel. She wants to throw herself at her lover’s embrace but holds back, instead she asks her to close her eyes. With her lover’s eyes closed she licks her own lips a little and then plants a sweet and tender kiss.

From the moment I came in her room to the moment we walked out of there together, every single second I experienced with her I would not change. Everything we did or went through served as heat to weld our lives even closer. I had a few things planned but in my typical fashion I ended up having to improvise, which I’m not particularly good at, but with her nothing felt random or mediocre, she brightens everywhere I see. From the cheesy Italian restaurant to holding hands and having people stare at us at the super market, and even fulfilling my fantasy of having her in my room, every little memory was the most precious thing I could ever imagine. Then, to finally go to sleep togher… we would slide under the sheets and I would feel her skin against mine, I would let my body warm hers and hug her tightly agains my chest. I would give her long kiss and then kiss her all around her face, her cheeks, her cheekbones, her temples, her forehead. I would feel her exhale in my neck and I would not resist the temptation to run my hands down the soft skin of her waist and hips. While everyone else slept we stayed up.

They plan to go out but first they have to fight the weight of the sheets and the desire to not move from each others arms. When they finally get out of bed and dress up they split the mirror where each does their hair and make up. For two seconds she forgets that she’s living in a dream that inevitably has to end, she feels like they live together, like waking up and getting ready is such as rutinary thing, she loves the moment and walks to her lover huging her from behing and kissing her back. Her princess smiles and grabs her hand.

Perfection is another concept I have difficulty getting through my thick head. On the one hand I strive for everything to go according to plan but on the other I love the thrilling infuse of unexpectedness improvising adds to the recipe. I do not hesitate to grant my girl- my girlfriend (yay!)- that title, but it is something I do not wish for myself, and very rarely to the getaways that I plan. As such, I am incedibly satisfied and without a pinch of shame say that our time together wasn't perfect, but trust me, I now have this hunger to keep and keep trying, to go forward and keep improving, to keep giving her more and more moments that she won't forget.

Sitting in her car waiting for the ice in the windshield to thaw out she is filled with the grief of departure, she has to let her princess go. She tries to hold back her tears but she fails miserably at it, she cries and can hardly stop. Her flower has to assume the role of the strong one and reminds her to look at this as a “work trip” and that they will see each other soon. That ice is melting faster than she would want their time is almost up; she holds her lover’s face and gives her another long kiss. They drive to then end of the driveway where they say their final farwell words and reasure their love for each other. Her lover drives away and then turns a corner until she cannot see her anymore. She has a knod on her throat, she reaches into her coat pocket but her charm is not there. She sprints back home undresses and gets in bed which has lost all of her warmth. She feels alone as a single tear runs down her eye and comes to be absorbed by the pillowcase and she thinks to herself “I would do this again, no doubt.”

Thank you for your love, my sweet flower princess. Here’s to the first weekend of the rest of our lives.

[wintercherry]

Dawn of the Final Day

Disregard everything I wrote yesterday. I am a mess of nervousness. I can't sit on a single spot for longer than a second, my palms are sweating, knees weak, arms are heavy... spaguetti and the rest, you get the point. Time is going by painfully slow and I'm tired of pacing and this zig zag of activities that do not seem to manage to keep me distracted for longer than a minute. My heart is pumping loudly and it's only gonna get worst - oh no- I just remembered that I tend to studder when I'm nervous... she's gonna think I'm retarded... I love you Jazmine! I have to scream it to depressurize my chest. It also doesn't help that everytime I check my phone for the time her beautiful portrait is there to greet me, get out of my head! Or don't *insert emoji here* Can't wait.

[wintercherry]

Calm Before the (Raising) Storm

One day away from meeting the love of my life -oh here she goes jumping into things without putting any real thought behind them- incorrect, my dear reader, not this time. Sometimes you just know this adventure is going to be great because the build up to it has been incredibly magical already than the inevitable moment when your lips touch those of your lover feels like the most natural progression in the relationship. That is what I want to talk about that inexplicable sensation when the flame of love stops raging but instead burns steadily and covers you in it's warmth. That sensation of peace when you look at her eyes that you didn't even know existed, where all your inner demon s come to die and you can finally let a sigh of relief. As of this moment I haven't met her yet and despite that I feel like I know her well enough and at the same time there's so much more that I want to find out. There was a moment in my life where that idea would make me shake of exitement and insite me to create scenarios where I could steal a kiss from her. It's different now, now there's no storm raising in my chest, I have learned to tame my wild heart. Many would interpret this as the signs of dying passion, but trust me, that is not the case. Before, I yearned to grab my share of life by the handful, I never really cared for anything other than my satisfaction or my gain, I created a flame and wanted it to blaze as bright as it could and char everything around it... more like a match burning out, really. With her, my sweet flower girl, the frailty of relationships disappears, I can finally see what it means to have have a strong connetion with another soul. When I'm finally minutes before seeing her face to face for the first time, the inevitable axiety will creep up on me but will be kept at bay by said flame. When I finally have her in my arms I will let the wilderness in my life run rampant, I will flood my quarters with joy and I will arm my hands with courage to make her happy and to fight for never letting her go. I don't know how this is going to go (ha! who am I kidding, it's going to rock!) but I want to thank you for walking into my life. I love you.

[wintercherry]

Underneath the Table

Underneath the table I cares your knee and drink sip by sip your angelic stare and I breath from your mouth that marvelous flower the larks of desire they sing, fly, come, go And I'm dying to take you to the corner of my lair where I keep a kiss hidden with a tint of illusion our drinks are running out without knowing what to do should I contain my insticts or should I never let you go Because you don't know what you make me feel if you could for a minute be in me perhaps you would melt in the furnace of my blood and would live in me and I holding to you Because you don't know what you make me feel that there is no moment I can be without you you absorb my space slowly make me yours the pride in me dies because I can't be without you (Luis Miguel - "Por Debajo de la Mesa")