May 17, 2018
HAHAHAAHHAHA EVEN IN SOOMPI, THE TRUTH RINGS 😂 😂 😂 (x)
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HAHAHAAHHAHA EVEN IN SOOMPI, THE TRUTH RINGS 😂 😂 😂 (x)
Just finished watching The Accountant. Apparently Anna Kendrick likes to play strong women with a thing for assassins. (Beca + Lily? LOL)
To my Future beloved oh how I feel lost if I can't hold you I count the days as I look for you and when I been alone I cry for mister right .....
“Vera, if a girl doesn’t get dates, how’s she ever going to find somebody to marry?” Vera: “It so happens I don’t intend to pick a husband from the penniless nincompoops who drift in here...Enough money to take care of me in the style I deserve will be one of the qualifications of the man I marry but he will also have to be attractive and civilized!” (Love Confessions 3, 1950). Jeez, Vera, penniless nincompoops deserve love too!
THE PERFECT DATE.
You ever daydream about your perfect date?
The other day, I daydreamed about mine.
Me and ..let’s call him Guy, because he’s unknown to me.
Well, Guy takes me to a fancy restaurant for a nice romantic dinner. You know, the kind with matre D’s (however that’s spelled), three different kinds of forks, and tiny portions of food that are supposed to fill you, but you’re not sure if the snail shell you’re trying to crack with the wrong fork is the actual meal or the appetizer.
Elegant music lofts through the high windows from a string quartet. I’m uncomfortable in my high heels and red dress - because that’s what I’m expected to wear on a date, even though I look terrible in red. The crickets chirp as we dine al fresco, and I, doing my best to remember etiquette lessons from my childhood, fidget like I’m not supposed to.
Guy is handsome, and seems to know what he’s doing. He looks comfortable, and I feel like a ham faking it. He’s patient with me and seems amused by me.
Anyway, in my struggles to open said snail, this happens:
Guy: “Do you, uh, need a hand.”
Me: “No, I got this. Just gotta...” And pieewm! The shell goes rocketing across the courtyard into the soup on the neighboring table. I cringe. “Sorry.”
Guy: “Yeah, I don’t like escargot either. It’s just a slug with--”
Me finishing the sentence: “--with a mobile home.”
We pause and chuckle.
Guy: “Yeah.”
Me: Sighing, “I know other girls want the fancy dinner and the champagne and the lighting.. and it really is romantic. It’s beautiful...”
Guy just looks at me, waiting for me to find the right words.
Me: “But, between you and me, I just want some fries. In this place, you probably only get four fries, and it costs a hundred dollars.”
Guy pauses for a moment, puts down his champagne glass, and says, “You know what? I know this great little place.” He stands and holds out his hand for me to take it. “Come on.”
Curious, but on edge and ready to stab him with my keys if he tries anything, I take his hand.
He leads me to his nice car brought around by the valet, we get in, and he drives off.
Some time later, we’re both chillin’ on a park bench over looking a pond glittering with moonlight. Our shoes are off, and we’re both sitting cross-legged on the bench digging into a bag of fries and nuggets from McDonalds.
We’re both much more relaxed and happy. And full. And my feet don’t hurt. I look at him under the lamplight, smile, and say, “Better.”
He smiles back, says “I was hoping you’d say that. Think fast,” steals a fry from my pile, and munches.
I smack him in the shoulder playfully for the theft, and he just laughs. We enjoy our romantic dinner just being our goofball selves.
That is my perfect date.
And that’s how I knew he was my Mister Right.
And you enjoy being a wife when you met the right man.
“That is true~ I found the right person, and I do enjoy being his wife~”
Mister Right
I'm gone. I'm so gone. I don't want you to look at me. I want to lean up against the wall until my body pushes into the sheetrock and the wall envelopes me completely. I will simply fade into a shadow and then nothing at all. I will be gone but you won't notice. You won't be sad. You won't feel guilty or place the blame on me. You'll just keep moving around in the spaces of your life. Your office, the kitchen, this room. Our room. This bed. So many gut punches and tears in this bed. So many questions and no answers. My life has been one long yearning. A longing that has never been satisfied. That's not true, is it? That's not fair. It was good. It was amazing. It was unimaginably satisfying. All I ever wanted. But then. Then... I'm not sure where it went off the tracks. I had your baby, I handed her to you and you looked down at her and with tears in your eyes and a smile, you turned and walked away from me. I told myself this is what I wanted. I wanted to give you a child that you would love more than anything. I didn't think that I was included in that word, "anything" you deserve everything in the world, every happiness, every good thing. But I'm left with the question, what do I deserve? Do I deserve to feel like an empty shell of myself, waiting to be wanted? Waiting to be wanted. It might kill me. Or worse, it will change me irreparably. It will warp my self worth, it will twist my confidence until I start seeking space. Space away from the things that make me feel like I want to disappear. You. Space away from you. That scares me more than anything. You used to be my escape. Your arms were my shelter. Your kiss was my medicine. Now I want poison in my veins, and a stranger's hands on me.
-hideyouinmypoetry