Offensive Christmas Crap- 100 word flash

I just wasn't feeling the Christmas spirit, so I tried to amend that. Watching you turn blue, choking on your own severed cock, I can't help but feel I went wrong somewhere. Your struggles, the changing hue of your face, all very festive. Merry even. I know your eventual pallor will remind me of fallen snow. I drink the smoothie I made from our unborn child. The tender hollow that is my stomach helps me think. Bored of your thrashing my eyes shift to our tree. Then, it hits me. I put way too much tinsel on.

Scared Shitless, Will Travel.

At work, I lock myself in the bathroom. Again. My chest is tight as a vice as I struggle to breathe. It's only a panic attack but it feels like I'm dying, like my heart will stop. In that moment, part of me wants it to. Just so the fear will end. I slump to the floor and feel it all let go. I begin to shake and sob. Tears stream down my face. I fight the feeling of sick self loathing as the fear wells up to the forefront inside me. One question echos in my mind. Why aren't I excited? This, my reaction to being asked if "I'm counting down the days." until my vacation. Why am I so scared? I've saved and sacrificed over a year for this trip. I always thought I'd be over the moon with happiness. Now that it's near, I'm terrified and afraid I will fail. What's wrong with me?

My mind is like a hurricane right now, all chaos and blowing. I sit helpless watching Jim's trailer tumble end over end down the war torn streets of my mind. I have reasons to be afraid. I am doing a lot of very new things all at once. I am traveling alone with no idea how that works. I keep wishing some sort of step by step travel agenda will simply fall in my lap. All the steps mapped out from printing out forms, to bring this, stand here etc neatly listed for me. I like to know what to expect and what is expected of me. Instead, I only have a vague idea that I go to the airport with my confirmation code and somehow travel happens. I worry about what can I bring? How it all works. I wish it were all clear. The unknown frightens me deeply. I'm going to a big city with all the noise, buildings and things that make my heart race just thinking of it. It's possible after 10-11 years of no intimate touch that's going to change very quickly and I'm very confused as to how I feel about that, or if I even want that to happen. I will be separated from my routine and my dog. Two very difficult things to separate an Aspie from. I think about sitting in my hotel room and I wonder what will I do? Will I be brave enough to step outside? Or will I sit inside and be afraid? I think about this and my chest gets tight. I ask myself why am I doing this? Sometimes, I find the answer and the winds settle for a moment. My inner world is peaceful as I think back to when I was a little girl.

I can remember the feeling of the sun coming through the glass even still. It was one of my favorite feelings, like a warm puppy hug. The home I grew up in had a very large window that spanned the front of the house. I would sneak under the heavy drapes and watch the world that lay beyond. It was filled with life. Children played, cars passed, and adults tended their lawns. This was my dreaming spot as a child. The thin pane of glass seemed so much thicker trapped in my families fortress. I wasn't allowed to be in that world. I wasn't even supposed to be seen. I was taught what lay beyond that pane was all the devils making, that the people out there would hurt me in ways my grandmother seemed to relish describing to me. It all seemed so harmless sitting there. I couldn't believe it. I wanted to know what was out there. I would dream of traveling and of having a friend. I wanted that most of all. I had such a clear picture of that in my mind of someone running up to me, locking their arms around me, lifting me and giving me the biggest of bear hugs. They would sit me down, kiss me on top of my head and tell me they were so happy to see me. I would see it in their eyes, the joy, how they cared for me, that they meant the wonderful things they said to me in my daydream. It was a look I had never seen in my families eyes, but I could see it so vividly in my mind. It made me happy to think of it. I decided that was what having a friend would look like. I dreamed in the warm sunlight until my grandmother would catch me, and drag me out by my hair crying.

I never imagined I could actually have this dream. I've always held it gently, hoping but never thinking it could happen. Not to me, anyways. Somewhere in the midst of chasing another dream I found it. I have a person in my life that is my greatest champion, that never judges me, and that only builds me up. He is my family, my rock, a gift from the universe to make up for all the shit I had to put up with before finding him. I hand him the jumbled pieces of a world that makes no sense and he locks the pieces together and explains how it all works. He is the reason I don't run. Yes, I'm fucking terrified but I'm doing this anyways. Oh god, I want to run.

My mind urges me to quit. It whispers every mean thing it can think of. Brings up every bad experience and reminds me of times I've met online friends only to have them fall out of my life immediately after. My heart falls at these memories. The awkwardness and the stark disappointment written across their features as they met the pale shadow of who I was online. I think about how my clothes don't fit, my shoes are held together by glue, how my hair is a little uneven because I cut it myself and the gap between my front teeth. I wonder if he'll still like me? Will he even show up or will I be waiting in my hotel room for 3 days hoping? He's very busy. I could see it happening. Not out of meanness, but only because he has so much on his plate. I've barely heard much from him in the last month and I miss him. At the same time I'm happy for him because he is off doing things I can only imagine. It's a very weird feeling to be going so far and through so much and missing the person you are going to see. Even though I understand why he's not here and know I still have a friend, that he hasn't disappeared.... Part of me whispers that I've lost my friend because he's not here to hold my hand through this, like I want him to. It's what fear wants me to think, it's selfish and I know it's only because I am so afraid. I'm scared I might lose the closest thing to family I have. I would lose my person to lean on and to squeee to when things are good. I'd have to go back to holding everything inside with no one to talk to. I'd almost rather not take the gamble. I almost would rather continue to dream of that bear hug. To dream of having someone to do things with, rather than have my day in the sun. The dream gives me something to look forward to. I don't want things to change. I like having a friend. Finally, having a friend! I'm afraid I'll disappoint him. I'm afraid I'll fail. My fear tells me I'm failing already.

But, I know if I don't try then I never will. If I let my every neurosis hold me back then I'll never achieve anything. I would continue to only dream of travel, letting the fear of the unknown keep me at home. I'll never know what that hug feels like. I'd never know so many things. What is the point of such a life? To let fear hold me back is allowing a possibly fun, wonderful experience to slip through my fingers. My worries are not real. They are only what could be and what will be if I don't try. So, yes, I'm scared shitless. My chest hurts. My hands are shaking already. I'm losing sleep and often bursting into tears. I feel lost, alone and terrified. But, I'm going. Try to stop me.

Wyvern

"Most men would be happy. Why must you ruin perfectly good sex with this need for love?"

"I'm sorry. I want more." His voice cracked as he paused. Dejected, in a quiet voice he pleaded. "Is there anyway I can ever have that with you? I'll do anything."

Lydia's ice blue eyes regarded Nathaniel with calm reserve from her place in the window seat. She pulled his grandmothers quilt tighter around her naked body. Etched in sunlight, his heart longed for the angelic vision before him. Naked and vulnerable, Lydia could only think of him as "Tasty". He wasn't what she desired. At least, not yet.

She returned her gaze to the window. Thoughtful, she pushed a tendril of long white hair away from her youthful features. "Perhaps there is a way." A slim finger traced a line down the sun warmed glass. "Look to the fields, Nathaniel. The sun lights a path for you. Do you see it?"

Nathaniel practically lept to her side, mindless of the naked display he was giving his neighbors. His eyes narrowed as minutes ticked by. Lydia sat in patient silence watching him struggle. His heart sank as he sought to see what she described. Inklings of tears welled in his eyes. He knew his fate hung on something seemingly imperceptible. The world blurred and sharpened to a fine edge. He sucked in a breath wiping away despair. "I see it, Lydia. Oh my! It's really there!"

Lydia's mouth twitched in a faint smirk, briefly amused by his awe. "To have what you seek you must follow the path. Everything you need shall be provided as long as you remain true to it's course. If you stray I shall take it as a sign you have moved on. My life, in turn, will take a different path. Travel from morning light, until dusk. Stop only for what is absolutely necessary. Never lose the light. Accept no help. Travel on foot, until you reach the shadow of a mountain. I'll meet you there."

Nathaniel reached out to Lydia. Gratitude and longing shone in his eyes. He needed to touch her, to say goodbye, to thank her. Complacent, Lydia met his hazel eyes and shook her head. "The light is fading."

It was all she needed to say. Scrambling, Nathaniel dressed and quickly finger combed his hair. He paused in the doorway, taking her in one last time. He raced out the door smiling. His heart flooded with hope. Hope for the love of a beautiful woman, with hair, he thought of as prematurely white.

Days, then years passed. He heeded her instructions to the letter. His every need was attended. Anything he wanted, needed, craved could be found in just the right places, at just the right times. All except the one thing he ached for each night as he waited for the sun. Yet, every nourishing plate of food, each sturdy tent murmured unspoken rumors that the woman he cared for was beginning to love him. In surrender, he hoped and loved her even more. Hope spun dreams. Dreams embers fueled obsession. He shunned every temptation. Through sun dappled fields, icy riverbeds, windy desert; both he and time moved in a steady pace forgotten by the world. His hair begun to match the object of desire. A devout follower of the light, the slip of years went unnoticed. His mission and the sun were his only focus. Until one day he found himself an elderly man taking pained steps towards the shadow of a mountain.

Overwhelmed by emotion, his trembling legs gave way. Giving up now was not an option. He dug determined fingers into the cold earth and crawled to the shadows edge. Catching his breath, he rolled on his back and waited. The sight that met his eyes tugged at the unraveling thread of all his hopes.

"I've died. Haven't I?"

Lydia crouched beside him. Her hands moved in a sweeping appraisal of the old man's body. "Time has made you..." she searched for the right words as she poked his ribs a little. "Tender." she finished.

A trembling, wrinkled hand touched Lydias cheek in gentle wonder. "You haven't aged. You're the same. I've either died or I'm dreaming."

Lydia pinched him and giggled. "Tis no dream, Nathaniel."

"And now? Will you love me now" The question hung in the air before he could stop it. His need demanded her answer.

Lydia, ran her hand across the corner of her mouth catching an escaped line of drool.

"Oh yes." She stood. "I will love you in the only way I know how." Nathaniel looked at her blissful, eager, and expectant, even as her skin turned to ice blue scales. The woman he knew faded as she transformed into her true shape. He did not flinch as she changed. He simply reached out to the large winged beast that loomed over him, stretching it's wings. Sharp white claws lifted him. The larger version of her ice blue eyes swept over his dangling body. Her hot breath warmed him as he looked upon her with perfect trust. The realization that this was anything other than the culminating moment of his dreams, never had time to gestate in his thoughts. Sharp teeth separated head from neck in one merciful bite. Nathaniel's last moment had been an intensely happy one.

Lydia stretched out on her back, catching the blood of her former lover on her tongue. She drank his essence by the mouthful, until the pouring of his lifeblood slowed. Greedy, she shook the last drops out of the ragged wound like a child with a pixie stick, then bit him cleanly in two. The crunchy mouth feel of his bones and his tender flesh was something to be savored. She grinned a terrifying dragons smile finding she truly did love him. Who doesn't love a good meal?

Stream of Shattered Conciousness

I woke up this morning with these words in my head. I found them interesting. Or perhaps, this is just the downward slide into psychosis for me.

Sing to me my unic.

The parable of the raven is no more.

Comfort me. I can no longer bear to wash these useless rocks.

I shall dream in the swirls of your song.

Of when the sun used to drink the light from the earth and the earth was washed in darkness.

The holder of the unfocused eye sees no more.

Sing.

Deliriumtree vs. The Real World

No matter the online format there's always an allusion to the "real world" or "real life". I have trouble with this concise division. My waking world is one of ghosts and time unraveling in a slow thread pull. Life has never been short for me. It is long. It aches and groans and is filled with seconds that stretch an eternity. I struggle to fill time, to make it pass faster. Little projects stabilize me, and keep me from going mad.

A question posted by RemitanceGirl and later a blog found here had me thinking in depth on this subject today. An ocean exists between my online and offline personae. I am left stranded no matter which Continent I choose. I took the polls and has this comment to add:

"I had to read this post several times to really grasp what you were saying. In so doing I found myself voting choice 1-completely different. I see who I am online as being the real me, whether I’m on twitter, a flight of the conchords message board, writing email… the online me is the real genuine me. I don’t think of the “real world” me as even being me. I don’t know who or what that person is. I’m like white noise in real life. My hair hangs over my eyes, my hands are clasped tightly to my ribs, and I can go weeks without hearing my own voice even once. But, the me that you speak to is inside there. She’s thinking, dreaming and having conversations with people inside her mind (even though they don’t know it.). That person is trapped. She doesn’t know how to get out. It’s not even shyness. When I’m around other people it’s like thinking in a thick swamp. My thoughts are sludgy and slow. Climbing mount everest seems far easier than carrying on a conversation. I smile and nod a lot. I end up saying yes to opinions I don’t agree with, but I can’t think straight enough to even realize that in the moment. I’m completely mired in this swamp. My brain betrays me and my words are just gone. A blind panic fills my body as I try to answer a simple question. I scramble to find words, but they’re just gone! But, then I come online and it’s dry, flat lands and I can think and run fast in my mental landscape. I can follow the conversations being had. People become something that I can understand and not a rubix cube that I’m constantly turning to try to get all the pieces to line up. I don’t have to guess if someone is happy,sad or angry at me. <-That makes it all clear. I'm calm and suddenly I can think, that foggy barrier that's always there in the real world falls away and I'm no longer stuck inside my head."

My state of existence is neatly summarized in that paragraph. The "real world" is a realm where little is known about me. For many not even my occupation. They simply know I do something at a kennel. If I were to inquire,"What are some musical artists I like?" Many of you would quickly answer "Tori Amos" or "Flight of Conchords." The answer would be a knee jerk reaction, requiring little thought. However, my co-workers, of a full time job I've held for 2 plus years, would be left completely flummoxed. Not for a lack of interest. They did ask. In the beginning, people always attempt to get to know me. My body and mind betray me as stated above. I flood and drown in panic as I search for simple answers. A word, a verb, a noun? They've all fled. I transition into a computer program that's always buffering but never loads. The information simply can't be accessed. My answer ends up something invariably innocuous like "I like a bit of everything." This tidbit offered following the longest of pauses and followed with eye contact and a smile that I had to think about, not simply offer.

Socializing is a theatrical performance for me. I am continually directing in my mind. "Make eye contact, now smile and nod. Too much. Look down at your lap. Okay now back at him. Wait, what was he saying?" The concentration such an act requires leaves me piecing conversation together from fragments and context clues. Subtleties, nuance, the emotion of a voice are all things lost in the fray. The steady concentration required leaves no room for these things, let alone my actual self... I find myself intensely drained by the end of long stints of in person contact requiring solitude to reflect and recharge.

A trademark of Asperger's syndrome is inability to read faces well. Extremely high on the spectrum, I am no exception. I understand obvious cues, such as laughing, tears, and unmistakable anger- such someone punching a wall. Apart from the wildly dramatic I am left guessing. I tend to worry others are mad at me if I can't decipher a face. This exacerbates my taciturn nature and inclination to hide. I remain convinced that no one has ever flirted with me apart from a computer. I am open to the probability that I am merely missing cues. However, it is equally possible that simply no one flirts with someone that essentially a void.

Prior to the internet I had no connection to the outside world. I tried all the things experts suggest in vain. I went to church. I frequented coffee shops. I took classes for years, often with the same people. I manged to escape human bonding completely unscathed every time. I received every piece of puzzling advice. I remember being told "In order to a make a friend, you have to be a friend." When I inquired "How do I do that?" I never received follow up advice only silence or the reply of "Don't you know?" How would I know how to be something never experienced? I felt deeply flawed for not knowing.

At age 21 dial up internet access brought the first glimmer of friendship into my life. The pressure to stage direct and act was suddenly removed. I found myself able to think with astonishing clarity. If there was something I didn't understand, I found I had the courage to ask for clarification. Life online made sense. I was even able to make others laugh. For the first time in my life people were responding to me. They were happy to see me. I was able to learn and be learned about. There were handy emoticons to eliminate all guess work. Actions were suddenly spelled out such as *looks at you puzzled*. I found I was suddenly able to not only express myself, but I was able to run like a gazelle in my mental space. I was free. Liberated.

This glimmer had a shadow side. The online world is transient. It is seen as less real, less important, less tangible, rather than simply another format of communication. The "real world" often takes precedence in the lives of those you depend on for companionship, no matter how understandable, it can become a lonely waiting game at times. People began to enter and exit my life in a parade, often to disappear mysteriously. An account closed, a cessation in email, I turned the blame inward every time. I began to develop a tremendous fear of abandonment. Meeting an online friend in "real life", I found to be a perilous risk. Not for wild stories you read in the media. It became a matter of could I make the transition effectively? Could I be the real me, out loud? At times, I succeeded. It was easy and fulfilling when it all clicked. At other times I miserably disappointed those I met. My friend left with a feeling of "Where did you go?" The friendship would end soon after. What is liberating and confidence building can also be damaging and senselessly hurtful. I sometimes find myself wondering if the people I consider friends see me as expendable on some level. If I were to shut "Deliriumtree" down in all her forms. Would I be missed or simply shrugged off? People drift away from online venues constantly. It is considered the norm, to me it is sudden and jarring. A hole is torn from my fabric of my world and I am left reeling. I have people I still mourn, years later. Having a social life that exists solely in cyberspace carries a heavy weight. If I let that weight settle, the emptiness is staggering. I become all too aware that I am one of the few people who has never needed a cell phone. Why do I need to pay a monthly bill so the phone can not ring when I'm out as well as home? The temptation to dwell on such things can never be heeded.

Perhaps, it is simply a matter of quality of friends. The circle of my online friends has transitioned in the past few years. My fotc fangirls are the fiercely supportive family I have never had. Twitter is full of amazing souls who never cease to provide me with wonderful companionship, inspiration and giggles. I even have had a best friend for over a year. Someone I can tell anything to, who never judges me, but also doesn't fail to tell me when I'm wrong as well. I am making the gamble of meeting him for the first time in October. A high risk for the longest friendship I have ever had, but my hopes are high that it will be well worth it. I have even been told that I'm sexy. Me! Perhaps, it was simply a matter of finding not just people online, but the right people. There's hope for me yet.

Love and the Blasphemy

I shared this letter with a friend a while back as it's the perfect example of the sort of mail I receive from family on a daily basis.

Godless Hell Bound Whore,

Do you think that you are a basically good person? If you believe in your heart that you or anyone else is, by nature, basically good, then you have believed a Lie. Do you believe, as the American Declaration of Independence proclaims, that “... all men are endowed by the Creator with certain inalienable rights, and among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?” If you do, then you are wrong. The Bible teaches that we have no “rights,” because all of our so-called righteousness is like filthy, stinking rags compared to the true righteousness of the one, true G-d (cf. Isaiah 64:6). Everything that you have is a gift from G-d - not because you deserve it. What you deserve is to go to Hell because of your sinful pride and rebellion against our L-rd and His ways.

Well I love you

At some point in my life the words I love you became no more than a catch phrase used to end a familial conversation. Merely prelude and an afterthought to speech tinged with venom. I began to flinch visibly at the utterance of those words. Until one day, I ceased to react at all. I could never succumb to the idea that I should love someone simply due to random similarities in a few strands of DNA. It was expected and the unattainably of such a request marked me as impaired in my families eyes. I have often teetered on the knifes edge of instability wondering if they were right. I'm not sure I am capable of love.

I watch people's slow waltz with heartache. I unravel their intense longing with a sort of fascination. In my eyes, I see them chasing a tenuous fallacy built of shadow and whimsy. Yet, it is the one myth everyone believes. Everyone but me. I feel like something integral is fractured in my mind. I don't seek love. I flee from it. It is but a dusty dream I held as a little girl. A small glimmer of childlike hope that a family would hold her and love her. At some point, that dream shattered leaving me fragmented in a way I can not repair. I don't even wish to. Not to say I don't care for the beings drifting through my world. I care very much. I can't help but wonder if I'm somehow cheating them. My emotional expanse borders many limitations and is framed by impenetrable brick walls. Love languishes in mystery amongst the chaos of my mind, to remain an unsurprising blemish in my mental landscape. Much of life seems a quietly uttered secret, I simply can not hear. Why should love be any different? Perhaps, I simply held it too tightly. Or perhaps, as I suspect, it is simply not real.

Cars should run on Urine.

I was window shopping in Victoria's secret today and the best idea ever hit me! Cars should run on urine! Doing my best impression of a 80 year old speedwalker, I mused on this thought while enjoying a succulent, air conditioned work out. I began to think of anatomy and how men are naturally built to fill up a gas tank. Basically, they have a handy dandy hose between their legs. Yet, just how much urine would it take to run an average vehicle? How might people best get from one place to another? The most likely solution seemed to be polyandry. Women should acquire a harem of men so they might travel about freely. It was pointed out to me today on twitter that there are devices that allow a woman to pee standing up. This seemed like a good alternative for women who either do not wish to have a harem or simply need to add more pee in a pinch. We will all have to drink more fluids. This is a good thing. I wonder why the potential for this idea as an alternative fuel has not been looked into? Everyone needs to pee. Let's put it to good use! Get busy science! Yes, I do realize I'm insane. But, do it anyway!