I decided to choose freedom today.To hell with being dependent,smiling,nice and sweet cuddly toy!I started from firmly saying 'NO' to my beloved's suggestion to stay in bed five minutes longer.I went downstairs and had breakfast before work.Healthy breakfast is a base of a healthy day.And I'm proud of myself.
   I haven't had any other opportunity to say NO to anybody else today,as I work at a very quiet reception.It means that the only person I've seen for the last four hours or so was one of our salesmen.And he didn't suggest anything I could say NO to(answering NO to the question how I am isn't really advisable,I think....they seem to think that there's something wrong with my mental health anyway).
   But I remember that I used to be really good at saying NO to people(I didn't have to make such a big decision about that,anyway)...especially when I was about three years old.What happened to me then,that at the age of 25 I have problems with choosing if I want Chinese or Indian takeaway,or maybe a kebab?And what if I prefer a bowl of fresh vomit?Training.Conditioning.
   One of my lecturers used to say that raising children is exactly like training dogs-prize for good behaviour,punishment for bad things.When we grow up,society takes over the role of our parents and trains us with equal efficiency.
    Don't say NO-have respect for your parents and everybody older than you
    Don't say NO-it's not ladylike at all
    Don't say NO-be a good girl
    Don't say NO-you will hurt their feelings
  And so on,ad infinitum.
   I've been really well trained in saying YES and smiling and being a good girl in general.I don't think I'm the only one.But I've just decided to fuck it.I'm not going to let you touch me only because you are older and I should have respect.I don't care what you think of my behaviour.And I'm definitely going to hurt your collective feelings bacause you hurt mine every day.
   ...but first,I need to sit down and think.I'm not really used to it,you see.There always was somebody around to think for me and make me feel safe.
    Knock,knock....what do you want to do today?What do you want to eat?In what position do you want to make love?Do you want to do it at all?Do you want to go to work?Do you like this job?
    Who do you want to be when you grow up?
    When you grow up?

   When I finally get  mad,my mother willl say that it happened because I had too much time to think.And,as everybody knows,excessive thinking can be harmful.Thinking causes mental ilnesses,headaches and unpredictable development of intelligence.Thinking causes pain and pain makes us think more.Vicious circle with lobotomy as the only (final? ;) ) solution.

...and,one day,she started laughing and crying when he was inside her ,and for the first time in her life she felt so free during this simple,yet so complicated act.And again she got a little bit closer to the balance-it became less about violence,more about love.Another little step.And she doesn't want to write about shit,vomit,pain and bleeding today.
   It's never been easy for her,no matter what she was showing,it's never been a purely physical act,rarely a good thing,mostly pretending that she liked it...nearly always feeling like a prostitute.Meat and friction and a half conscious hug afterwards,and she could go to sleep.And they paid her in kisses and words-loved her,adored her,not caring about the sadness and emptiness hidden so expertly behind fake smile and eyes full of lies.
   She didn't want them to know,anyway.She never considered them equal,they were always too weak to carry her problems in addition to theirs.What could they do about them?How could they help?Besides,they loved her happy,they loved her smiling,they loved her strong.She learned to be that and even more.They were giving her what they thought was real love and everybody was contented.
  She still doesn't know how it started.She doesn't remember when the act of physical love-such a beautiful thing when she lets herself feel it-became a dark,sick and violent thing in her mind.Maybe she doesn't want to remember,there are some things she's afraid to touch.
   But,thanks to him,she can see the light at the end of the tunnel.She can cry now.She can laugh.She can be happy inside.
   Sometimes.

   Drifting in black waters of my unconscious mind...thinking about the past and uncertain,as always,future.My thoughts circle around my mother and the immaturity.And my ex-boyfriends,twisted Tarot cards,my choices revealing too much of unpleasant truth about myself.

   Small,unexpected things trigger this reaction in me.Like sight of him talking to another woman or even looking at her.Immediately the perfect machinery of my body starts pumping adrenaline,fists clench unconsciously and fangs nearly jump out of their sockets.My body tells me that it's time to kill,but unfortunately it never specifies who should be the victim-the woman?my man?or,maybe,perhaps,me?The next second everything is gone and I inhale deeply.Feeling posessive is one of the BAD things,so I feel embarrassed and punish myself according to the old ritual,scratching my cheek with long,sharp nails.It doesn't hurt,just reminds of the strangely comforting possibility of pain and of the professionals hired for funerals to cry and bleed for the beloved corpse.And of course it's a symbolic smack,but no, I'm not going to hit myself in public,I'm not so sick,just a touch is enough and I know what it means,THEY don't have to.And I feel better,purified,slightly warmer inside,especially about an inch below my belly button,where this hungry little creature squirms constantly and WANTS...but this touch is just a taste,there will be no more and I shiver because it's cold again.
    It takes only seconds.I can still see him-talking to somebody,looking at somebody,breathing in this person's direction.And I'm cool,I always stay so cool outside,I can even say "yes,of course you can fuck her whenever you want".
    But there is an ocean of fire behind the cold mirrors of my eyes.

...and Me,drinking it.
Abssinthe with wet hair and sleepy eyes.The need to do something,to move,to create new worlds...I'm  not even trying to break through my limits-though I've found some new ones recently.Lazinessssssssssss.......
I feel too good to do anything:)
Just GOOD.
I can hear My man playing the guitar in the next room...I've just had a shower...I'm going to sleep in a minute...
....nothing new.
Times are not interesting,thank Eris:)

...I see her every day when I look in the mirror-shining eyes,jet-black hair,sweet smile and body of white marble...white marble with black veins where poison flows,giving her fuel and will to live.Every day she wakes up and smiles...
...because she is truly happy only in the mornings,when she doesn't have to say anything,when she doesn't have to be anybody she isn't,when she can just feel the warmth of his body next to hers,and imagine that love gives her all the power she needs.
         
         -enjoy the silence-

She is really happy when she can lie to herself...but suddenly she remembers,she feels the hatred in her.And she inhales deeply,and her black blood starts to flow again.And she hates...she hates for the rest of the day,she hates under her smiling mask.
  She hates all the skinny girls in mini-skirts and short tops,laughing and walking with their heads high,as if the world belonged to them-because she wants the world as well,or perhaps just slimmer body and some confidence?