My blog HAS lost its 'luster'. There's something...I don't know. Infinitely lacking. The questions of rhetoric I once used to continue this along have faded out. The fascinating-or possibly droll-people I've met, the things I've done. Since leaving the island, things have been...different. Not as...exotic might be the word I'm looking for. But then, it might not.
I'm addicted to attention. But not only that. Attention and possibility. I need both. FireOpal-who did not exist-paid me a LOT of attention, but there was no possibility. Now I have what I've wanted for so long-a man who loves me so infinitely as to be incomprehensible-and I'm looking for something else. Something better, something different. Something more. Why? I did that with Ruby. Hell, I've done that with everyone. Except FireOpal, I never did that with "him". Now I'm back to my tragic state-looking, searching, hoping, longing, yearning. And never finding. You live with a dream for so long, you spend years, decades trying to find it...and then what? You waste all that time on something that doesn't exist and in the end you remain alone. 'Forever' is a long time to wait, a long time to look, a long time to plan. And if at the end of it you still haven't found what you're looking for, how much have you lost in the looking? So do you-and by 'you' I mean 'I'-accept what IS and resign myself to contentment (who knows? maybe even happiness) or continue looking for total bliss and lose what I've got in the process?
Ah, decisions.
Laters

I watch her sometimes. Maybe that makes me creepy and wierd, but I do. When she's looking the other way, when she's talking to herself, when she's playing alone or with others. When she's talking to me, sitting with me in the same room watching the same movie.
Sometimes I just stop and stare.
I don't remember her. Not the hours of walking around a darkened house, the shrieking at odd hours, the completely dependent baths, the diapers, the vomit...nothing. I see her as she is and I am smitten. 'Love' is such a pathetic word sometimes. Pathetic and useless.
And sometimes...I dream about her. Who and what she is, who and what she will be, who and what she CAN be. I wake up crying from those dreams. Because OH, I don't know what I'm doing. And what's a 'clue'??
This little Amethyst, the beautiful, perfect little antichrist...
HOW do I teach her how to be what SHE wants to be and not what *I* want her to be?
How in the HELL do I do ANY of this?
My Amethyst, my treasure. My heart will always know the value of her. And all it knows is that she is worth beyond measure.
Laters

A dream. A fantasy, an illusion. A world apart.
That's where I've been living. Outside reality. Waiting for a dream. Creating dreams where only facts exist. Walking with my eyes closed, deliberately blind.
My eyes are opened now. I see the truth in front of me.
And all I want to do is scream, close my eyes, and curl up back inside my dream.
Laters