Forgiveness

You told me I knew the difference. You said no one ever told you. You said it was my fault. You stopped loving me. You chose your new circle of friends. You said I knew the difference to blame me. You said I didn't know the difference as your reason to leave me. I don't think you ever loved me. When you hit me you said it was my fault. You said you warned me about my behavior.  I should have known better then to act like that. You told me to remove all my clothes you filled my mind with promises of love. You said you had something important to tell. Naked I laid next to you. You played with my hair. You touched my face. While I waited for you to continue I felt vulnerable while you drew out those anticipating moments. Waiting to hear you I thought it had to do with our future. That moment felt like you loved me. When you told me it had to do with our past and coldly spoke about her. I reached for my clothes. You stopped me. You told me she meant nothing to you. I loved you and I needed you. I learned in the years that followed what nothing meant. You finally found your dream love because you were still looking. Because she needed you.  You wanted me to meet her.  I did you both looked happy together perfectly paired.  I felt happy for you because you finally looked peaceful.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

here's more for you to ignore

You said the words I love you, so close you whispered.  You wanted to know me better to let me feel your pain.  This path I'm on.  I've tried to change direction but my dreams become too frightening.  My mind begins to deconstruct what I know.  My perception no longer serves a meaningful calming purpose.   I begin to experience distortions in reason and judgment.  The wrong direction makes my world a nightmarish vision that seems real.

Your pain, this is about your pain. 


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The Cracks

Taking apart that day would it make me understand why it happened.  Would it ever answer the hundreds of questions fragmented into my being.  Those questions that haunt me, cause me to doubt my self worth.  Make me draw worst possible conclusions.  Make me hide from even generous situations.  I'm too suspicious to allow a sliver of trust.  I lie awake at night worrying about the possibilites.  How to defend myself from what ifs.  Can I fix my broken self?  I've become accustomed to believing I'm supposed to remain in pieces.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

I notice

I notice when you look at me
I notice when you look away
I notice when you are near me
I notice when you are gone
I notice when you have something to say
I notice when you are confused
I notice how I feel about you
I notice the strange and unusual way you became part of my life
I notice how I've grown accustomed to your quirky  behaviors
I notice a deeper awareness
I notice a reality that is possible
I notice how I feel calm
I notice because of you I notice



It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Trauma survivor

I don't know why it happened. You said it was my fault.  If only I would do what I'm told. No matter what the circumstances.  I caused my own trauma.  Every chance I got I let you do it again and again.  It was what I wanted.  I thought you loved me.  I thought you were trying to love me.  I still love you.  I don't have a purpose to my life without the bruises and the sprained muscles.  The pain stayed with me as a reminder , love made me tender.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Fearing fear itself

The moment seemed like any other.  A common reaction to a rude driver.  It only took a quick thought toward anger.  The entity gripped to the handle on the door.  It didn't try to get in it.  The car parked in the driveway the entity let go and wandered around.  The next morning the door handle seemed like it was glued shut.  It took a few times to release.  The owner thought it was strange added it to the mental to do list and didn't dwell on trying to figure a reason.

Entities have their effect on things.  The heat exchange by the hitchhikers grip dried out the lubrication.  It wouldn't be detected by any means even in a visual exam.  The entity was enjoying the new surroundings waiting to exploit its unsuspecting victim.  The occasional subtle irritations were a perfect hiding spot.  Allowing access to the righteous, kind hearted feelings of common folk.  It was easy to exploit a willingly evil person.  Access to genuine kindness was highly prized within the realm where this entity was an initiate.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Charity

Her feelings were muted.  The never-ending cycle of frustration bad choices.  She wanted to belong but she couldn't, instead she learned coping skills. She had to retreat without warning. Her life had been a series of detours.  Self sabotage.  She was used to this happening without her consent she learned to expect it. She could make it happen. She knew how to feel loss and despair familiar feelings. She wasn't accustom to getting her way. She didn't know what that meant.  The things she wanted were easy to take away, without consequence to the taker.  She was expected to understand by realizing others were less fortunate.  It was a demand for her to go without.  The needs of others to be met first.  Always without question.  To the point of excess, becoming waste, and complacency.  In that she learned it wasn't about being understood, but to understand.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

A Female Fear

The day was cold.  She was darting around town trying to complete as much as possible in her trip into town.  She was walked the entire length of the local mall.  The West side of the small building was mostly vacant.  An anchor store at the far end didn't seem too far. The walk back toward the side her car was parked.  She passed a group of 5 guys who gathered in front of a vitamin store.  They started talking amongst themselves loud enough for her to hear.  Saying:  "Mmm I want some of that, me too".  She was wearing jeans and a large long jacket.  Her hair was haphazardly pulled back.  Whatever the group was imagining about her was a joke between them.  She didn't want to look at them to confront the immature group dynamic.  She  slowed down as they approached.  She quickly turned into a brightly lit shoe store.  Looked around at the merchandise a bit.  She checked to make sure the coast was clear before making her way to her vehicle.  She had a plan to deal with them if they had continued to follow her.  It wasn't necessary that day.  She was concerned about the next solitary female the group encountered.  Whatever consequence their level of humor or seriousness entailed weighed heavy on her mind.  There was no way of knowing how far that situation would have gone. There was no way of knowing their intent.  She knows it scared her.  The constant concern for any woman.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The tongue gets tied and the brain can't remember that is what happens.  There would be a time when it wouldn't be the case.  How did it happen their lives became entangled.  This was going to run it's course.  She would have to confront her fears.  She was definitely scared.  She would have to speak her fear.  She was afraid, it was vague but pervasive.  Without knowing what she was afraid of it could control this situation.  Fear couldn't be in control this was divine.  What was scaring her aside from history.  What was scaring her aside from all that had happened that led up to this moment. All the circumstances that made her the person she became.  The fear of all those bad endings.  The confusion.  The feeling she didn't deserve goodness.  The fear she would be broken.  The fear this was a primrose path.  The fear her sin's weren't forgiven.  She knew she couldn't endure what she deserved.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Before the mist he appeared. His face looked like he was pushed out into a clearing. Again they acted like they didn't see each other. It had become obvious they were both uncomfortable with their feelings toward each. They knew they couldn't speak plainly for numerous reasons. However that wasn't what was preventing them from interacting. The chill in the air like a mist trying to form a cloud. The skin tightening and the shiver confused the moment. The excitement muted so the focus wasn't a racing heart. The doubt and worry distracted by the coldness. She was able to think "what a magical moment". He remained calm and approached to talk with her. The tension between them finally broken. The shortest day of the year.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The needy male hates the woman helper

He forcefully pushed her down.  The argument went beyond words. He was done talking.  His hatred was justified.  He could easily find support in his heavy handed actions.  This time there were no spectators.  Just her.  He had forgotten he said he loved her.  He could only remember the past.  Before he met her.  He was using this moment to play with his anger.  He was enjoying being powerful.  Her attempt to stand up got her feet knocked out from under her. He climbed on top of her to keep her on the floor. He pulled her shirt tearing the fabric.  He twisted the fabric tightening the collar around her throat.  She knew he could kill her.  What stopped him? He needed someone to blame. It only worked if she could be made to look guilty.  Her being the problem was what created this scenario.  He stayed around because she was horrible.  He forgot he asked her to help him. She couldn't forget.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

It was never mine to give

Kindness and gifts she saw as torment.  Abused with attention.  The idea sounds strange.  The thoughts connected to that type of behavior for the normal mind happiness and joy.  She learned to feel helpless and ashamed.  She wouldn't expect anyone to understand because she didn't realize it was not normal to feel that way quietly.  Buried deep.  Her estimations of the intentions of other people had been skewed.  She managed okay as long as she could keep people at a distance.  She didn't want close relationships there was too much pain.  Too many secrets to keep. Too many people would be hurt.  Without the pain her identity would vanish. The pain and shame created her. To everyone it would seem ridiculous to hear.  She would not be able to make sense of her choices because they were each a reflection of her turmoil.  Why expose that much truth to greed?  If someone needed something why would they want to understand her when they could just come and take it?  She was easy to take advantage of because of her naivety.  She was easy to disregard as troubled.  She watched as life swirled around her, alone.  She waited for the glimpses of inspiration. The pieces of truth that guided her.  The certainty of grace.

With a handful of her hair she was yanked into position. "Stand still I'm talking to you.  Look at yourself you are a mess."  Anything could be called into question. An answer demanded.  Answers to questions no one asks.  Ignored and forgotten suddenly all the attention was on her.  The confusion because kindness hadn't prepared her for being pushed against a wall to be ridiculed.  Another type of attention spotlighting more turmoil.  Again abused with attention.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

His way to resolve the situation was to maneuver as close to her as she could without touching her.  She would feel uncomfortable.  He was acting like a bully.  She didn't like feeling the way he was making her feel.  He didn't care if she was afraid.  He wanted her to fear him.  He was too strong for her she would have been overpowered by him easily.  He would not let up on trying to intimidate her.  To live in fear. She knew he could sense her fear but she tired to not show it. When his friends began to show up unexpectedly, she would now have to worry about her every move.  They would drop things near her car.  She hadn't been paying attention until she recalled how frequent those items would show up and in the random places she traveled.  She had no idea what she was up against. 


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

I don't need you to be genuine if you're not.   I don't want to steal your freedom.  Exciting, yes it is.  I find my anger in you.  You are rage.  I see it when you stare at me.  I'm scared you might get things confused.  You could hurt me on a level I don't want to play. You seem as if you've been there before.  In everything about you  I see rage.  I don't know if I can help you.  I don't know how.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

she is white trash

He knew he had been leading her on. He never had any intention of fulfilling any type of masculine role he was playing into. She wanted to believe even though she was skeptical. His version of love was of distant admiration. Creating and recreating the perfect image of what could be. In the safety of his daily life. He could play the gallant, and suffering wanderer pining for his love. She could walk up and talk directly to him and the imagination would disappear. He would become caustic. His high ideals would want to knock her down. He would want to make her feel unimportant. He would tell her she is unwell, and insane. He would want to make sure his social stature and all his associates were secured arrogantly above the same ground her feet touched. Making sure they would never be forced to run through the same gauntlet she was forced through again and again. He would pretend not to see her. He would act like he didn't know her. He would be sure and shower praise and adulation onto anyone for, anything as long as it wasn't her. What sort of man does that? What sort of man allows a woman to be treated this poorly? What man would use a woman he claims to admire like a welcome mat?  To clean the feet of his admirers as he welcomes them lovingly into his presence.  To claim to not know when you've never challenged a person's credibilty doesn't not define innocence.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

All out of ideas he had picked apart her psyche enough over the past 6 months. It was turning into a sport for him. He needed to wise up or be fully confused by her existence. He was wanting to maintain his position. The level of frustration was mounting. Was he reading her wrong? Was he buying time? Was he thinking of wearing her down? She wasn't trained in purging nonsense. She couldn't absorb anymore. She went about her business. If he could treat her anyway he wanted he was making the rules. His actions toward her and the other women in the office seemed similar. He was working on each to their own need. He was going to play whatever role they needed him to.   He was going to use any insight gains to better his relationships, he didn't care if he subtly victimized any of these women.  She figured there wasn't anything genuine happening why not take out some aggressive energy on the jerk. Her sentiment was fractured like a broken bone. The bruising caused by burst blood vessels. The sprained arm from being twisted into submission. The fractured fingers...the traumas the memories forgotten and replaced with nothing but anger and rage. Enough fuel to destroy any good intentions. She couldn't go on with this untreated wound. She wasn't interested in injuring anyone. She wasn't wanting anyone to get close enough to see her pain.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

unconceal

She had enough experience in life with how to escape unpleasant realities, but very limited experience with fulfilling deep meaningful relationships.  She would never give up the option to make a hasty retreat with regards to human interaction.  It was easy for her to believe when her mind filled in the details, not having to ever strive for more with people.  Those around her who thought they knew her only saw her tempestuous reactions to them.  She was easy to blame.  An outsider who had noticed the strange dynamic one day told her.  Why can't you see they are playing a game of tag and you are always it.  She was comfortable within herself and could be seen alone quite often.  She wasn't able to see her abilities as useful because they always caused problems.  She was made to feel like an oddball, an outcast.  She would embrace and welcome the title.  She found most people wouldn't go beyond the surface of any perception they had of her.  She learned to exploit the senses as a defense to allow her to move through the real world.  She felt invisible, inaudible, insignificant. 

She always heard of people happening upon good fortune.  Discovering their life mission.  Realizing their value by using their talent.  She wasn't supposed to be one of those people.  She figured God created people like cardboard cuts out or mannequins for the purpose of helping His chosen few.  Her lot in life was to be indistinguishable, so it never matter how things would turn out.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Nobody would know

A stallion, welcomed those who made it through the gate.  Each person was routed in such a way they chose their direction.  I went right and was immediately confronted by an aggressive red horse.  He position himself as if I was going to be kicked toward the wall.   I got closer to the horse to lessen the blow.  The horse instead moved his body toward me pressing me against the wall.   It was not long enough to set me into a panic.  He shifted away and suddenly I see the horse as a costume covered man.  Removing the getup and went about raking manure, as if nothing happened.  I saw the stallion had turned his gaze toward me momentarily. He went back to looking toward the open passageway.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

-no title-

He wasn't going to admit he was wrong. He was going to continue doing the same thing and she would have to get used to it.  He would drag her into a deep confusion about her actions. He would dictate her breathing by choking her unconscious. For him it was trust. The game had moved beyond the safe word. He had convinced her it was divine inspiration. The rib of Adam, the transcendence into one flesh. They were rapt in his madness.

For her it was a dark place she illuminated throughout her life time. She always found herself there alone with her thoughts.  He knew that place too but for him there was only darkness no light, no hope.  He needed her.  She would learn just how much.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

To: Admire From: Fear how are you?

Her neck was stiff. Her throat felt tight like the beginning signs of sickness. She had been trying to clear her head all weekend.  Had she gotten through all the layers in her life up to this point to be subject to such ignorance.  Forgiveness not because of worth. Forgiveness to loosen the bind. The blind spot of hatred created something evil, and it was tangible.

He didn't want to miss any opportunity.  He wanted access to whatever was available now or in the future.  He wasn't what they call a one woman man.  He didn't care about quality.  He wasn't looking for genuine.  Which was realistic considering his mindset.  He wanted to conquer for his fantasy of manhood.  He wasn't building an empire.  He was building his self worth.  He learned people were disposable especially women, those women.   His wife would never suspect.  He knew she was naive.  Her simple understanding of issues calmed his fears.  His attentiveness to her made him seem confident, and not calculating.   If he stared a little too long at a woman he would make a demeaning comment.  An attempt to draw attention away from his leer, other times it would be a playful comment.  He seemed like such a well rounded guy it was hard to detect the malice.  Why he chose to hang on to evil intentions while being granted an abundance of blessings told a story.  A story about the nature of being human.  A story about the nature of evil.  The evil that is accessible to all human beings.  Even neglected remains eager to grow.  Evil is immiscible with love but can mimic whatever it needs to satisfy intent.  Even without intent hatred is never fully extinguished.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Fill in the blank

He told her "Don't ask too many questions.  I won't lie and you won't like the answers".  She didn't like to worry.  He'd kept his word so far.  He playfully smacked her bottom "You know what bad girls get".  He pulled the bow loose on her apron.  "Okay I need to finish what I'm doing here, weren't you supposed to finish digging up that broken pipe at the campground this weekend"? She retied her apron.
 "What happened to the pants you had on yesterday, so I can wash them"? He liked how she instantly returned to the task at hand.
 "More questions? Yes and I left them at the campground they smelled really bad.  I'll probably throw them away".
"They're barely worn".  Her curiosity was frugal not accusatory
"Fine I'll take them to the laundromat, don't want them ruining our machine".  He knew they were soaked in blood.

"Did you end up digging into the septic system. Geez they don't have maps for the underground pipework"?  She was scolding for a reason that would upset any decent person.  His confidence in her reaffirmed.  He would have to relay his story to the others so they could be sure and tell the same story.   She gave them the perfect alibi without even knowing.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Him

Her trauma (in no way an excuse) her heart was dead.  She endured their rage.  It was to become her life.  How she coped with a reality that horrified her.  She created a reality in her mind.  She wanted to feel.  She didn't know how.  Fractured bones, fractured emotions.  Trauma unseen.  Keeping secrets for what? To protect who?  She deserved to live in the world she so long imagined.   Maybe she would have to.  He wasn't seeking to know her past. He wanted to be part of her future.  He wanted to know her. What would she say?  She would switch them around the life she wished she lived would become her past. The one she lived would become pretend.




It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

I'm Blown Away

Like the unwanted dust that settled on the shelf.  I was brushed off into the air.  Thanks for opening the window, at least.  The specks of me in the air separate particles.  No shape no form.  Invisible until someone needs something to fixate on to further their dream.  Life breathed into their necessity.  No sentiment just a fleeting understanding.  Gone once the lesson is complete.  I try to escape this reality and I'm forced apart and loosely kept together like puzzled pieces in a bag,  for others to play with.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Blessings flow

The space up to and around the building was accessible by foot to anyone willing to make the journey. It wasn't ornate and didn't designate any type of attitude or behavior. The building was a unique design.  Outside and inside it was to glorify God.  The presence felt there was divine.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Incidentally

The kitten club served bacon wrapped chicken wings.  The bearded woman provided therapeutic prostate massage in her 1972 Polara. She would park they would find her.  The kitten club would show up in odd places.  Usually at opportune moments like a drinking glass to the wall.  No one ever ate the chicken wings.  They had become a knick knack decoration. Stuffed into a box and moved from place to place.  The standing password for kitten club entry was "bandages".  To the untrained eye it looked like a dumpy house on the corner.  For the initiates it looked like their worst fear.  Most couldn't awaken to the visual.  Explains why the appetizers were never eaten.  The mood at the kitten club was the constant avoidance as close as possible to compassion a human could get while not caring at all.  The walls were made of pretension and distress.  Bound together by misery.  A misery company.  Misery Incorporated.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The real life act

He liked to make women feel they were the only one. He was practiced and convincing. He knew women and enjoyed creating illusions to entrap their senses. Each girl thought she was his special interest. His motive seemed innocent enough. Ego driven and possibly insane. To play along was dangerous. To not play along was dangerous as well. There didn't appear to be a pattern. Not knowing what he wanted if he wanted anything at all. His ego needed attention. He knew how to get it. The women needed attention too. They would fill in the places for each other that he missed. He was reading one girl wrong. He hadn't figured it out yet. He would find out how inaccessible she was. He would find the void in her. He would learn to play those games with the other girls. Eventually leave her alone.

Trying to say sorry without saying sorry. It came out awkward. He wanted to talk to her give her the impression he was genuine. He commented on the weather saying this wind is so strange. He looked at her waiting for her to acknowledge him. She said "Uh? Yeah" and got away from him. The simple girls would ask questions like:  "Do you want to do this for me"? It happened to be the job that needed to be done. By making it personal it made them feel better about themselves. One of the male co-workers would tell the girls "Smile with a sweet look on your face the guys will do whatever you want".

 The girls took their cues from his interactions with them. He was hot and cold. They would dress up and curl their hair. They would wait for him to look at them. They would take any crumb of attention he tossed. They would giggle and call each other princess. They would help each other do their jobs. They would go to lunch together each day. He would watch them to let them see he was looking. He would follow them out the door. Walk along with them talking to them. He fully engaged them in flirting. They loved it. He found himself caught up in the excitement. He could say he was unaware. He could say he wasn't enjoying it. But his mannerisms said otherwise. He couldn't help but act this way.  He didn't want it any other way. He didn't know what he wanted, he just knew how to act like he wanted this.   No more and no less his motive was the act.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

There would be no turning back. He was not going to stop until he was finished. He was prepared for whatever happened. He withstood many obstacles. She realized how much protection was around her. Like a charm to create chaos and confusion. Easy access denied over and over. He was calculating. Sanity can be measured when your sanity is questioned. The realm of God's grace does not obey the human mind. Above reason above fact there is an eloquent design, a knowing. She was resisting the primrose path not because her strengthen. She saw it led to the frozen city with twinkles of light and beauty. Enticing but she did not know that frozen land. Reluctant by fear she would wait for a sign.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

She felt like everything she did was wrong.  All her actions were received as antagonistic. She was being summed up and characterized.  She wanted to create a distraction. She couldn't. She was at the mercy of the reality of other people.  She hated being subject to that sort of agendized thought but there it was.  Having to relinquish so many habits at once left her feeling at odds with her surroundings.  No longer familiar, no longer safe. The change didn't fit well at first.  She would pretend even if it made her uncomfortable.  Didn't seem to be the issue for anyone else. Besides no one cared or listened anyway.  This might be easier to navigate without  effort.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Know thyself.

"You better watch out, you better not cry..." he tried to make light of the fact he hurt her.  It was intentional and his meaning was clear.  You ever think of mindlessly playing games with my ego your body turns into my punching bag.  She knew the rules before getting involved with him.  He never hid that. There was a gray area between them outlined in red.  Like a warning alert, like blood. The amount of leeway she was accustomed to was gone. This was not a time for escape or freedom. This was not a time for pity or suffering. This was a time for honesty. A chance to be redeemed. The forgiveness of sin.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Turn right at the signal, turn left into the parking lot wait near the tree

It was the first time they talked without anyone around. Just her.  Just him. The conversation was awkward, dry and clinical. She studied his face, his eyes, his mouth. She asked the same question three times just to keep talking to him. She never heard his answers.  Each time he answered, he became calmer.  He could see he had gotten to her.  He knew this woman, even though by social standards, they were strangers.  He dreamed of her. She imagined deep conversations with him. In this raw moment too many thoughts unsaid.  The moments when reality takes a shape.  Unlike waking from a dream. When you step from reality into a dream the surroundings get brighter. Like a powerful light begins to shine.  Sure it could have been the sun, explained away on a cynical level, with its intensity and heat.  Away from that moment she couldn't remember their exchanged words.  She finally realized she let down her guard, too late for being afraid. This was part of her, a part of herself that she never explored.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

come again? I meant over and over.

The quarterly manager meeting discussed a reigning in on expenses.  A notice stapled to each paycheck required a signature.  To accept their paycheck the employees had to sign the agreement, no unauthorized overtime allowed.  One of the office girls said.  "No overtime, looks like I'm going to need to work some bend over time to make up the difference".  She figured the financial stress on her male co-workers would make it easy to entice them.  Another girl said "Hey we should ask for Braless Friday.  So we can help her out.  We'll call it charity work".  "Oh yeah I have the cutest top my tits look great in.  Shit maybe I can write it off on my taxes it was expensive". "Your tits were expensive maybe you can write them off too since you need them to make the blouse look good."  "Ha I'm gonna give my taxman a hard on with that call".  "I use Turbo Tax the chat bot would block me from the site for an inquiry like that".


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

and so she was warned

He was answering a co-worker. She walked into the area. His answers were for her to hear. The conversation was loose enough the answers served dual conversations. The eavesdroppers feasted on red herring. Outwit a dimwit you don't get a prize. Sometimes people can admit defeat, most of the time that isn't the case. Either way it didn't matter. The relationship had deepened. The solid foundation set. Playing with this much power is not an option. Playing to the cheap seats doesn't work without the proper audience. A person with something to loose will defend their territory. It was a thin line. She was reminded her life was easily extinguished by an accident. When the guy who makes it his business to know walked by singing Oh My Darling using her name.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Reality is boring

He said her name aloud. It was yesterday, it was around noon. That's where the details begin to fragment.  He was very clear with his demand. He knew she would see his humor. When she questioned do I have to?...he forcefully spoke yes.  She compiled.  She realized this suddenly changed their dynamic.  Her reality would begin to shift slightly, slowly.  Eventually her life would become monumentally different.  Not for anyone to notice. The impact would become noticeable to him and her.  People talk about the crossroads, through contrived circumstances to write love songs.  No one would be writing their story.  If anyone tired it wouldn't make it through the sieve of uptight artist heirs that produce gelatinous goo that bogs down the life force.  Their story wasn't exciting enough to thrill an overfed, sexed up fan base.  They demanded the full banquet of twisted kink to feast upon.  They were used to zoomed in self portaits of predigested plumped fullness.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

killing you, killing me

Was he really trying to kill her or just having fun terrorizing her?  He had a fan base of admirers he convinced them of her jealousy. Why do women feed from that trough?  He wouldn't kill her on purpose it would most likely be an accident.  It would be along time before he could find this much excitement if he did kill her.  Was he calculating enough to realize?  If so was he not able to see how much he loves and needs her. Why was it okay in his mind to see her scared and hiding from him? His mental state made him look weak and fragile. He couldn't tell her fear of him was actually his reflection. He hadn't yet realized he was seeing himself displayed.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Stop creating reality

1 Don't wear that you're going to give people the wrong impression. 
2 I don't care what people think.
1 Neither do I, but do you care what I think?
2 Yes
1 Okay don't wear that


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

12 and15 more to go

She was so nervous her hands were shaking.  She clasped her hands together trying to make the trembling less obvious it didn't work.  She rearraigned her bag in her lap. She looked for her phone anything she could in an attempt to not look like an absolute nervous wreck.  She wasn't able to study him. She wasn't able to see if he was catching glimpses of her.  She couldn't think.  She couldn't pretend. She couldn't think straight when he was around. She said stupid things her voice would crack or be off pitch. Her hands sweat and her skin felt flush.  What is this, she wondered. Such an intensity. Real feelings she never had to feel before. She never experienced this type of transforming love.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Sometimes life has to take you on a tour so the subtleties can be pointed out and explained. I get impatient because I feel like I've been on this tour long enough. It makes it seem as if I've seen this before. Heard this story enough times I have it memorized. Something in me keeps my attention unsettled. I used to feel overwhelmed by it. Now I'm comfortable with a skill I've not been able to master. This thought will have to wait. I have to get to work...

I'm sure it was a coincidence.   This morning I pulled into the convenience store to get a cup of coffee.  I ran into a guy I've been thinking about lately.  He was a former romantic interest. Years before he was in a relationship.  I was single but not fully recovered from a recent breakup.  We would flirt but nothing more. He seemed content where he was at that time.  I was tying up loose ends and not looking for more. I knew I hadn't yet recovered from my former life and was aware I was on a destructive path.  Today I can see I was naive and hurt for all the wrong reasons.  Living defensively, I wasn't looking for intimacy.  I was looking for answers.  What happened to my life, I was preparing to be married.  We were driving to put down the deposit at the reception venue. He locked the keys in the car with the envelop of cash.  He was excellent at planning things.  In the time stranded waiting for the tow truck he let me know he couldn't marry me.  It was clever.  I couldn't leave.  I couldn't become hysterical in a public place.  It forced me to sit and listen to him completely.  He had been able to orchestrate and manipulate me. He controlled the entire situation.  I felt hurt, embarrassed, confused.  Why me?  Was anything certain. Was I practice? A challenge? An easy victim? I couldn't make sense of it and especially didn't trust my own judgment.

Here was a reminder how the mind creates perceptions.  Today I felt the off feeling something wasn't right but I gave him my number anyway.  I have my feet solid on the ground now.  His presence took me back to a place in time.  The feeling I had this morning reminded how vulnerable I was.  I wondered if I had changed. Did he see me as vulnerable then and now?  I've been introspecting ever since the encounter.  My mind jumps back to the past, was he interested in the former me.  Forward to the present will he call?  Am I different, will he notice?  Am I the same, will I be tricked again?

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Flirting with a sociopath

Working amongst friends. They had tuned their working relationship into a destructive tool.  It was unstoppable.  The weakest link in the foursome was drawn out like a moth to the flame.  She felt confident in her abilities.  Not having to defend herself alone. She was used to getting special attention. Her appearance was kept up not a hair out of place.  She thought of herself as a blonde.  She treated people like she was a blonde.  She wanted desperately to be blonde and Caucasian.  She didn't know why.  Thoughts never needed to develop fully, her friends filled in all the empty spaces. Her husband and children a distant reality from her alter ego work space.  She expected the males around her to talk with her at length. She expected the males around her to be engaged by her interests.  She could always get her way.  Things unfolded on cue. She had grown to expect that.
Side glances from a guy with his looks never go unnoticed.  Before long he was smiling directly at her. She found herself looking for him. Her thoughts wandered. She wanted to feel him touching her. She would step in front of him to act absentminded.  He would lightly touch her shoulder, not to startle her. She would tilt her head to draw out the fantasy play. The feelings between them developing.  Her reasoning unexplored. His reasoning unquestioned.  The truth was developing how long could this continue. Her expectation wasn't wanting to meet his rage.  He wasn't preparing her for it.  His rage was being set aside for someone else.  She was an alibi to make himself seem social, controlled, sane.  She was simple enough to believe her worth was highly prized.  The story completed by her well developed ego. Nothing for her to fear.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

model

The image to represent the ease and comfort of life.
Such a simple task.
No not you.
You cover over lies.
Deceit and trickery.
That isn't modeling.
That is evil.
It is good to label things correctly when lying to oneself.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

You allude to we

Living between the space of absolute and absolution. Confinement never feels comfortable. Choosing freedom creates endless possibility. I am not able to accept what is being offered. A change of heart? Possibly but not that simply stated. If that is as good as it gets in your world you are obviously an amateur which renders any and all promises void. Your withholding of facts constitutes a lie. You tried to use your lie as a key to unlocked my truth.  My truth is greater.  Your word has nothing to attach itself to in my smooth existence.  I've gotten here through a very real path.  You can't be honest about your path. Reality exposed.  It is for certain the one thing I can count on from you. You will never tell that truth. You can't, you are incapable.

Reflections in the glass
Seeing undetected
Catching an otherwise unreadable emotion
Honest or primitive because it is unguarded
Not mine to reconcile

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Buffoonery

He stood far enough away he didn't need to hide.  As long as he stood still he belonged in the surroundings.  Blending with the combined trees and bushes that made the park.  It was by chanced he was there.  His mind tormented him.  To him she was a reaper come to take his soul.  The truth didn't matter.  His reality ruled his life. She seemed to walk straight toward him. He heard the jingle of keys. She turned her back toward him to unlock the driver door. He ran straight toward her.  Slammed her into the side of the car before she could turn the key.  He fell on top of her. She hadn't yet full realized what happened. He smashed her hand around the keys with his fist forcing her to release them. She at first thought he only wanted her car.  Her keys on the asphalt.  She attempted to get herself off the ground. Thinking he was going to hit her with the door. She never thought to scream she was a modern woman. Fearless brave strong. Her nerves were built like a mountain. He was not interested in her car, her career goals, or her body.  He was fighting her for his life which meant he would have to take hers. The forensics showed she tried to fight, but finding her lifeless body meant he won. Robbery obviously not the motive.  A sarcastic press release read:
Looking for the winner of the fist fight at Dunbar Park on Thursday evening.  Come down to the precinct and collect your prizes and endorsements.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Upright and vast

I'm not sure how I got it so wrong, but I did.  Here I find myself again being led by more lies. Following this new lead. The promises hollow. The details fill in like paper scraps in the breeze.  Being caught by whatever stops them for the moment.  It doesn't seem fair to allow this much creativity to escape into the unknown.  The world can decide what to make of the empty chair.  The image for me, when I thought it was for me, meant something personal.  As inviting as an interrogation for all my energy to be drained. An attempt to trick me.  It has since been discovered, those riches can be found anywhere.  No longer needed from me.  The invite has been revoked. The chair filled by the new muse.  I continue on with my same wants. Guarding what has been given to me. Waiting for the rightful owner.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Coolness

He walked around the corner quickly.  Took away the necessary seconds for composure. Her reaction was off guard.  She whispered a common greeting. He glared through her with an emotionless face. It wasn't a look to be read as him not  seeing her. He was annoyed. That lipstick.  Had it been his instruction to wear it, no problem.  She realized it would cause him to ignore her the rest of the day.  His control was a follow up, leaving her to determine the cause.  No eye contact, completely shut off.  He wouldn't allow her to redeem herself.  It would be a long day.  Until he accidentally gathered up her papers with his. She had to retrieve them before he left.  She approached and said you took my papers. With the same indifference he returned them.  A crystal ball cannot reveal what happens within the soul. The facts and fears encountered in a moment is a roll of dice. The game, the rules, the winners, the losers.  With a longing to resolve, the pathway bends leading deeper into the shadows of trees.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

I'm good at trying to make sense out of nothing. Sifting through imaginary rubble. Looking for usable thoughts to sustain me. I accept the insight leading me to believe in a possible ally. I have wanted this for many years. It's a welcomed blessing but I'm scared. A powerful resource. I've made promises. I forfeited my irrational, unpredictable and bare defense mechanism in exchange for calm chaos. The silliness fallen away.
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Establishing Terror

With the sound of an alarm you don't have to see it to know it's there. Seeing him standing there finally without anyone around. The moment things begin to strobe and senses pique. They stood and stared at each other longer than the setting deemed appropriate. Beyond the imagination, the months and moments that led to this happening. Buried deep like Merlin in the rock, and Atlantis in the sea. Hidden in the blind spot, of the ego. For worthy initiates only. She listened for his words he listened for the silence, the stillness. The energy expended to sustain the charm burned out immediately, no slow ethereal dim of a setting sun. The source cut off. It took awhile to regain internal composure and feeling the feet touching the ground.  With hindsight clarity.  The occurrence equivalent to the warrior seeing the banquet and spoils after the conquering raid.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Know Thyself

He said. "I know I'm slowing down your shooting star. Can you give me a moment?" She was used to breezing through what seemed like familiar terrain. The everyday life. Doing what you got to do. On pause waiting for the rush of insight. Distracted by his handsome face. It was not easy to see the torture contained within. The stillness. The vortex. The flow. It is moments like that when creation is simple. Separate and distinct elements each working to the fullest potential. The boundaries broken. The last hurdle on the journey, reality.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Very good I will go

18 minutes of trying. The value in those shared minutes worth more to me than years of false hope. The trap set by envy and greed. The drag of the rope. The stolen thunder.  If conquering means my demise I won't be missed if ever I mattered.  To die on the vine, to sweeten, to fall.
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

How many times do I go around in this little circle? Is there more? I came out here far to be away from all the unresolved nonsense.  Here it is again. More mealy mouthed people.  More strange circumstances. More nothing.  All the other nonsense still  unresolved.  People only want to use information like a weapon.  No one is interested in facts. Just basal desire for money, power.  It is twisted into what appears to be real.  Why create a fake reality no one believes in. Everyone can see it as fake. 



It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

A particular moment

Setting the record straight. I wonder if it is ever worth it to be honest amongst people who don't understand. Trying to clarify what is wrong doesn't mean it will make it right.  I want to be honest and truthful. I know that isn't how life works.  There are layers. Layers of understanding. Layers of interpretation. Layers of realization. Sometimes it is possible to see through the layers. Seeing isn't attaining. Being able to have a vision of something but not being able to reach it.  This has been my experience in my life.  I can see it but I just can't get to it.  Frustrating okay it's frustrating. Why have I been given an ability to see so clear but not given any other resources to utilize. 

Thieves and liars will continue to rule.
Thieves and liars will continue to win.

Thieves and liars will continue to shape a simplistic reality.



It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

How to know if your spiritual vision needs a corrective lens?

I'm not seeing clearly maybe I need a microscope or a telescope. Things are strange and new and different. Life is good. God is awesome.
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Unreal

Never was anything to begin with.  Whatever was necessary to put that agenda together.  Makes sense why you surrounded yourself with liars. Sell lies repaid with fame. That's all you wanted.  Cover your tracks ha what for? You're such an accomplished liar no one has any reason to question your validity.  Imaginary it's been imaginary. Unreal it's been not real. For what? For you alone.  My future is getting my brains bashed on to a cement slab and yours is pretending like you care. Oh yeah that's right I forgot you care. Yes I forgot.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Made of dirt

Discovery like an unearthing, getting dirt on an issue.  Now I have insight into a matter. What it means other than people are human?  Now I understand why I don't fit in.  I don't want to fit in.  I want to be where I'm meant to be.  Why I generally end up in scenarios feeling sidelined is a question of my life. Here I am again. Watching while others get their turn again and again. I tell myself okay this is great for them. I think I will just leave it at that because I can't rearrange the universe on my whims.  I can feel frustration and hope. The stuff greatness is built on. The foundation of solid matter. How to understand it's real. For me, a person easily led astray by fanciful thoughts, I need grounding. Restrictions can help to view reality.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The future being created today by persons who aren't my friends. I feel the cold.
 The cold that can't be warmed by the sun. Nothing new in the familiar feeling.  The world I've known.  Ignored forgtten minimized.  Distance could have changed somethings.  Now I'm told I had it all and was too stupid to realize.  Convenient how when reimagining a past the simpleton again writes the details. There's a reason you don't know.
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Furthermore

The put on came to rest as a guy on a cell phone. Hardworking, stately, handsome. His beliefs clashed with the modern world. Hysterical women breed discipline. Caught within the confines of determination doing the right thing the right way. Life presents temptations. Giving choice to fantasy minimizes that object. A life unlived. If women are expected to maintain composer stamp down fanciful notions. Are men allowed to become sullen from inaction or take whatever they please? Is there a hierarchy in decision making. Does one choice made freely hinge on a million others. Is life to be lived at great distance from dreams. While the choice few make extremely poor plans.
It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

A circle a square.  Angles or curves they both have an outline. Sameness no difference. How do we know.  Madness a choice a part of what's real. The guideposts get further. The stillness not still.  Common ground like digging a hole.   Dirt taken, a void and a pile.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Sepulcher and candlelight

The corpse withers and the coffin is ornate and refined. Beautifully shaped and decorated.  Like what is considered beautiful in the world today. Beauty on the outside dead on the inside.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Those dreams of yours

Those dreams of yours where you start to think, things can be a certain way. Those dreams that never get too far from that pillow. The places you go. That life you live. The way you act when you aren't dreaming. Creates that world you live in. Those dreams of yours seep, but only when you're sleeping. Those dreams of yore. Those dreams of yours stay silent when you sing. You'd never run to catch me. You'd never call my number. You'd never write love letters. That is what I see. You act like you would, but we both know the truth. Looks like you're successful to me.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

What's important

Today I was frustrated with a person. At least that is what I thought. I was going to tell another person about my frustration. After stating I had something to tell, I said "No I can't say it, this is gossip, this is evil." I still continued to feel that person was the problem. Later in the day I happened to meet a friend I hadn't spoke with in a long while. During our conversation we each shared current life experiences. In our talk I realized I was being shown how convenient it is to blame a difficult issue on a person. It causes more confusion. Understanding how it is a habit to resolve conflict by blame brings the problem into the proper reference. It is not a mystical power controlled by other people. An honest assessment can shift a conflict into a resolution. I didn't try to resolve anything with the person. I did prevent myself from spreading hate filled gossip and that is what was most important. The rest I have no control over.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The sound a bell makes

What makes the bell. Is it the outer casing, or is it the clapper?

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

asking to feel regret during Lent

Seeing myself without a mirror. I can see the cruel person I can become. Instances I react to. Why I feel it is justified is selfish. Am I blind to a better solution. I destroy myself either way. To be Christ like we are called to service. Why does it make me feel hollow, empty. It isn't just the wrong choice which brings regret. I think regret is always available. Regret is the least talked about emotion. Regret is difficult to explore.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

oppression

Petrichor, Crepuscular ray.  Terms invented to describe phenomenon that aren't inventions.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Knock knock.

The thing about becoming a hermit. Some of the things you find enjoyable cease to exist while we are away. They get lost in history never to be found again. The world has changed profoundly. A weird feeling was created by observing outside.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Peppertree in the rain

branches move out of the way to let the water flow. Like dancing to music in your mind. The times in life when reality seems unbearable. The moments with the most possibility.

  It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Shhh

I've heard you. You don't realize the incessant talking has gone on many years.  I'm through listening. I finished wondering. I don't want to hear another word.  Stop talking about things you know nothing about. Stop telling me who you think I am. Stop telling me what you imagine I'm thinking, doing, dreaming, reacting to. You don't know. You've never asked.  You don't want to listen.  The proof is plain to see. I took too long to answer a question you never asked me.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

accept the void

In your world. In your personality. You have no system to include my opinion. Nothing wrong and nothing illegal about that. However because of that there is no input, or exchange. It would seem to me that would be alarming. It isn't. You don't have to care. You don't want to know. There is a sustainable life for you without me. Illuminating the pathway to oblivion.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

lying

flat on your back
on the right side
on the left side
on the belly
on the altar
in the road
on the roadside
in the sun
in a ditch
on the sidewalk
on a park bench
in the sand
by the river
to yourself


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96