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