Infinity in the Love Degree

I stared at you as you walked away. You would
come back, yet my heart ached long and hard.
Unfurled, curved claws sliced into my chest,
ripping raw flesh like it was
wet tissue exposing the vibrant,
red beating vessel which contained my
life force upon this Earth. My eyes met yours in
solemn vulnerability wishing for you to put me to rest.
Let me grasp my final destination of infinite

As you reached that ghastly claw above me and
roared in love pain, your face turned and instead of
tearing me bare, you forlornly abandoned our last
stance. Snot and blood coming upon my face,
sending confusing sensations to my brain, I allowed
myself to be drained from the wound you thrust into my bust.
Lifting my head up, the
trail of tears cleansed my crimson face,
creating a path tiny enough for me to find my way back
home where I would hold fast for your

Nothing left for me to do but be
still and remain true.
Loyalty not meant for you,
but to myself and the
infatuation that had not only
been shed, but had remained
pumping through our veins



Haters Gonna Hate; I Know I Do.

So, there’s this new thing or maybe it’s not exactly new. But, it’s definitely been more up in my face as of a couple of years now. I think before it was just called jealousy. Lately, it’s evolved to just haters and their hate. I know for a fact I have always been a hater to some degree. Growing up in a family where you don’t have much and get most of your clothes from the thrift store before it was cool or expensive lead me to not only recede into my little safe cave, but it also really promoted me hating. It wasn’t really something that had a meme or was cool. There was no name for it. It was just you have what I don’t, so I’m gonna hate you for it. Now, it’s been taken to a whole other level. Hating on someone or something is actually a thing. It has been fun though, I’ll admit. I mean, at the end of the day, there will always be someone better than me and someone worse off. It’s just the way life goes. And, I’m sure you can guess this already, but I’ve been on both sides of this hater’s quarrel.

I can’t remember exactly when it started, but I’ve been hating on chicks as far back as my flat chest and those other chick’s plump boobs can bring me. I know for a fact boobs were sprouting out all around me in sixth grade. However, there was this one chick, Heather McGhee, in junior high who really let the rest of us know exactly what we were missing out on. She was like three to six inches taller than the rest of us and had the actual body of a woman. She was tan and had bleach blonde hair sticking up straight in just the right places. She had all of the popular and expensive clothes. Guess jeans were regularly worn, as well as mini-skirts, acid washed everything, big hoop earrings and stirrup pants. Her crop tops always pushed the dress code too. I would constantly catch not only boys, but teachers as well, looking to get a glimpse of her perfectly flat and tan stomach when she would reach for something. She was disgusting. She was perfect. She was silently adored by many and outwardly hated by more. So, early on, I was hating on Heather McGhee, who became¬† a symbol of hatred towards many other girls.

Eventually, I would learn to be jealous of any girl who got “my” attention. It wouldn’t last long because I would have to come through the room like a tornado to get it back. But, it seemed like everywhere I went, I had competition. For the most part, it was some chick who had something fake. It was either her hair, her tan or her boobs. Down the road, it became all of it. Life just didn’t seem fair once fake boobs were allowed in the mix. I mean, I was already battling on a slippery slope. I didn’t have the longest hair, the biggest boobs or the prettiest face. Now, for a little bit of cash, anyone can have big boobs. It was just not fair. However, I was a lot of fun though and would do crazy shit. The guys seemed to like the notion of some chick out drinking them. Yet for some reason, they didn’t like having to drive me home because I threw up all over myself. With big fake boobs, they didn’t have to worry about anything besides getting laid, which usually wasn’t hard. One thing those chicks usually didn’t have was self-esteem. I saw plenty of them go home with dudes who did not deserve those big, luscious fake boobs.

So, for quite some time hating on those chicks seemed to work out okay. We eventually figured out how to have a balance or more like I did. I would swear off any dude who dated chicks like that. I figured we were not on the same level and poof, they would be out of the mix. Problem solved. As I look back on it, it was pretty sad. I mean I immediately not only prejudged people on their looks, but their preference of those looks and then just locked them out.¬† Also, I couldn’t give a compliment to another female to save my life. They were all crap. If they felt good about themselves, I felt less about myself. It was just the way it was. Their perfection pointed out my flaws. It went on this for quite some time. I mean, I would have moments in my life where I could see a woman for who she was and just be ok with it. But, usually it was some sort of weird, keep your enemies closer kind of thing or keep them way the fuck on the other side of the map thing.

Now, I am in a bit of a different place or an evolving place then before. I can see someone and find something about them that I like without having to find the thing that I don’t. I can see a woman and say, “Wow. You have really great eyes and a banging body,” and be inspired instead of jealous. After all, it’s always about elevating other women and not pushing them down. I’ve always known that a happy person is just a better person all around. So, why would I want to hate on someone? After all, that just contributes to the negative side of things and it becomes this perpetual motion of crap. I still do have a lot of work to do. A lot. I won’t even lie. I have recently been motivated by a friend. Someone who is attractive and we would definitely be wading in the same dating pool if we were both single. We’re not, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t still hate on her. Instead, I’ve become happy that I can slowly get to build a friendship with this person. And, I will strive to live a much healthier life because it seems that this person is doing so, as well. With one person at a time, I get to do things differently. I get to be the person who I want to be because at the end of the day, I love life because of the difference. I would absolutely die if I didn’t have all of you to look at. With that being said, I’m going to just keep my mouth shut on the stuff that doesn’t inspire me and allow that good stuff that does to know that it does exactly that.