dried and cracked

living on land
once carved by ice
now they've covered it with concrete
and they've jacked up the price
and the earth shakes just to break it loose
volcanos erupt to blow off steam
and if our mother had a voice
she'd use it now to scream
so we'll work most our lives
to pay for a box
where we can hide from the world
behind doors with big locks
and it makes us feel safe
but there's nowhere to hide
if nature wants to take us
she'll just call upon the tide
she'll call upon the winds to blow
she'll cry out to the rain
the sun will dry our bodies out
and turn them into clay again
so we all take our pills
just to fit into
a world that we weren't made for
and all the time to live our lives
must be bought and paid for
and the words to express
the things that are wrong
are the kind you could be slayed for
so shut your mouth
and hold it in
the next work day
will soon begin
and after all, that's what you're paid for.

feelings for blue

I feel your presance when you're not around
I'm reaching into solid earth
to see what's underground
and I'm finding things that are burried there
just waiting to be found
and you know as well as I do
that hearts don't speak the language of our minds
never doing what we tell them to
causing knots to form along our spines
I've watched you from a distance
I've felt you in my being
your music lives inside my head
your body moves inside of me
and we're determined to stay free
but what does that really mean
I thank you for the things you've helped me see
and for how kind and loving you have been
and maybe there's no box to fit
whatever we have to hold
there isn't a label to place on it
that could convey what needs to be told
so lay with me
and sleep and dream
let's not think too much about
the heartache we've both seen
it's enough for me to watch you breathe
and listen to you sing
I won't ask you to change yourself
on account of me
or expect you to rearrange
the order of your dreams
with chaos on our bodies
and scorpio in our suns
what we've set in motion
crazy beautiful and fun
it's not a thing to burden hearts
or make us come undone
it's a breeze across our faces
the fresh air we've both been craving
an outlet for all the secret
passions we've been saving
and with the moans your touch creates
my voice is finally heard
you listen to my body
you listen to my words
and when your roots have been dug up
and you find yourself alone
my space and I will welcome you
to call our air your own.

here and now

my heart is racing
and I'm seeing things clear
I've been searching for something
that has always been here
the time is right now
and I draw a breath in
mindful as I
release it again
and the wind strokes our faces
and rain soaks our feet
and fire turns matter
to smoke, ash and heat
and earth reaches out
to give all that we need
then we turn it around
and we cut it all down
and replace all its life with concrete
and it's so hard to find
just a little peace of mind
waking each day in this world
and with all that I do
and the things I've been through
they still treat me like I'm just a girl
so I look deep inside
where there's nowhere to hide
and I've finally found where I am
It's here and it's now
and it don't matter how
we're all doing the best that we can.

in my mind

fair weather friends

and a stiff enough drink

can see me through times

when I don't need to think

when good dreams hurt worse

than bad ones ever dare

when I rise to find that my waking time

is the real nightmare

and you're telling me things

that you've said a thousand times

just to make sure

that they're cemented in my mind

your border's ever present

and I just can't find the words

to help you listen to the things

that I need to be heard

so take whatever 's left of me

and wash it from your hands

my feet will find a path alone

without a home

without a plan

I may not know just what I need

but it isn't false security

falling from your wreckage

without a place to land

and my father and my mother

and my sister and my brothers

we've all danced this fine dance all our lives

taking every step

not to miss a beat

while our feet are being cut with tiny knives

and it hurts too much to bare

but everybody's there

just watching for your wounded feet to stumble

but with the weight of their eyes

and their ambivalent sighs

it takes all the strength I have to not just crumble

and I'm thinking as I'm spinning

going back to the begining

where we never really had a strong foundation

and though I tried to make it home

I see you'd rather be alone

and I'm sorry for the miscommunication.

she lives....

Alright, so despite the fact that I have been writing a lot recently, I haven't been near a computer except at work when I really ought to be working. Though this is true, I have still decided that tonight I'm going to delve into the archives a bit and publish some stuff that has been written at various points of my life so far. I really don't care if you like it.

-J.



Smoke

we burn their bodies
and release their spirits
... we breathe them in
they are the only ones
who have ever been
truly free
never having been owned by anyone
held for only seconds
they leave their impressions





Lover in the Sky

we met in the air
but you never
invited me back down again
bold in the eyes
of a new found old friend
we step together
into the familiar unknown
have we been here before
in another time
our story famed in folklore
juggling the pieces of our broken lives
we let them fall to the floor
and make love on their shards
as they soften into the petals
of flowers we picked
when we walked in eden
but it was never fruit nor snakes
which tempted me...
it was you all along
the way your lips part
to spill the sorrow of your song
your brutal truths
and the gentle features of your face
floating in space
the beauty of this moment
will put us in our place








Full Circle

blue clouds move in
threatening my spring
with winters bitter revenge
and sirens songs
never announced their intent so clearly
to crush great vessels
on jagged rocks
and the only way
that I can answer your call
is if I consent to being lost at sea...
submerged
broken
begging for mercy
until the cold water and I become one
and I rise as a tsunami
to drown your song
from my once thirsty ears








Closer

black ring
don't say a thing
your eyes will say it for you
this moment in time
this space
what uncouncious spell
brought you to this place
powers of the mind
passion of the flesh
do I need to bleed to feed you?
I'm not trying to mislead you
but honesty and deception are old lovers
hung up in one anothers strings
the most precious things
are our beautiful illusions
the stories we invent to justify them
and the old comforts we run to
when we can't believe it anymore
you don't need my permission
to penetrate the core










Perfect

this is exactly what I was trying to say
the world turns and I'm not in it
the world burns a fire that will put out the sea
I took it away from its original form
tried to be inside of it
instead of always outside looking in
I tried to make it revolve around me
like I could just reach out and touch the parts
Like I would change it all
I was the core
but it stopped....
it built up inside me
and clogged my arteries
and my body began to fall apart
cell by cell
begining in my mind
I left it behind
and I said in some foreign tounge
that this couldn't be the place
it had become red at the tide
blue around the edges
and it just wasn't me anymore
you know.....
it took me so long
a century or so I think
to get just where I am
and now the sky roars
with its various impressions
and I want more
and I think it will help me
to get
just a little bit further away







My Planetary Madness

walking in a fireside show
laughing
dreaming
caressing every thought I know
dancing in the moonlight glow

say no more
silence for the time being
it's the only way for me to be
speechless inside you
within you
deny you
aspire to guide you
with saturn beside you
turning black from your shadow

moon godess please
in times of need
lay by me
growing into my soul
what's that?
soul

lifeless now
determined to reach you somehow
counting the memories I've lost
in the moonlight

by the river
flowing through me
something new to me
counting on me to come through this
my planetary madness








hey you

against the blackest night sky
then you smiled at me
and I kicked up my feet
and I danced in the air to your rythm
and you sang to me
a cautious piece
you'd writen for your first love
and what was it again
that word you kept forgetting
I guess I forgot too.

I have but one more gypsy tent to sleep in
one more drug to keep me calm
one last fading memory of you
one more lie to hope for....
and did we ever figure out
just why cops gather like cockroaches
at twenty-four-hour convienince stores
I have one more question
I'm afraid to ask you now.

blown...

she's got her head in the clouds
she's looking for a dream
the kind that might just tell her where she's going
because things aren't always what they seem
and the truth is that there's just no way of knowing
so she'll walk on the air
and dance in the sun
and let the rain fall upon her till she's wet
she's found forgiveness in her heart
but in her mind she is still trying to forget
yes, I know that she seems strange
but there's something in her pain
that calls out for loving arms to just surround her
see her lost in the haze of a brilliant kind of craze
and though you've tried it seems you've never really found her
so, she's singing to you now
just to let it out somehow
'cause she really doesn't know where else to take it
and although she's growing tired
she finds herself inspired
and she knows it's not an option not to make it.

ants

Have you ever found a wounded wild animal and decided to take it home and nurse it back to health to eventually release it back into its habitat strengthened and ready for its next round of survival? Generally you find some kind of box to put it in, add a warm comfortable place to sleep, access to food and water, and a little area reserved for the creature to release its waste. Many of us do not stop there. We add a few rocks or leaves or plants to try to make the place resemble the animals natural habitat and make them feel more at home. Do we really belive that a few twigs and stones feels like nature?

I'm sitting in a public library in downtown Fresno.
Appearanty it is the only one in town, and it took me hours to find it.
Driving around this town I feel like that animal in it's box. This town has every thing you need I suppose, but something seems to be missing. I have yet to meet a person here who doesn't seem exhausted. There are tiny ants crawling all over my body from sleeping on the floor at my friends mom's house. One just crawled across my cheek.

I've been traveling for almost a week now with my friend Chrisopher Blue. We're both at a crossroads in our lives, and this trip has largely been a space for us look at our lives while standing at a distance from them. It's funny how the things that made me feel uncertain about leaving Seattle are starting to disolve the further away I get from it. I like being a stranger in a new town because it makes more sense than feeling like a stranger while surrounded by friends.

The ants that piled into my purse last night while I was sleeping are now emerging. I feel like one of those villans in a comic book whose power is derived from insects. I roll into town dressed all in black with ants crawling all over my body and surrounding areas.
I think I might be hungry.

Serendipity

Seven years ago when I was a student at Seattle Central Community College, I met a woman in the park across from school. Her and her partner at the time had just come down from BC and were living in the park. I sat on a blanket and ate lunch with her as she told me at least some of the details of her life that had led to that moment. She had fled an abusive marriage and was avoiding doing time for growing pot in California. Every time I saw her on the streets after that day, she was excited about something. She was constantly looking into programs that could help her find her feet again which is a challenging thing to do when you're disabled and homeless. I let her stay with me from time to time and have a shower and a bed, and brought her loads of food from the burrito joint I worked in at the time. In exchange she became this radiant karmic angel that would appear in my life when I needed her most. Like when I had suffered a severe head injury in a surfing accident and didn't have medical insurance. She found me crying on the curb outside the 45th street clinic and calmed me down. She gave me all the phone numbers I needed to find sliding scale medical care, convinced the nurse at the clinic that had refused me to let us use the phone, and even got me on the right bus so I wouldn't get lost. As she became a mother to all the motherless street kids on the hill, she never gave up her efforts to better her own circumstances. No matter what challenges were thrown her way, she always focused on the positive side of things. In fact, only once did I see her broken down. She had been looking into low income housing, and selling hemp jewlry on the streets to come up with the cash. But once all her work had finally paid off, she found she was fifty dollars shy of getting into a place. Now, at the time I was living off minimum wage plus tips... but I took a look at the situation. Fifty dollars to me meant that I would have to live off burrito joint scraps for a week or so. To her it was the difference between a place to live or a sidewalk. I gave her fifty bucks, and had a friend deliver an old futon I didn't need so she would have a bed. She had achieved the goal that had been consuming most of her energy, but she didn't stop there.
She grew in her jelwry making and was able to make enough to get by. Now with the basic needs of food and shelter mostly taken care of she focused on her health. She had surgery for pelvic cancer, got new braces for her deteriorating knees, and was even able to see a dentist. She cried when she smiled at me the first time with her new teeth. She said the smile had always been in her, it just wasn't represented on her face.... now she could show it to the world.
With all of this going on, most people wouldn't have the energy to take on much else... but most people aren't Mama Sara. She loved her street family and took their needs very seriously. She had been through the system so much that she was getting very skilled at doing paper work. She put her go getter attitude to work on forming a homeless youth advocacy group called PSKS (Peace for the Streets by Kids from the Streets) and runs a program called CHEW (Capital Hill Eats Well) which focuses on proper nutrition for homeless people in the area. She has become an active spokesperson and advocate for the homeless community and has appeared on several local and national television programs on the subject. When she walked into my station tonight to be interviewed for the Real Change program, we saw eachother and squeeled. I ran down the stairs and we embraced for about three minutes. I was so proud of her when I heard about all that she has accomplished since our paths last crossed. She was elated that I had graduated with a double degree and was using it to work for a non-profit community media center. I proposed that our organizations team up and teach street kids how to produce their own media messages to bring awareness to the issues that concern them most in their reality. Mama Sara has proven that you're voice can be your power.
It was really amazing for me to run into her tonight. The producers of the program were so touched by our reunion display that they asked me to come on the show and talk with Sara about how we met, and what we hoped to accomplish together in the future. I am excited for this new relationship. Tonight two people who met as a homeless woman and a fast-food worker exchanged buisness cards and made plans to treat ourselves to one anothers partnership in empowering a very disinfranchised group and adding a new perspective to the media. We truly are some BAD ASS Women!

crossroads

where are you tonight?
where are you tonight?
you're hiding from the light
of what you used to think was right
and you're walking around town
staring at the ground
trying to retrace
the steps that made you loose your place
and you're waiting just to wait
choking back the hate
that builds inside sometimes
when people make you loose your mind
and it all comes back to home
it's what you've always known
saddness with no end
the kind that makes you need a friend
and I'll be there for you
if you want me to

The past has come and gone
and you're feeling so alone
but somethings gotta give
you've got so much more life to live
it's ok to be afraid
but just let those feelings fade
it's always hard when you get started
to keep yourself from being disheartened
but I know you will make it
you've got what it takes kid

no need to turn around
your feet are on the ground
looking back won't do no good now
but ghosts still haunt your neighborhood
and you're leaving them behind
to find some peace of mind
things won't change but you'll grow stronger
you won't need their cure any longer
and I know you can do this
just put your heart to it




these words were taken from a song I wrote for a friend of mine who is going through some very real challenges in his life. I wish I could play it for him now, but I'm too shy to sing my little 3 chord diddy to a real musician.... at least for now. Anyway, I hope it helps. -Jill

paradise or a nuclear explosion?

There are dilemas in life that we could never have anticipated.
The heart has deeper capacity than most will ever feel.
Do we want to see ourselves in the eyes of another?
Do we want it to stir our physical being with a touch or a breath?
I've seen it in their eyes... the dark and the blue.
Watching me being me, watching them watching you.
Increasingly aware of the many sides of the number two...
I'm a goner in this lonely woman's battle for the front.
But I'm watching this race at my own little pace...
caught up in the haze of the truth that's kicked up.

today

Today I fell like a small tree on one of those little strips of nature that exist on interstate medians. I was put here to bring beauty and stillness to a fast-paced concrete world. But I don't belong here. I long to be around others like me in the wilderness. Would the commuters notice if I were gone? Perhaps.
But in my daily life I am overlooked. Once a beautiful thing in an ugly place, I am becoming covered in exhaust, and neglected by all but the rain. I long to shake my shallow roots free of this poisoned ground.

skeleton box

little box of death
you material thing
carved out of wood
dyed with black ink
inside your depths you held the cure
for life and all its suffering
the poison that you once secured
removed upon your offering
you laid in wait... collected dust
that settled between your bones
while skeletons called out to lure
a sick man to their catacombs
but even in his weakness
he found his will to live
he doesn't need to partake of
the things you have to give
he said it's hard to look at you
he's given you to me
I'll dust you off and find someone
who doesn't know your history
'cause if I kept you in my room
you might just start to sing
a siren of the after-life
whose song is a way out of being

a holiday greeting

Consumerism is killing us.
North Americans are the most horacious consumers on the planet.
The cost of our consumption is great.
Our air and our waters are poluted from industry.
Our beautiful suburban homes are built on land fill from years of wasteful ignorance.
Our lust for material validation keeps us in jobs we hate, and the more we aquire, the emptier it all feels.
But the new SUV in the drive way sure makes you look good to your neighbors.
Nevermind that wars are being fought, and people being killed over the very substance your monster requires in excess in order to perform it's ultimate purpose of shredding nature with its big ol' tires.
So where am I going with this?
Oh, that's right, it's Christmas time once again.
That festive time of year that started as a pagan celebration for the winter solctice, and later became renowned for the birth of "our lord" Jesus Christ (who I hear was actually born in the summer).
In many ways, Christmas has not changed much. It is still a time of intense rapture and worship.
In awe of the material gods, billions of people pay homage by sacraficing rolls of highly valued paper adorned with symbols of their culture.
I wonder how many single mothers go into debt every year to buy toys that their children will tire of in a month, but they absolutely had to have because the television babysitter that keeps them occupied while mom pulls a double shift to pay for it all won't stop screaming about it.
Do you know who makes those toys?
Little elves maybe?
Well, that's pretty close. I mean, they are little.
Children in sweatshops in third world countries will produce the majority of the products Americans will gobble up in the inevitable consumer binge that is December.
But Christmas is about more than that you say.....
It's about family, and charity, and good will towards all.
Well pardom me if I point out a little observation I've made.
It seems to me that the act of designating a time of year to celebrate the values of love and compassion serves as a good excuse for many to ignore these ideas for the rest of the year.
People who are hungry at Thanksgiving are often hungry in January and February, and March...
Where is your concern for these people then?
Can you even say hello when they ask you for your change? Can you?
And what about family?
Well, for all their strengths and weaknesses, I love my family....
but I'm not sure that only seeing them on Christmas is such a healthy pattern.
It has meant that I have only seen my family when I am broke, stressed, and usually sick.
We engage in meaningless ceremony that gets us no closer to who we really are and how we really feel than would watching old cartoons in silence. We usually end up fighting like whinny toddlers in desperate need of a nap over little things that represent larger deeply rooted issues that are inherant in our family dynamic.
This year I am going to spend some time with my best friend in wine country instead. I am going to buy several small canvasas and some oil-pastels and charcoals and make a unique piece of art for those who are dearest to me, and ask that unless you find yourself creating something with me in mind, please no gifts this year.
The path I am on is asking me to lighten my load, and rid myself of attachment to material things.

check out these inpirational web-sites.

-Jill

http://www.adbusters.org/metas/eco/bnd/bnd_xmas/

http://adbusters.org/home/

http://www.adbusters.org/metas/eco/bnd/

my reading

I just got this little free reading online. It's pretty amazing to me how accurate it is. Just curious if other people who know me find it to be so. Anyway, check it out! -Jill


For you, Jillian, this lifetime revolves upon the theme of experiencing your emotional depths, and penetrating the surface of life to explore the hidden, dark, secret or taboo. What lurks in the shadows or in the inner depths of the human soul is what concerns you, and it is your task to become aware of and express what you find hidden there. What society at large may fear or repress, you are fascinated with and drawn to experience and understand. This may include both a fear of and absorption with death and the mysterious side of life, delving into the politics of sexuality and power and experiencing strong, "dark" emotions such as passion, jealousy, revenge or a desire for control. At times you may feel like a misfit… that your yearnings, desires, and true inclinations are somehow wrong or bad, or even that you are bad. You could take on a social persona which is dark and hints at something sinister (such as always wearing black, going out only at night...). However, your feeling for the dark undercurrents of life and your drive to experience life passionately and intensely, without avoiding any of it, may be expressed less overtly. You are attracted to crisis, those transition times in life when people are tested, when their social masks do not matter anymore, and the true person is revealed. You may feel most alive and most yourself in life and death situations, whether you are involved in saving lives (as a doctor or healer), in destroying them (as in war), or simply by seeking out dangerous situations and dangerous companions. Often you will create your own crisis (especially in the arena of your close personal relationships) in order to pit yourself against the challenge. Other people may view this as a self-destructive urge in you, Jillian, a masochistic (or sadistic) streak. The truth is you would rather feel pain, than to feel nothing at all. You want to be fully immersed in it, deeply and passionately involved. (Life for you is not a spectator sport).

the things I couldn't say

You've given up on things
that I still need to believe in
You've relinqueshed all your power
let apathy creep on in
No longer charmed by magic
your brilliance has grown tired
I wish I could have known you
when you were still inspired
Sometimes I see it in your eyes
then you drown it with a drink
and close your mind to new ideas
that hurt too much to think
You closed your heart off to a love
that would have proven true
when all she ever wanted
was to bring life back to you.
You're beautiful... and lost it seems
still claiming to be found
I'm trying to call out to you
but my breath can't form the sound
You said that you were feeling bad
and when I asked you why
you said it's because I sounded so sad
It's your hopelessness that makes me cry
'Cause you talk so big about things you would do
if your head found the right space
while you shelter yourself from the things that move you
and exhaust yourself by running in place
So you'll "do the right thing," and settle on in
to a life devoid of passion
but if you ever change your mind
I hope you'll find me once again
'Cause I think that we could break the rules
that feel wrong to obey
and turn the things we really feel
into the words we say
For now I have to let you go
I only wished to love you
Please know that it's already so
and that I'm thinking of you.

see also.....

check out: http://www.voicesinwartime.org/voicesinwartime/
for more new poetry by Jillian Rood.

lost and looking

I didn't know where I was
when I woke from my last dream.
I can barely hold together
what is fraying at the seams.
And I want to find a place to sleep
where chilling winds won't find me.
Where ghosts of memories have no more
power to remind me
where magic in the air will carry
the thoughts born in my head
to warm your lonely body
shivering in it's lonely bed.
And while the pain I'm feeling
calls out for reliefe,
dams show signs of spilling
from the pressure of my grief.
I walk softly in the aftermath,
the ground has turned to mud.
The only thing that's messier
is the status of my love.
And I don't know what I'm doing
or which direction's up.
The words I need to live have drown
in the bottom of my coffee cup.
And I'm looking for the strength to rise
to lead my own resistance.
But when clouds block the light from finding my eyes
I can't even be sure of my own existance.
And I might just up and leave this place.
if I do, don't be surprised.
I'll rest my bones untill my soul
has finally been re-energized.
And when I emerge from the wood work
with something that will blow your mind,
finally you'll realize
we're two of the same kind.
And as our bodies disintigrate
we're approaching our own death,
we'll shake the earth with every step
make wind with every breath.
And we'll find the beauty of our lives
from here until the grave
not in the things that we took from this world,
but in the love and the art that our two hearts gave.

not just a man.

So on it goes
with a thought and a spin
weaving a yarn
just to write ourselves in
and our dreams are the lives
we put upon our pages
and whispered spells of fantasies
to summon our internal mages.....
Don't make light of me lover
because you know as well as I do
the fires that you need to burn
ignite from the things that inspire you
things that leave traces
like golden thread on pillows
a strain in your head
my sweet scent in your bed
it's in my nature to desire you.
I won't apologize for what's there
lurking in my heart
but the love that you betrayed must end
if this love is to start
and I think it might be plain to see
our spirits that are suffering
just might find something together
that we couldn't find apart.

what do you want?

So I was standing in my kitchen this morning relating a current romantic fantasy to an ex lover. I can't say how the conversation got to where it did... but he looked at me and asked me, "so is that what you really want?" When I couldn't answer a firm positive, he scoffed and muttered something about how women never really know what they want. What I'm not convinced of, is that "what do you really want" is a fair question. To answer such a question firmly means that there is one outcome to your current set of circumstances that you would find most favorable. One situation that would make you happy, and an infinity of regretful ones. If I don't know what I want it is because I have come to understand that getting to what you most desire in life is a process. There is no instant gratification. Genuine fulfilment takes effort. I also know that getting closer to realizing your dreams is a long journey, and journeys are designed to change us along the way. I know that the things I desire most will change as my journey brings me closer to them. If I don't know what I want, it's because the context of the question contrasts so deeply with the perspective of the ultimate answer. The only place to go from here is to accept being lost and take joy in it. I'd rather be lost in a forest than find myself in a prison. And lost people can often find themselves in one another. Let's all change our assosiations. Lost, found... free or bound. What will it be Jack?

sitting down to write a eulogy

With all the death I have experienced in my life, I have still never writen a eulogy that has satisfied me. No set of words arranged in some particular order have ever been able to convey what I feel inside when I loose someone I love. I've written plenty about broken hearts, but those heal with time, and writing about them is just part of that process. But you never really heal from death...... at least I never have.

There are two people inside me looking out at the world and often staring intently at one another. There is the writer, and the emotional self. The writer has been guilty more than once of subjecting the emotional self to people or situations that will be difficult for her to endure for the sake of good material. In fact the writers exploitation of the emotional self is at times almost criminal. Still, the emotional self is not defenseless. In the most extreme of circumstances, the emotional self has mastered the art of denial. She simply refuses to feel the emotions that give the writer her sense of depth and ritchness. The writer is unable to perform without access to these feelings, so when the emotional self shuts down, the writer becomes weak and helpless.
But without the writer, those tender feelings have no voice. She may close up out of stubborness, but ultimately she knows that she must open up to the writer again if she ever is to heal. For as much as they battle one another at times, ultimately they find they need one another. In fact, their co-dependancy has served as a terrible example for my own relationships.

We can see it taking place as I write.
I sat down to write a eulogy for my dog Angie who was put down due to severe suffering on Friday. I meant to write it that day. I meant to write it the next day. I intended to write it now.
But when I sat down, I realized that all I have access to are memories of her, but no feelings. I know she deserves better than this. I know my father deserved better than that horrible patchwork of moments and dull sentiment that I read at his funeral. I know my friend mojo deserved better than that half-assed poem I read to a room full of half drunk college kids. Ed's suicide left me with nothing but a bad metaphore about a train ride. The writer is now asking herself "what the fuck is wrong with me?"

So I intervene. I ask that the two make ammends and learn to be good for one another. But the emotional self is wounded and has trouble trusting the writer. At last she recognizes that the exchange could be a good release for her, and says that the writer should start with the memories, and perhaps some sentiment will be attached.
The writer is understanding, being fully aware of the pain she has created. She bows in acceptance of anything the emotional self is willing to give.


to be continued. ...........