When Chantara was feeling triggered the world and everyone it was behind fifty feet of glass. Loving bonds became inaccessible. In this mode she had to take great care not to damage bonds of love, the relationships and people who were everything to her heart and soul. For in time the glass disappeared and her love returned. She wish she could stop the triggering, but if feel unprotected or left to fend for myself it returns - it is survival mode, cold and indifferent. Yet even in those times she was still able to cognisant of her morality. She could still make good choices. She could still imagine what the better version of her would want her to do and then carry that out. I can't undo the trauma she had been through, but can adapt and overcome.When she was at her lowest, when others took not what she could afford to give, but all that she was. When her health began to fail because they took so much in an emotionally indifferent and manipulative way, anger saved my life. She got ang
"If I ever cross my heart... if I ever betray my heart and anger it... then I hope to die. For in this life my heart is my pure heaven-ward guide. To those I love, to the world I love, to my true life mission and path... I must be faithful, protective and nurturing. I'd rather be dead than do deeds for the evil force. So, you see, I didn't sell my soul because it is already owned by my creator and in that commitment I feel safest and best."Those rough hands were my medication, my heart-song and my light, for that is love. Love compacts the senses, and as when stardust so compacted in the universe, a new star is born with its own gravity and radiant light.Her love is a unicorn, but he never believed in unicorns, and so that was both the start and end of their story. Somethings are only real if you believe that they are.Her love is a unicorn, but he never believed in unicorns, and so that was both the start and end of their story. Somethings are only real if you believe that they are.
I grab my softest sweater, my favourite, and ball it up. I bend down, arranging my face into something I hope is friendly, then wrap his arms around it. He holds it while I walk away to the vault. I have the pills to arrange and store. On my return he is in the exact same spot, his arms still hugging a sweater that lies cold on his feet. I'm such a shit. He's in total shock and I'm arranging my wares. This is why he needs a mom, not some hopeless teen. I go back to him and pick him up just like I did in the old train. At first he is stiff but then he melts into my body, his arms limp, dangling like a doll. Without being aware of it my left hand rises to stroke his back. Then he begins to cry softly, wetting my shirt. I thought kids were supposed to cry loudly, not this guy apparently, he cries like an old man beaten down with sorrow.In this life you make me stable, then you pull every little thing from beneath my feet and are indifferent to the fact that I can no longer stand - until
The money-nexus reward manipulative behaviours and these can manifest in personal relationships as a societal cancer.Being manipulative is wearing the team jersey and playing only for yourself. In doing that you cheat yourself of the loving bonds and support a team can provide, of all the good feelings that make living so incredible.Manipulation can be a "flash bang," the moment they drop a bomb they create the most attractive "smoke and mirrors" they can conjure.There are some that play games of "relationship chess." It's a game for morons. Relationships are all about loving bonds, trust and being giving. They are about nurture and being protective. The only way you can have any of those things is to get off the board and be real, be vulnerable, be soulful with the one you love. There are times a manipulative person has forced me onto the board, to play it their way, yet I am also not on the board at all. These are my Schrödinger's cat moments. I am there and not. When the "game i
Though we can love our traditions, of dresses, suits and rings, the marriage happens long before in the quiet moments of these star-united lovers.Their marriage was written in their eyes the first day they met, not a thing of human-kind nor laws, yet existed as if the universe had brought together two souls that were already betrothed.A marriage is a deep and loving friendship, one in which the love is so strong that each would sacrifice for the other, one that sex gets added to. So the only way to a lasting and happy marriage is via friendship. So take it slow, get to know the other person fully, be best friends.... and save the sex for marriage... because when you do that you'll find that humans mate for life and it is a sure way to a joyful way of living. The alternative is exposing yourself to the risks of sexually transmitted disease as potential partners "try you out" in non-committal ways. This is because you didn't take the time to be best friends first... that you got addic
In the twilight yawn of heaven's black rose two tall trees of sombre peeking green, their tops a round as if drawn in mathematical precision. And as I gazed at them for a blessed moment, the kind that could be any length at all in the twinkle of eternity, I saw the eyes of an owl, great and wise. Before I could breathe another, before my brain was capable of any other notion, I was behind those green owl eyes in the sky looking down upon the black-cradled ground. For these were the eyes that watched all the galaxies in the dominion of love, the ones that belong to our guardian, our God. And to them I was a speck, safe and happy, so at home there in the sky, there in a place that touches our reality and yet belongs to another.The vision? Tell the vision? Tell of what we dream will be? To show the vision, to tell the vision, we will need a tell-he-vision show, naturally, my dear Watson.From the beauty of the dreamscape, in the place between the thoughts and the movies of the nighttime
The day I stopped believing that you loved me, that you would protect me in the same ways I protect you, we were over. The relationship breakup was set in motion from that point onwards.Once I ran through fire for you; now my love for you is ashes. The wind catches it every day, a macabre confetti. All I do is wait for your anger and watch more fly away, cinders that should have been petals in softest pink."The man you were, the one I married, would have kicked your ass all over this God damn room for talking to me like that. You were someone. You were that guy, the one who had the principles and the backbone."The past few days were nothing but fun, but they were only that way because I gave you everything you wanted... and we both know you got everything. Then you destroyed me with your words, found every perceived fault. When I failed to acquiesce you got more angry and became entrenched. You think yourself better than the 'one night stand' guys, and in many ways, you are. But yo
The confessing codes need a master to handle them. They cannot be interpreted by one who is an amateur of the craft. Everybody confesses everything, their deepest crimes and fears in everyday language. For a code-breaker it is simple to follow the trail and expose them all. Gemma was one of the linguists who could break them. Some saw what she did as magic, yet in truth she was partnered to the positive universe, a tool of the divine force and saw nothing special in herself. She was as natural as the trees and the fish in the oceans. Yet in the "junk" speech, the ad libs and the stories people tell, in their creative flourishes, there are clues. Much is actually junk, fears of nothing and misplaced guilt, yet a master such as her could tell what was real because the universe placed flags only she could detect, shone lights that only she could see. It was as if her soul shone a black light and the criminals were marked in some invisible ink. She was the ultimate detective, the one sent