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shannonymous's Blog


here for your pleasure

I look down at the white haze of my kitty sleeping in my arms. His paws are twitching slightly. So is the tip of his curled up tail. I wonder what he is dreaming about as I recover my own distinction between reality and dreams.

I wonder if he is happy. I gave him a bath yesterday that I know he wasn't that happy about, but now he looks pretty calm. I think about how wild he is, how he might fare perfectly fine without me, unlike the dog I once I had. Now I think back to the memory of her, how great a pair we were, how well we understood each other in spite of the language differences. And I think about her dying, how i fell short on our mutual pact that we serve as each other's providers of joy and protectors to the best of our ability.

I think about the boys who dote on me and tell me how much I mean to them, how happy I make them. I think about how sad they are when I tell them that they are not quite the same thing to me and that I only want to be friends. I think about my worth as a girl to society and what these boys see me as, something to bring pleasure.

Then I think about why I was born. A mistake born out of the search for momentary pleasure. Kept out of the search for lasting pleasure, or happiness. I think about how different I am from what my mom wants me to be, about her obvious displeasure and disappointment. I feel like I didnt bring her all that she wished i'd bring. That her hope for a better life turned sour and her seeds of happiness never blossomed.

I was born to bring happiness, and brought up for that purpose my whole life, but it seems impossible for me. How can I make others happy when I cant even make myself happy? How is it possible to bring pleasure to everyone when it seems im such a displeasure and disgrace to those who matter?

the wake of a boy

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Love Me

A lonely speck of dust in a desert of sand cries out in the desolate landscape. This place is the no man's land of love. Everything alive here simply dies - no, not simply, but tragically. Life screams with every ounce of it's own self that it can purge forward. It says "help me." It says "love me, please!" But it comprehendeth not to whom it cryeth out. And the desert hath no ears to hear its pleas, no heart to respond to its love and desire for life in kind. The desert is a lonely silence, one's own futile echo reverberating within until it can reverberate no more because the walls of one's mind have crumbled under the repetitive strain.

penis envy

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rejection song

I said you were worthy of my love.
I let my guard down just enough
to let you in, to see my dark.
But you got scared and broke my heart.

I thought you were the special kind
of love that is so hard to find,
but you made sure that it was clear
that kind of love would not be here.

And you should know how hard it is
to change a heart that beats like this.
To pull away from everything
I thought that you could be for me.

So now that you have left my side
some days are grim, but some are bright.
And I am learning how to live
without the love you will not give.

Captivate this Town

You're gonna captivate this town.
You're gonna make it your home.
Ain't nothin' wrong with that,
And you'll never be alone.

And in some ways I'm kinda jealous of you.
And in some ways I kinda wonder why you settle so.

Because, if it were me
walking in your shoes.
If I got to steer. If I got to choose.
I wouldn't go that way.
I wouldn't drive that road.
But some of us just want different things you know?

You're gonna captivate this town.
You're gonna make it your own.
It already loves you now.
Just wait 'til later on.

Oh, you're gonna go so far in this little ol' town,
as far as it will let you go before it lets you down.

But if it were me
walking in your shoes.
If I got to steer. If I got to choose.
Between your life strategy:
Just stick with what you know.
Just stay right where your roots are laid. Well, I'd rather grow.

You're gonna captivate this town.
You're gonna make it your home.
You're gonna lie and settle down
while I wander and roam.

Me, I've been planning my escape for a while now.
Workin' out the ifs and buts, and the when and how.

I'm not thinking about you or anything

I'm not thinking about you.
I just wrote this little song about you.
Just 'cause I've been doin' some reflectin' lately
Not about you or anything, just some introspectin' lately.

I promise you barely ever cross my mind, 
just like .01% of the time,
and only then by simple happenstance.
After all, coincidences happen every now and then.

I swear you're nothin' but a one time fling.
Fact is I'm having trouble just remembering
not 'cause it's hard or makes me cry inside.
In fact, you won't believe how easy it is to hide.
All of my new-found friends could tell you that,
if you were ever around to ask.

But I swear I'm not torn up or anything about it.
Doin' fine and swell and swear I'm not the type for baggage.
I don't know you or what we had back then.
It started in my head and I guess that's where it ends.

Oh, these crazy thoughts I sometimes get.
Oh, you can't put any stock in them.
And oh, it doesn't matter. Who are you? What is this?
You drive me crazy, but you don't even exist.

And yeah, I bet you didn't know I've got a boyfriend now.
I think you may have, might have said somethin' 'bout how
I'd never find a guy who'd put up with my shit.
He kinda looks like you and talks like you, but isn't.

And, hey, crazy thought, but now it seems to me like this
is kinda what you always wanted from me, yes?
That I'd be cool and have a life and not be pissed
or better yet man up and take it like a piss.

So here I am, the dream girl you dreamed I could be
when you went on a limb and dreamed I'd not be me.
I know you think I think about you all the time, 
but if you'd see me now, you'd know I'm doin' fine.

Test

Do you ever get that feeling that life is just one big test? A test to see what you are willing and able to learn. A test of character. Like if only you are perceptive enough and listen, you will learn what life is teaching you. Like if only you stop being a douche and doing things the way YOU want, then you can be taught the RIGHT way to do it and be HAPPY.

What Guys Don't Get About Girls

We really are just as gross and perverse as you, we just don't show it off. As women, we've been trained from birth to be dainty and elegant creatures. We've been led to believe that women who are able to successfully portray a picture of ethereal and other-worldly perfection are what we should always strive to be. Nevermind the fact that women's shit scientifically stinks even WORSE than men's, we must lead the world in the facade that it doesn't stink at all, or that we in fact don't have any. :)

We are also just as horny as you. Ok, so maybe not all of us are extremely horny, but news break, not all guys are either, even if they play it up and claim to be. And also maybe there are more perfectly rational and understandable reasons why a woman would NOT want to have sex and a man would; the first that comes to my mind is the stigma that we attach to promiscuous women vs. the approval we bestow unto promiscuous men (i.e. men who are able to trick women into having sex with them according to that old hardheaded tradition that women don't *really* like sex). The second reason that comes to mind is how un-sexy most men are, maybe it's because of the media telling me that sexy is female, but in any case, men are just not really that sexy. Don't get me wrong, I love the male gender and am only a bit bicurious, but the epitome of manhood is to be completely unconcerned with such frivolous things such as attractiveness and agreeability, and yet still be able to get a hottie...and that's just plain unrealistic unless you also happen to be rich.

It makes me laugh, how twisted this all is...how women who embrace their natural human bodily functions and desires are deemed unnatural perversions of womanhood, while those who suppress it are deemed the highest honor women are allowed to achieve, a prime piece of ass, though of course that's degrading, why don't we just call her girlfriend material? Guys might be amazed at the places their minds and bodies have the audacity to take them, but they'd be even more so if they were to realize that this is not the (natural) difference between men and women. 

pride and ego

"I'm better than all these people," my subconscious self silently whispers. It is so soft that I hardly ever hear it above the noise-chatter of my everyday thoughts. "I'm better than you," it says about the black girl with the gaudy tiger-face leggings and glasses. "I'm better than you," it says about the middle-aged woman with the pudgy belly getting a pedicure, her white unappealing legs on display while she reads an article in a magazine filled with women she could only ever wish to look like and occasionally sips on something in a wine glass set beside her. "I'm better than you," it says about people who follow trends and the herd mentality and who ignorantly reveal their cliche opinions. "I'm better than you," it says of the guy who can't spell or define simple words and who maybe has never read an actual news article in his life. "I'm better than you," it says of the raving religious lunatic crying of embryos and fetuses while supporting things anyone who calls themself "pro-life" should never support. "I'm better than you!" it exclaims with joy when it realizes that that girl I've been jealous of will never experience beauty in quite the same way that I do, and that, of course, my way is unquestionably better! "I'm better than you too!" it says with a victorious smirk, of the friend who crassly makes fun of me, when I realize why they do is not because they are better, but because they are insecure of not being good enough. "I'm better than you," it says of the pretty face relegated to nothing more than the pride of being a teenage mother and of having a mediocre job and a mediocre husband, the american dream; "that's so stupid!" it blurts out uncontrollably, unfiltered by the conscious censor of being better than to say such things as that. 

self-worth

I don't like your North Face jacket.
I don't like your online personality.
700 friends, 650 more than me.
I don't care about your life-changing trip to Africa.
I don't care about your sports trophies or how you were valedictorian and had the highest ACT score at your school.
I don't care about the charities you donate to regularly or your weekly volunteering stints.
I don't care if you've dated more girls than you can count and all of them said you were amazing in bed
or if you've been in a relationship since you were ten
or if you've never been turned down a job before or been unemployed.
If these are the things that matter then I'm screwed.
If these are the things that make people worthwhile and worthy of praise, then I deserve none.
If this were true then this feeling that I am good and the reasons why would all be false. I would have no reason to hold my head up, no reason to have any esteem at all, but I do. Why do I?

warm

It jumps to me
with open arms.
It's meant to be
no cause for alarm.

It screams to me
It calls my name.
It's what I need
to ease this pain.

It says it's right.
It feels just like
the sun, the rain.
It's home to me.

Isn't it slightly funny...

...how most of the time how people would describe themselves is not at all accurate? I think so.

(un)stuck

cataloging life
so that you don't forget
who you are
what it all meant (to you)
once upon a time.

That time will be remembered
as ink on a page,
while the essence of it fades,
it wasn't good enough to stick.

Forcing it to fit where it doesn't fit
Pushing your life into what you think it needs to be...
trying to make it stick to some other people's memories
to leave an impression
something to say you were here
you existed
once upon a time

And the things that you were made of
they're right here on this line.
on this page
in this ink that won't stick
It just keeps washing away 
and burning in the light of day
maybe it's not meant to stay.


The fears I never overcame

The pitch black precipice. 

The deep and heavy water.

The shame.

The hiding game.

The fears that I remember.

The fears I never overcame.

If it's true that true love don't exist

I don’t want to be your second best.
I don’t want to be who you settle for.
I don’t want to compromise on this
Even if we never find what we’re looking for.

If it’s true that true love don’t exist
I’d rather just pretend.
If it’s true that love no longer lives
Then grant me just this wish,
And let me just hold onto this.

I don’t want to be your backup plan
For when things don’t go right.
I don’t want to do this ‘cause we can
Or ‘cause it gets us through the night.

If it’s true that true love don’t exist
I’d rather just pretend.
If it’s true that love no longer lives
Then grant me just this wish,
And let me just hold onto this.

‘Cause I don’t want no second best.
And there’s no way I’m gonna settle for it.
And I won’t compromise on this
Even if I die searchin’ for it.

And I don’t want no backup plan
For when things don’t go right.
Don’t want no “just because we can”
Or ‘cause you get me through the night.

And if it’s true that true love don’t exist
I’d rather just pretend.
If it’s true that love no longer lives
Then grant me just this wish,
And let me just hold onto this.

1.0

They say that they have computers today that are many times faster and more powerful than the human brain. It makes me sad to think that maybe we've lost that title to our names, the most intellectual things that ever existed. Now we are in second place. And it makes me sad to think we've been replaced by humanoid 2.0, a faster, smarter version of ourselves that we could never be. It makes me long for the superior knowledge a being like that must be privy to. And I worry that what inspires me in life is just the average daily reality for these, nothing special. And I wonder what it must be like, what grand things they must have access to with their superior minds, what things I'll never be able to know because I'm just a 1.0.

Like a crackhead, I write

Like a crackhead, I write, I collect, I record,
I organize and reorganize all that I've stored.
I seek beauty in all spaces.
And to miss just one would mean devastation.

You can't just assume I could stop if I wanted.
It's like a disease, incurable, honest.
A kind of OCD or psychotic delusion, 
that I can find beauty in all this confusion.

So I write and collect and record, 
I organize and reorganize all that I've stored
in hopes that one day it will all make some sense, 
that perhaps this insanity will cease to exist.

I search and I find and I don't let go,
I keep it up carefully like walking tight-rope.
I religiously sweep away all the things that don't matter
and religiously keep those treasured encounters.

I place them up on an altar, of which I have thousands
to adore and admire in each their own houses.
And eventually what stood once so perfect in placement
will be torn down and destroyed in sacrificial defacement.

Why do I use EP?

I use EP to express myself in ways that I can't elsewhere. This is why I believe it is acceptable to be such a bitch on here whereas in rl I usually keep my mouth shut about most everything.

I use EP to share the things that I need to share but that I don't think other people in my life want or need to hear/know about. I use EP to vent, to share my mediocre poetry/songwriting/singing/stories, to just be random sometimes, to share secrets (of course), and sometimes just to put my ever-evolving ideas down somewhere concrete, so as to make them more real.

I use EP sometimes when I need help, when I need company, when I just need to get to a better place. I use EP when I have something I want to say, but no one to listen. I use EP as a place to write about me (primarily). Yes, very self-centered, I know, but better here than in rl. I use EP as a place for growth, a place to find myself, who I really am. I use EP as a place to get away from my rl relationships which define me in a multitude of different ways, none of which gives a complete picture of who I really am. Sometimes these inchoate representations of me become overwhelming.

Sometimes I worry that these representations of me will always be so off the mark from who I really am, so narrowly defined and limiting, so oversimplified and stereotyped, that no one will ever really understand me as a person. I suppose that is how it is for everyone to some extent, never quite 100% understood by anyone. I suppose I have to forgive people for just judging from what they can see as outsiders. And that is what I use EP for, to cope, and maybe even to hope that one day this person who exists in all these various aspects, some of which I keep private from anyone in rl, may one day be able to be set free, to someone or maybe even more than one someone who is willing to listen. Or it may never be, but what else can I do?

just a lil poem about life

It's easier to navigate this world each passing day.
And I'm learning more and more with each one of my mistakes.
Every wrong directioned turn narrows down the way.
And this path that leads to darkness slowly will illuminate.

While I mosey on through madness and the steps beneath my feet
Carry me on always further 'cause behind me looks so bleak,
And each flower along the way I will surely stop to breathe, 
Inhaling in the essence of the beauty in all things.

And as I look around me at times to see what all there is
I see a forest full of nameless things in a fog of cloud and mist.
And as the time drags me down this neverending narrative
I wonder where am I going and what's the point of all this?

Though on this temporary trail where I know not where I'm going
The goal is learning for the sake of loving learning, rather than for fear of never knowing.
And on this trail that grows brighter with each day of growing,
I'll carry on toward that dark dawn each one of us is loathing
With one eye on my ever-moving feet and the other one just roaming.

1-20 of 134 Blogs   

Previous Posts
here for your pleasure, posted July 6th, 2014
the wake of a boy, posted July 6th, 2014
Love Me, posted June 3rd, 2014
penis envy, posted April 19th, 2014, 4 comments
rejection song, posted March 11th, 2014
Captivate this Town, posted March 3rd, 2014
I'm not thinking about you or anything, posted February 18th, 2014
Test, posted February 7th, 2014
What Guys Don't Get About Girls, posted January 20th, 2014
pride and ego, posted January 13th, 2014, 4 comments
self-worth, posted November 22nd, 2013
warm, posted October 29th, 2013
Isn't it slightly funny..., posted July 22nd, 2013, 3 comments
(un)stuck, posted July 5th, 2013
The fears I never overcame, posted July 1st, 2013, 1 comment
If it's true that true love don't exist, posted June 25th, 2013
1.0, posted June 3rd, 2013, 3 comments
Like a crackhead, I write, posted May 18th, 2013, 1 comment
Why do I use EP?, posted May 15th, 2013, 2 comments
just a lil poem about life, posted May 11th, 2013
ruminations of the day (the third installment), posted May 11th, 2013
more ruminations, posted May 11th, 2013
shannonymous' inner ruminations 5/11/13, posted May 11th, 2013
another look, posted May 4th, 2013
shhh, posted April 29th, 2013, 2 comments
sensible, posted April 28th, 2013, 2 comments
****, posted April 23rd, 2013
loner, posted March 23rd, 2013, 1 comment
You're not a mind reader you say?, posted March 3rd, 2013
value judgement, posted February 22nd, 2013
the quest for something, posted February 22nd, 2013, 4 comments
Phoenix, posted February 17th, 2013
do you see what I see?, posted February 16th, 2013
fantasy vs. reality, posted February 14th, 2013
I know it sounds cliche, posted February 4th, 2013, 2 comments
grandpa, grandpa, grandpa, posted January 28th, 2013, 6 comments
trojan horse, posted January 25th, 2013
detour, posted January 21st, 2013
1/6/13, posted January 6th, 2013
please, tell me who i am, posted December 29th, 2012, 6 comments
This isnt about you!, posted December 28th, 2012
Relationships are like..., posted December 18th, 2012, 2 comments
not used to being free, posted December 11th, 2012, 2 comments
12/9/12, posted December 9th, 2012
A little bit Lolita, posted December 9th, 2012
the formation of substance, posted November 28th, 2012
fuel my fire, posted November 28th, 2012, 2 comments
trick, posted November 28th, 2012
You want a girl who lives to please, posted November 10th, 2012, 7 comments
I can't do it all, posted November 7th, 2012
1-50 of 140 Blog Posts   

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