Another Day.

I am fucking strong.  I will fight.  I will strike.  I will find a way through this.
I seek clarity in the hazy fog of the unknown.
I simply need a focused mission, and I will tear down walls and bleed out for the cause.

Point me in the right direction.  I will be there.
Show me where the battle will be fought.  I will plan.
Give me an enemy to strike.  I will destroy.

I am a vicious warrior.
A cunning strategist.
Though I am nothing when I'm blinded and my hands are tied.

I don't quit the field.
Unless my superiors give up and throw in the towel.
And hand the victory to another.

I've lost more times than I can count.
Layered in scars and mud.
I still rise from the ashes of the burning fields.

To fight another day.
And another.
~K.

Battles Lines Unknown

A warrior's reflexes snap into action.  A ghost? A game? No matter.  Instincts ready to strike and destroy.  My need to fight rages to be free, yet there's nothing in front of me to engage.  I pace my perimeter in solitary reflection.  Unsated violence vibrates beneath my skin.

Anger and frustration burn.

I hear hounds barking, but I can not fight the intangibles of life.  I must simply survive as always.  Give me an enemy I can defend against, a cause I can fight for.  Not unwavering elements that wear at the soul.  Not bad dreams and unexplainables.

Adrenaline floods my veins even as I'm told to stand down and put down my armor and weapons.  I cut myself on my own blade even as I try not to strike out.  Do I even have what it takes to survive any more?  Do I even know how to defend myself?  Do I know how to fight for those I love?

Confusion muddies a warrior's trained and expert responses.  Who I am?  Where is her place?  What is her purpose?  Are her instincts so very twisted that she can no longer see where enemies truly lie in wait? Where is the battleground I must defend?

I doubt myself and my nature as I hold a hungry blade in my bloody palm.
~K.

Maybe it's because...

Nope.  I don't like me like this either.  Cold.  Emotions at a distance.  Protective.  Ready to cut and slice.  I don't know how I got here.  Maybe it was just the soft sides going to sleep for a little while after so long struggling to find any room to breathe as we climbed down Everest.  Maybe the hard side hasn't had a chance to run.  Maybe it's the upcoming unknown unorganized transition.  Maybe it's the dumb shit I can't explain.  Maybe it's my past and demons and the similarities.  Maybe it's just that I want to be held so damn tight so I don't potentially fall on my fucking face and splinter into a million pieces.  Maybe I smoke too much.  Maybe I resent the fuck outta the fact that my peace was ripped from me so thoroughly there's little chance to ever regain it and feel like it's home.  Maybe it's that in a way I really have no home right now.  Maybe it's  the knowledge that if there are lies, I've already lost.  Maybe I just need to kick someone's fucking ass.  Maybe it's that I'm not use to winning, succeeding, making it, becoming more.  Maybe I'm afraid I could fail one more damn time and truly find myself with nothing but broken dreams and scraps of shattered hopes. Maybe it's hormones or pre-menopause. Maybe I'm a little lost because the big push is over, and the slow less stressful push leaves me a little lost and aimless.  Maybe I just want to be wanted with a viciousness that borders on criminal.  Maybe I'm just sick to fucking death of stupid bitches being in my space.  Maybe it's that I'm not eating right.  Maybe I just miss being the one turned to.  Maybe I wonder if I'm being left behind.  Maybe I'm just jealous of fun stuff they get while I'm stuck in work and no play.  Maybe I need fucked long and hard repeatedly until exhaustion takes me.  Maybe I'm sick of stalkers and takers.  Maybe I'm insecure as fuck.  Maybe I'm just a violent, nasty, pissed off bitch that wants to rage at the world.  Maybe I just flat out miss having some place, space, chance to be a little girl, a slut, and woman.  Maybe I just need sunshine and Spring.  Maybe I miss my Mustang.  Maybe I hold too much value in being claimed absolutely and without question in every way possible in an age when everyone does there best not to be responsible or be vulnerable or be accountable.  Maybe I just need out of these four walls.  Maybe I need a big huge fire to rage like an inferno at my feet.  Maybe I ache from hoping too much.  Maybe I'm afraid of wanting too much outta this life.  Maybe I just need to fly and crash to the Earth.  Maybe I'm scared as fuck that I don't know what the fuck I'm doing or what, where, when, how the next few weeks are going to go.  Maybe I just want to make sense of a crazy world.  Maybe it's just that the music isn't fucking loud enough.

Maybe I just needed to write.
~K.

My goodreads Review for Benders

Benders by Mark Eric
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The first time I read Benders I couldn't stop smiling. Monty and Mieko charmed me immediately with their banter. I loved their story and adventure. Mieko also ROCKS as she's a woman I can absolutely relate to! Throughout the story...I cried. I laughed. I even growled a time or two. I held my breath and raced through pages. Benders will always have a place in my heart. It was a fun and enjoyable read with thrills, action, drama, and friendships we all crave. I look VERY forward to Mark Eric's next novel and a long career of storytelling.

View all my reviews

Today Was Not The Day I Wanted

There was FINALLY a break in the damn weather today.  It was beautiful.  I knew it was coming, and I desperately wanted to enjoy it. However that was not the day I had today.  A horrible night of no sleep led to a sluggish morning and a list of shit to do before 5:00 p.m.  I managed to get a few of them done, but being physically completely out of synch has left me a tad frustrated.

I feel like the second I got back to the Yo, everything became difficult and nothing has gone smoothly, which only adds to my growing unease and confusion about next steps.  I'm not upset...but I am annoyed and frustrated.

I don't want much outta life.  I don't and never have had expectations of mansions and the high-life.  I simply want to be functional with a strong sense of harmony.  I want a day-to-day life with M.

Yet, we haven't yet found a way to make that 400 mile jump.  Why?  How is it that we can't find an answer.  It doesn't seem to be that hard for everyone else.  I look at my sister and her family as well as my step-brother and sisters...they've found a way to make it all work.  Maybe not gracefully and definitely not without some struggles and hardships along the way.  But they found a way to build a life, and while I've learned so much in the last nine years, I have yet build (in a practical sense) a damn thing.

Yeah...yeah...I can trace a lot of my inadequate building blocks on about three life-defining poor-choice decisions, but fuck...those have GOT to be overcomeable. <~yeah, word creation there.)  For the last six months, I have been busting my ass (M has as well) to turn over every damn option We/I have.  I'm not sure I've ever worked so hard or so well trying to get somewhere...though we still haven't gotten there yet.

He said it best when he stated "We've burned the ships." We have to find a way to make this work, and I'm optimistic, but I'm still just wondering...why the fuck does it have to be so motherfucking hard just to survive today?

~sigh~ I see how so many things in the last year had to happen.  I understand why, but fuck it's been ugly.  Yes, the ships are nothing more than ashes on the shore being leached away by the unwavering tide.  I've long since gotten past mourning their fiery destruction, but I just wish like hell I had a map for this unknown place that's in front of me. ~sigh~
~K.

Last Words...Maybe They'll Find Wings

Maybe this isn't something that even hits your radar. Maybe it's so far moved from your reality that it doesn't make a difference. But I encourage you to take a few minutes just to read and yes...maybe even find empathy because the fact is...justice and fairness is not as common as you may believe. It's long, but his words give a perspective too rarely heard. 

A Letter From Ray Jasper, Who Is About to Be Executed

To Breathe

For the first time in what seems like forever, I had a few minutes to breathe, and that's just what I did. I didn't work, think, plan, worry, strategize, ponder, dream, stress...

I just fucking breathed.

Deep.

Long.

In blessed, lost nothingness.

It was just my body, my breath, and the rumbling yet gentle music that enveloped me. (Damn, I do so love the MoS soundtrack.)

It's been too long since I've taken the time to feed my soul.  Sacrifices...other things have taken priority. But those simple things...they help fuel our passions, hopes, and dreams.  I need to remember that.  I'm better when I feed my soul.

Now it's time to get back at it...lol

~K.