What being a writer means to me

It means never leaving well enough alone.
It means adventures without all the treasure.
It means sometimes I'm just not good enough.
It means never giving up.

It means being alone with voices (known as characters) in my head.
It means seeing the things that are hard to see.
It means saying the things that are hard to say.
It means never, ever, giving up.

It means making someone think
It means making someone cry,
It means typewriters, and keyboards, pens, and paper.
It means never even thinking about giving up.

It means that scrap of receipt you found in the bottom of your purse that you hastily write on at the checkout counter, because you'd never forgive yourself if you forget the way you described her eyes.
It means empty tea cups and half read books.
It means knowing inspiration comes in all forms.
It means never losing hope, and not daring to give up.

It means traveling everywhere in your dreams.
It means having dreams.
It means the smile you get when you've found just the right way to word something.
It means never knowing how to word some things.
It means never in a million years giving up.

It means learning to say "I'm a writer" and not sound like you're still trying to convince yourself.
It means late nights, and lots of coffee.
It means people watching
It means theres always a good reason to never give up.

It means fan mail.
It means being someone guilty pleasure.
It means making a difference.
It means you can not give up.

It means being alone.
It means struggle.
It means knowing that you are just one piece to the world.
It means your lovers will live on.
And sometimes, just sometimes, it means knowing when to put down the pen. When to close your eyes, and just give some things up.

I'm Trying

I swear I am. Its hard to write lately. I know I'll get over it. Heck I wrote on Once Upon an Orgasm just for Daddy. Just need to get back into it little by little. doing it for Daddy no doubt made it easier though. Things have been weird for sure. But I'm trying not to turn this into a blog about a whiny little girl and her problems. I will say this: I have a goal to write something at least erotic related by the end of the week. Well thats all for now, off to bed. I have classes tomorrow.

PTSD

Okay its going to get all emotional up in here just a fair warning. A good friend that I had cared for and trusted greatly betrayed my trust in ways I haven't even started to process. Two Thursday's ago I was raped in my own backyard. There I said it. Well as close as I've been able to come to saying it. I've been falling apart, slipping through my own fingers. I can't sleep, I barely eat, I've been trying so hard to act like nothings wrong and just keep with my normal life. I can't stand being alone because my thoughts inevitably drift back there.

I've lost interest in erotic writing even. It feels like a chore more than a passion at the moment. Little things I do make me think of him, and again I'm back to that place in time. Taking my birth control trips me out, words people say, even making a P, B, & J left me almost in tears. I'm always on alert and freak out when I'm touched and I wasn't aware I was about to be. Hell I punched a friend yesterday cause they jumped out at me. (opps...)

So today I went to the Docs for a follow up on this whole thing. And guess what guys? I have PTSD. So yet another thing I have to find a way to process and deal with. All I want to do is cry and cuddle with Mr. Spiffy and suck on my paci.

I had an amazing five days with Mommy and Daddy ( I'll talk about more in detail when I can) that made me think I had this shit under control, but it just sneaks up on you. Other than all that I have a few complaints (imagine that...)  One: The cop asked my what I was wearing. Yes I'm being serious, he even asked my if I was wearing panties and what kind I was wearing. Two:  He asked me how many times I've had sex in my life. He made me feel terrible for having more sex then socially acceptable. In fact he even said he thinks I shouldn't be having so much sex.

Three: I have one or two friends who know about my being kinky and this incident and the biggest question I've been getting goes something like this "But I thought you like that sort of thing?" OMG OMG OMG OMG. I like kinky stuff I don't like someone forcing himself on me when I obviously said no. Many times.

Think of it like this: you like ice cream don't you? Sure you do! Ice cream is delicious. Now imagine someone prying your mouth open shoving spoon fulls of ice cream down your throat for an hour. Ice cream doesn't sound to good then huh? But wait I thought you liked ice cream? Exactly.

Yeah I really needed to vent I guess. Thanks for listening. Or reading :) Hopefully I'm be back to normal soon.