What If I Want to Be a QUEEN??? The Question that ALL Princesses Have, as They Ride Off into the Sunset

Life surely was, a HELL of a LOT simpler, back in the Medieval times, when men and women just settled in, their traditional gender roles, isn’t it???

What if I want to be a QUEEN??? The question that ALL princesses have, as they ride off into the sunset, and thus, second thoughts, doubts, started taking over, in the princesses minds. What if I want to be a QUEEN? I mean, I’d never needed a man before, I’d grown up, as an independent woman now. Why would I need a man, to care for me?

daddy’s princess, all grown up…not my art…

What if, I want to be a QUEEN??? What if, I’m just, not going to be satisfied, as someone’s princess, what if, I’m, destined to become a queen, and I’m just, settling, as a princess who’s, locked up in an ivory tower, with my one and only BEST friend, my PET DRAGON, who will get slaughtered by some LOSER who made his way up my ivory tower, to ROB me of my youth, huh???

What if, I want to be a QUEEN??? And, I’m just, settling down, as a PRINCESS, who can’t help herself (but, I’m actually, ABLE-BODIED here!!!)? That’s not the life I want, at A-L-L!!!

So yeah, the argument with me continues, until, I finally realize (oh wait, I’d always known it already!!!), that I’m NOT meant to be a “princess” (just like I’d told that elderly man from back in ’08???), that I don’t need anybody to “rescue” me, I’m more of a QUEEN………

 

 

 

 

 

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A Book of Mirrors…

A book of mirrors, I wonder, what it will, reflect, me, or my thoughts, my feelings, or something way, way, way deeper? A book of mirrors, I wish it can, reflect the truth I already know, but don’t want to come face-to-face with, so I’ll be, let down easier, than getting that loud WAKEUP call from reality!

A book of mirrors, I’d found on, I’d, opened it, and, it’d, reflected the ugly truth, about my life, that I wasn’t, cherished or loved, like I thought I was, or rather, should’ve been, and, as I saw the ugly truth, I’d, shut that book.查看來源圖片is that what I look like???  Not my photograph…

A book of mirrors, I keep on, returning to, knowing that it contained, what I already know but wasn’t willing to admit to myself, I guess, I’m, just, waiting, for enough time to come to pass, when I can finally, STARE it in the face?

A book of mirror, I have no need now, I’d already, come face-to-face with the harshness of the truth of my abuse, and so, I’d, tucked that book with over a million pages’ worth of pain written in it, high up, on that uppermost shelf. Never to be, taken down again, not by me, at least………

查看來源圖片the multiple version of the self…not my photo still…

A Band-Aid for Each Time Your Heart Got Broken…

How many, band-aids had you already, saved up, huh??? Too many for you to keep track of?

A band-aid for each time your heart got broken, that’s like kissing a child’s “boo-boos”, that doesn’t do SQUAT! A band-aid for each time your heart got broken, and, it (your heart???) had been broken, more times than you can ever recall, and you’re still sinking and swimming (sinking more!) in the seas of bad love.

like this???  not my picture…

A band-aid for each time your heart got broken, well, I’d, ripped ALL those band-aids off my heart that’s gotten broken, repeatedly already, and trust me, you’d rather, do it, quick (‘cuz that way, it’d only, sting for a short while!!!), rather than peeling back the band-aid, slowly!

A band-aid for each time your heart got broken, so, how many band-aids did you, “waste away” already, huh? And, how many more band-aids are you going to go through??? At this “rate”, you’ll be going through ALL the band-aids in the world, and it still won’t quite be enough!!!

better rip it off quick, it’ll only sting a second!!!  Not my photo still…查看來源圖片

A band-aid for each time you got your heart cracked open, doesn’t feel good, as someone REACHED inside of your heart, TEAR it out, ripped it to shreds, then, put those shattered pieces, BACK in, does it??? Of course N-O-T.

 

 

 

Sick & Tired, of ALL the What-If’s…

I’m sick, sick and tired, of ALL the what-if’s, what if, we’d met earlier, than, I would NOT be STUCK in this state of mind, this way of life I’m currently in, and you, I really don’t know, nor would I, wish to give a SHIT, what happens to you!

Sick and tired, of all the what-if’s, and yet, they’d, built up, like those dust that’s, covered up the mantle, and, I’m allergic to DUST ahhhhhhhhhhchoooooooooooo!!!  Sick and tired, of all the what-if’s, what are the purposes of, those annoying, what-if’s anyway, huh?  Sick and tired, of All the what-if’s, had we met earlier, had we not allowed life to get in the way of our love, then, it may all have turned on, differently, and yet, we’d, gone down, separate paths in life (hopefully, our paths will, NEVER come near to intersecting again!!!).

Sick and tired of ALL the what-if’s, they’re, absolutely, USELESS and pointless, and, the purpose of those god DAMN annoying what-if’s is merely to, keep me bound, to my past, and I’d, decided, I want to, break free, and now, all that’s, left for me to do, is to figure out an effective way, to get myself, from those piled-on what-if’s on top of me right now………

Sick and tired of ALL the what-if’s, if there are, no what-if’s, this world would be, perfect (well more like LESS defective!!!) to live in, wouldn’t it???  And yet, count up, how many what-if’s are in your lives???

 

 

 

 

 

All the Way Southbound

A poem, translated…

On the Plains, Farther Off Still

The Tinier People are Pushing Along Their Tills

Taming the Fires to Even More Mildly Tempered than the Livestock

Drying Those Furs Turning to a Yellow Glow

查看來源圖片like this???  Not my photograph…

The Birds Stitched a Slanted Series of Uneven Claws

into an Undependable Stairway Up to Heaven, Look

the Sun is Falling Down

After Counting All the Enclaves

The Weeds that Filled Up the Windows Came & Receded Away

Sometimes, We’re Closer to the Cemeteries

That the Dead Can Read My Name Aloud

the various landscapes…not my photograph still…

Sometimes, that Ruin Suddenly Appeared

The Dirt and Mud from a Decade Before

Gave Life to the Newly Blooming Flowers

What Does the South Keep Still

The Young Father, the Younger Sister, a Cat,

a Dock, the Oil-Stained mast of a Ship————

The Trains are about to Arrive Now

the world, flashing by outside, photo from online…

and I will Be a Fitting Student

Coloring in the Slots of Time

Slot, by Slot

So, this, is just sitting by the sidelines, watching life blow by, there’s that sense of displacing the self, not participating in the goings on of the world, being a mere observer of the goings-on around you…

Can the Family Members Really, Truly, Understand One Another?

Uh, HELL NO, ‘cuz we’re too close, to see each other truthfully, like how the outside world can! Translated…

The misunderstandings of “people can come to understand one another”, is the cause of unsettlement.

When I was in my twenties, there was a girl who’d yelled at me:

“Why can’t you understand me?!”, it’d thrilled me. I’d analyzed the reason why her words had, thrilled me, and found, that this sentence was built on the foregrounds of ‘People can understand one another naturally”.

It’s a “norm”, that people can understand each other, but I couldn’t understand her, and so, that girl felt anxious and was tortured by her own sense of insecurity.

but, if you change the sentence to “People can’t naturally understand one another”, and come to the agreement, that not understanding each other WAS the norm, then, we wouldn’t be stressed out over it, nor would we get tortured by this lack of security we feel toward each other.

And so, as the other person understood us we’d felt glad, that it was, a miracle, that we’d, understood each other, and that would be, an excited and ecstatic moment for us both then.

That way, we’d no longer be stressed out over “we can’t understand one another”, and nor would we feel strained by “why can’t we understand each other?”. Because not understanding each other is the norm, and we’d think more on terms of “how can we understand each other more”, and no longer would we get, stressed out over it, or feel anxious either.

Am I wayward in thinking in this manner?

But I believe, that this prerequisite is very important, because of this, we’d, worked even harder, to try to understand one another.

Some believed, that other than “someone else”, there’s still that “someone who can understand me without me having to say a word”.

“Even if I don’t say anything, there’s another version of me who gets me”…………but, if you’re smart enough, you’d know right off the bat, that no such other person exists.

But, when you’d felt fatigued, beaten, trapped in your loneliness, naïve, and hated life, you couldn’t help, but hope, for someone else with whom “I don’t need to say a thing, and gets me”.

It’s meeting up with someone who’s a fake, but thinking that s/he is someone who’s real.

Take for instance, family, maybe it’ll be clearer for you.

Even as you’d lived for many years, with someone who resembled you, but to you, family members are still “those from outside”.

Stop believing that “because we’re family, we’d, naturally understood one another.” or, “parents understand their own children the best.” All of these, are LIES, or maybe, wishful thinking, hoping, that those we love can, understand us. And although we can all empathize with this, but this isn’t at all, true.

As you were younger, your families wouldn’t be considered as “others”.

Especially for children growing up in love, the parents became “even if I don’t say anything, they can understand me so well”. Or, as the parents became stricter, you’d turn yourselves into “my parents’ robots”.

And yet, as you grow older, when your judgments differed from your parents, they’d become, “others”.

Especially when it comes to finding a job, being in love, marriage, living independently, parents would often “show up” as a forceful other. At this time, both parties would feel that we’d lived under the same roofs so long, why is there such a huge difference in the way we thought, and felt flustered over this.

And yet, that, is how human interactions worked, being different is matter-of-fact, and so, so long as we communicate well, then, we can, reduce that emptiness inside, and can motivate us in positive ways.

Never believe the old clichés like “men don’t get women”, “Women can’t understand men”.

It’s not that men can’t get women, or women don’t understand men.

Men who start believing that “men can’t get women”, after they fell in love, they’d begun to try to understand the women they’re into. Meaning, that as he was a young child, this was, the very first time, that he’d wanted to understand the woman he’s with.

Before this, for instance, as he’d interacted with an older schoolmate in his extracurricular activities, he’d never thought of understanding the individual in depth.

As I went to lunch at a café with an older schoolmate, I saw him not eating any tomatoes, I’d asked him, “hey, don’t you eat any tomatoes at all?” But even as he’d replied, “I hate tomatoes”, I’d not keep his word in mind, “He doesn’t eat tomatoes, remember it!”

And yet, as I’m in love, when my girlfriend told me, “I hate tomatoes”, I’d, naturally remember it.

Which means, that the very first time we’re compelled to understand someone, it’s usually someone from the opposite sex. If it’s a man, he’d normally wanted to understand a woman first, and if it’s a woman, she’d normally first try to really understand a man.

(the above is in heterosexual relationships. But if you’re a homosexual, then, naturally, you would want to understand someone who’s the same sex as you).

Because we couldn’t understand “others”, that is why we say, “Men can’t get women”, or “Women have NO clue what men are thinking”.

And yet, these two sentences were both wrong. It should be changed to “nobody understands anybody else”. In parent-child relationship the child who’s having a first argument with the parents would say, “The adults don’t get children.”, as the siblings fight, “Siblings are still, not us.”

But, compared to the relations of families, most meet their “others” in love, when love started blooming in the teens, or early twenties, we are, driven, to understand someone we liked for the very first time in our lives, and are trapped, in deep emotional pains, and the person who makes us feel that way, is a “significant other”.

I must reiterate:

I believe, that “We can’t naturally understand each other”, this belief can help reduce our own insecurities, and help us understand one another better.

So, wanting to understand someone else is a sort of a drive (like the drives to eliminate hunger, thirst???), and, just like Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, you must fulfill your needs on the first two level before you’re able to contemplate about love, and, it’s because we’re attracted to someone, that, was why we’re, driven to understand everything we can about the person, isn’t it???

A Porcelain Named “Marriage”

We’d received that wedding present (yup, unfortunately, we still got H-I-T-C-H-E-D here!!!) from, uh, who was it from again???  Doesn’t matter anyways…

It was a wedding day present, and yeah, she just, sat inside that display case it got delivered to us in, looking so pretty, so white-faced, so delicate too, and because “she” was so delicate, so untouched, so clean-looking, we’d decided, to keep this porcelain we came to name “marriage” inside that display case, in the shelves.

the “before” photo…from online…porcelain doll 的圖片結果

Then, as the kids came one by one (yup, we’d reproduced like them rabbits too, don’t you know!!!), and I had one too many abortions to count, as those little ones, came too quickly!

And, as the kids started getting older, they’d started, experiencing the world through their senses (as all kids should be allowed to???), and one day, one of those RUGRATS got her hands, into that display case, where “marriage”, the porcelain lay in her dormancy, and, that daughter of ours, took her out, and, because she still hadn’t mastered her hand-eye coordination completely yet, oopsy, “Marriage”, the porcelain dropped, and shattered!

I ran into the living room, as soon as “Marriage” HIT the floor, “she” made that huge raucous (fine, maybe NOT loud, but I’d, still heard “her” shatter…), and, I told our daughter, to GET away, ‘cuz I didn’t want her to step on the shattered pieces and cut herself, and, as I pushed her aside, and started sweeping up the mess, our daughter started crying…

And I had to, go and calm my baby girl down, told her it was okay, that marriage is now, shattered, and that I knew she didn’t mean to break “her”, that it wasn’t, her fault, but heaven knows how much she’d blamed herself, and she’s, so very young too!

and here’s the “after” photo, still from online…a shattered porcelain doll 的圖片結果

After “marriage” the porcelain shattered into god only KNOWS how many pieces, I’d, replaced “her”, with a ragdoll named DIVORCE, and, after I gained SOLE custody (‘cuz you are NOWHERE fitting as a father to my daughter!), I’d allowed my daughter, to drag, DIVORCE, the ragdoll everywhere with her………

And yeah, someone D-I-E in this tale: it’s that STUPID porcelain named “marriage”!