T here is nothing sexier than a woman who embraces her whole self.
Flaws are just an opportunity to find unique beauty in ourselves.
These amazing bits of wisdom floated into my consciousness recently, and they have really inspired me to look at myself with new eyes.
There are parts of my physicality, my form, that I have always wished to change. I think the same is true for all people. We all find things that displease us. We always think, oh if only this was changed I could be beautiful.
You are beautiful now.
Always I have wanted to be shorter. My entire life I have been the tall girl, always one of the tallest people you know. I have wanted to be petite, and found great shame in being taller than a lot of men. But now, suddenly, I realize this is not so. I am happy to be tall today. I am happy that I am willowy in appearance.
I have thought previously that my height has limited me in certain things. For instance, I thought I could never wear heels. "Those are for those gorgeous little darlings! Not for the tree that I am."
Well I am removing this limitation from myself. Heels are beautiful, and I love shoes... why should I not wear them?
Yes... I will stand out further.
Yes... I will seem all the more willowy.
I think I realize now that I love that.
I feel it brings an etherealness to me.
I think I may celebrate these new feelings towards myself with a pair of 5inch heels that I have been lusting over.
We should always celebrate ourselves.
My body is not perfect.
There are many things that I could call flaws. Ways that my body does not conform to certain standards of what makes a woman's naked form 'picture perfect'.
I used to feel poorly about myself for these reasons.
Now I realize there is no such thing as an error in body, a flaw, an ugliness.
We just are.
We exist as we do.
W e j u s t a r e.
Grand Guignol was a free imp with my first order.
These 5 perfume oils unfortunately do not work so well with my skin chemistry. With the exception of Bloodlust, they are a lot sweeter and lighter on me than I was hoping they would be. Bloodlust stirs memory in me once it has dried on my skin. It is not a scent I wish to smell like all the time, but for the very experience of feeling lost memories being pulled forward... I like to wear it and meditate.
These four work wonderfully with my chemistry. My absolute favourite of the bunch is Dragon's Heart... a feminine but smoky Dragon's Blood incense smell.
Scherezade makes me think of old wooden floors, ancient spices, crinkling yellowing books so delicate to the touch.
The Lion is, in a word, yummy. A warm vanilla-amber scent, that becomes a little dryer as it sits on the skin... a lazy lion in the hot grass savana. There is a sexiness from it for the pure fact of smelling edible.
Snake Oil requires a bit of aging to smell good. But once it does, perfection. Naughty, evil vanilla dripping with incense.
When infinity is home
the world becomes unstable
A spinning top of green and blue
with black holes beckon closer
The ether now more real, perhaps
I try to shrug off my skin and wonder
I know the things that I won't have. I know what I am not.
I give up on partnership.
You lie to me.
The 'You' that is every individual that seems to cross my path.
I am merely an amusement to You. Something to make You feel better when someone's elses cloak of negative opinion has wrapped around yourself. So you lay it instead on my shoulders.
She is one who can take your pain away.
A n d I d o . . .
Then stare at my palms and watch as they fade into the scenery. Invisibility was not a trait I wanted to earn in your eyes.
I am not dust to be blown off your shoulder.
Nor a pretty trinket you can pick off the shelf when you are bored.
I've known too many of You to allow for more chances.
People rarely ever change.
I am sad to see You are a disappointment.
Each of You that passes makes me trust less in decent people.
Alone, alone, I am alone.
But what else could be? For I am the moon. And though the moon hangs surrounded by stars in a black sky... All those stars are far away.
And the moon never really feels the warmth that the sun illuminates her with.
I am alone.
My greatest strength and my greatest weakness is that I am so open and understanding.
It seemed to last for hours
For the majority of my life I was a fluid being. There was no such thing as a favourite colour, animal, band, or song. I had no preferences. I watched as people made choices into what interested them, and understood each time how that subject could grab their attention. I observed the way people acted, and how their actions made others perceive them. Girls and boys became known as the funny one, the crazy one, the bad ass, the flake, the loser. And I somehow always managed to stay under the radar... a drifter. I could be anyone's friend. I had no preferences.
As we grew older I noticed that along with personality our fashion choices became important to evolve. You could choose to be any way you wanted, you could look any part. Now there were the glamorous, the edgy, the sporty, the sexy ones. I dressed to disappear. The plainest girl you've ever seen. You'd never look at her twice. And still I watched as people discovered amd grew into themselves.
That has been the story of my life.
Open to any and all choices.
My identity never formed at pace with everyone else. I cannot properly explain to you what it feels like to not have an identity. To be open space, a blank canvas, an empty journal.
I could be anyone you needed in a single moment.
Liquid glass, you could cool me to form as you please. And once you leave, I'm fluid again.
It was maddening.
For the passed 2 years I have been making a concerted effort to form myself.
To express this weird anomaly of self that I am. Amorphous.
What is there to discover, when the possiblities are infinite.
Where does one begin?
My preferences are vague.
Swirling black and grey mist.
In the depth of darkness, with slivers of light and thick grey fog.
I am in the deep.
All of what I have become still does not express this soul.
I w i s h y o u k n e w t h e f e e l i n g . . .
There must have been something released into the air that day. Some foreign, senseless invader that knew it's way into the marrow of her bones. A confluence of virulent matter formed there, with all paths leading straight to her. The aura darkened like a many armed ghoul stretching into the atmosphere ad infinitum, merging with her subtle anatomy.
And though once the newly sprouting buds on trees could fill her with hope and possiblity, there now only existed a heavy melancholic dread at what the season would hold. What new expectation would ride upon the rays of the sun?
She could hardly translate the feeling of being sick at the thought of flower blossoms in her front garden, of birds now home making music in the early morning before she had even been able to fall asleep. She wanted dead roses, scorched landscapes, and the waning moon sitting in a sky that nevered turned from black. Or to press her body against the cold bark of a dead willow tree, and feel the hollow core inside. She wanted thick rolling fog that never cleared, never surrendered against the assault of street lights. And for silence to become a conscious entity that deadened the words trying to curl from their lips.
All manner of warmth was fleeing her body. A feeling that had started on her fingertips, feeding back into the palms until she was left with corpse hands. It poured in a slow, viscous motion inside the arteries of her arms, and she knew it was only a matter of time before it reached to every limb, entombed her heart. When a fleeting thought of trepidation entered her mind she let it pass, and instead sighed heavily into the cool peaceful mist that took her consciousness.
She sank into the sombre trance, realizing as she did that her eyes could see through the fog.
And she was the only one who could truly see the world.