Special

I'm drowning.

I read through more and more of the Book Thief today,
and while I was taking my test, Lisel Meminger whispers in my ears.
Do you really care about this, Saukerl?
Staring at Mr. Miller and thinking blankly of Papa Meminger's accordion face, I have to admit that I do not.
Tears stain the multiple choice and two short-answer questions, betraying me. I ignore the lack of stares from others around me, try not to think of Teddy bears.
When I finish the book, I will have all my books on their fine shelves and weep;
I will cradle Lisel Meminger in my arms.

Someone has to.

She'd yell at me if she were here, too, my Lisel:
Come now, Saukerl. Go and eat your lunch; be thankful it isn't my mama's soup!

I grasp my fingers into her promise and sigh; time for life.

Special: Payton's most-used Elvish Phrases

Amin mela ho - I love him.
(Amun mealla higho)

Amin mela lle -I love you.
(Amun mealla li)

Linnon am meleth vîn - I sing because I love you.
(Leen-non ahm meh-lehth veen)

Melin ceni hin lîn síla i 'eladhach - I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh.

(Meh-leen keh-nee heen leen see-lah ee eh-lahth-ahkh)

Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar - I will follow you to death and beyond.
(Amun kill-a-aava li ay gyrthar ar thar)

Edro gûr lín - Open your heart.
(Ed-row goor lien)

Gelir na thaed - Happy to help
(Ga-leer na thied)

Goheno nin - Forgive me

(Go-hay-no neen)

Q, Ni quorya - I am Drowning

(Q, Nee quore-yah)

Lle wethrine amin - You deceived me
(Li way-alth-rin amun)

Elear - Visionary
(A-lie-are)

Eliac - Water-guardian/Water-Lady (or Lord)/Wave-servant/ Pool-Keeper (etc, etc)
(E-lee-ack)

 Ignio - Fire-Master/Flame-rider/Storm-of-the-fire/Fire-in-eyes/Fire-starter (etc, etc)
(Ig-ni-oh)

Arbados - Earth-shaker/Vow-breaker/Vines-of-the-heart/Silver-eyed (etc, etc)

Siragon - Reed-player/Lute-maker/Dancing-wind/Fire-calmer (etc, etc)

Mordu - Madness-eye/Anger-catcher/Lie-weaver/Corruptor-shadow (etc,etc)

Nostor nî ned Tarion! - My birthday is on Sunday!!!!!! :DDD

Manka ere'ta gaur anwa - if only it were real

re - she

Special: Finding the good

Too often, I manage to mentally misplace the gifts my God has given me.

I'd like to write about them.

God,
Thank you for allowing me to wake up in Finley's arms.
Thank you for letting the first words I heard this morning be, "Payton.... my perfect, lovely Payton..."

Thank you for shoving each other on the rides to work and school (respectively) and nearly getting killed;
'Twas worth the laugh.

Thank you for eating a burrito with cheese bean and rice that I made half the things the day before,
thank you for letting it up my cholesterol and be greasy and good.

When the world collapses and the sky turns to an angry fire, my work place's food will still be good.

Thank you for that.

Thank you for my Co-workers asking me, "You got that? Do I need to repeat in Spanish?"
Thank you for Troy, with his easy middle-aged smile he's fought so hard for, teasing me when I make the little mistakes.
Thank you for Andy, shaking his head as I hum while I work, and the gentlemen at the corner table who was slightly ashamed but nevertheless tapping his fingers along with me, singing "Sing, Sweet nightengale" as I cleaned the windows.
Thank you for Brian, helping me, teaching me about the importance of sauces, and offering to play Magic: The Gathering every Friday night with his group at Planet Chaos after he saw my dice bag.
Thank you that Rhi wasn't around when I forget to label the Mac n' Cheese.
Thank you that Kayla wasn't TOO upset when I mistook her for Amber from behind; I really like that poor thing.

Thank you for all the customers that view me as human, that I treat and love like friends; especially the ones who--when they say, ''Thank you, I hope you have a good day"--they mean it. I can always tell.

The woman who came in with glistening eyes and red cheeks had a heart hurt. Help her, God. You alone know who she is truly, and you alone can offer aid... in this instance, I could not, and I'm sorry.

Thank you for the Gentleman who always wears witty t-shirts, is disgustingly fat, and has a wonderful personality. Thank you for his original greetings; everything from "SALUTATIONS, GLORIOUS MADAM" to a Kling-on verse I understood but nobody else but Brian would have. I will love that man from the bottom of my heart from keeping me, during the lunch rush, from the elderly folks who tend to hate me because I have a ready smile and an even readier singing voice.

Thank you to the Hispanic couple who listened to me singing along to "Kiss me" (sixpence none the richer) and pretended to dance when my back was turned. If I am silly to you, if you laugh at me, friends, it was worth the smiles on those weary faces.

Thank you to the man who bought two drinks by accident, and when I offered to refund him, said he wanted both; only to give the drink to a very large family who came after him. I looked at him a long time and then I paid for his order out of my pocket.

I will reward kindness, stranger. I will be your Karma... and please come talk to me. I can tell your lonely.

So many hearts. So many people. Sometimes I sneak into the bathroom and close my eyes, learning them, offering them what they need whenever I can. If there is a perk to my job, it's that--they're people. I'm a person. I have interaction many, many times every time I work.

Thank you to the new employee and his boss (who take turns paying) who come in once a week, have a devastating eating contest, hate themselves after, and bid me good-bye with "I'm never coming here again!" (To which I reply, "Next week?" And they say, "Yeah, probably. Until my heart stops.") And then they order pie. (They've tied every time.)

Thank you for the ability to work hard for the people I have come to love so much, even after a week and--how many days?--because they are kind to me.

Thank you for walks with my finally-free hair, down the dirty, damp, and slightly cold windy roads, singing at the top of my lungs from the songs I've heard on the Radio at work. (I love the way you love me!!! Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!) Because that music fills me with the savage joy I get from simple things.

Thank you from Troy, already late for his date after needed-overtime, offering to give me a ride, pulling over abruptly in typcial Troy fashion and causing a chain stop, greeted in response by a string of profanity that I hid my giggles for.

Thank you for the dark fear from the group of college boys, always in hoodies, who greets me with slurs and offers I do not respond to; because I am a lady.

I'm in the college now.

Thank you for Jonathan Z. Pollack, my Native American history teacher. Thank you for his un-ironed shirts and floppy ears and baby-curled hair; thank you for his big smile and the love he has for his job that I feel and appreciate. Thank you, also, for the repeated glances towards the clock; because despite being thin, that man LOVES to eat. Talks about it all the time. Thank you for him writing the word 'Tangent' on a sheet of paper and holding it up when he goes on one, so we don't write it down as notes. Thank you, also, for him being open-minded; despite him being Jewish, he reads more and more on the Christian faith so he doesn't offend people. I think he knows more about the Christian faith than anybody I've ever met, and I laugh to myself when he walks into the room with some obscure Christian cult's book tucked under his skinny arm.

Thank you for Lori Pennock, even more of a stereotype than I am, who comments on my doodles thoughtfully, suggests new books for me based on my comments, and offers to bring in treats for the class. I'm going to love that woman for a long time--she doesn't love math so much as people. Once in awhile she'll say, "Write me a poem, Payton?" when I'm getting discouraged about something (and I do). It's that she cares that makes me want to do well at all.

Thank you for the affronted pride of Mr. Virgil Miller. Most especially, thank you for giving him the first name 'Virgil', because it gives me the much-needed smile to edge his class with. Thank you for how laughable and kind a being he is, even if he's gruff about it to hide his sexuality (in vain). Thank you that he hasn't seen my blog to comment on all the grammatical mistakes I have undoubtedly made. Can he be less lonely, please, God?

Thank you also for the big, booming laugh of Mr. Biran (b-ran) Patel. He's a very wonderful man.

Thank you for Chaz Angell, Malcolm, Lacey, and Alyssa Koch. Thank you for them, bringing their papers to me (except for Malcolm, the smart ass), and their meant smiles. If I'm going to have friends in college, it's going to be people like them. :)

Note to self: Set Malcolm up with Hannah. They'd be good together.

Most especially, God
Thank you for Katie.



Katie.

Thank you for Finley.


Finley....





This is a new life. I ask, please, that those who I have wronged find it in their hearts to forgive me, even if they never speak to me again.... people like Kate. I ask that I forgive myself for those wrongs, too.


I love you, God.


Amen.

Special: Remembering

"You and your poison makes me cringe sometimes.
And Payton was fighting it for me.
I was so poisoned I was blind to it.
Now I can see your evil soul..."

"Sorry. Wasn't sure I had posted it."

"Well you did, but.... I disagree."

"Why?"

"You're my sun, Payton."

"What?" Okay, I understood. That was an expression of shock. "Who's your moon?"

You stared at me, radiating my presence with your tree-filled gaze. "I don't have just one, Payton. I have a circle--people like Annie and Liz and you and Jess and my Mom..... you have two very specific people you hang out with...."

"Hey, that reminds me!" I pull out my phone and open pictures of Finley's gentle-dinner. You smile, wincing at the sting among your happiness for me, and I recognize it.
If you refuse to show it, I know you well enough. If I don't know why, I know when you are hurt.

"We're going to talk one of these days," you say, and I feel a twinge of Finley on your breath, realize what you mean, and stare, struck by this most-fascinating of possibilities. "He's going to be all, 'Do you have any idea how important you are to her?' and I will say, 'Yes. She's important to me, too, but I've been busy.'"

True, that. Even your Freudian personality tests say so.
***
"...She hates me. I always forget, but Kate hates me, and it's my fault. Mine, because I hurt her."

"Do you regret what you said?"

"No."

"Would you change it if you could?"

"No."

"Then why are you upset?"

"I just miss her, that's all. I miss the days when she pretended to like me."

Sunlight sighs at the stench of truth on my breath. "Payton, how often do you see Kate Murley?" No reply. "How often do you WANT to?"

"I just don't want to be lonely, that's all. So many people promised not to forget me and have. I just don't think it's fair that somebody who lies like Kate, all the time, could be more liked and less strange than me, who always tells the truth...."

A moment. You stare, caught between wanting to tell me that's not true; but it is, and you won't lie to me.

I appreciate you wanted to. That comfort is a very real one.

"You're not everyone's cup of Tea, Payton," you settle on eventually. Seeing my expression, you add, "And, despite what you might--and seem to--think, neither am I."

I control the urge of wanting to kick the planet aside like a soccer ball. Any world that doesn't like you is not one I want to live in.

My trembling lips betray my unshed tears. Staring emptily at Silence, my body shakes.

My whole heart is in pain for not being liked; so much I am struggling not to collapse on you, Katie, a big, slobbery mess of star-colored hair.  Quaking, I picture putting my head on you shoulder; some of the pain subsides.

Such a simple pain can cause such a powerful agony in our battered hearts, can't it?

I've been silent too long.

"You know what you need, Payton? An outlet." You rattle off a list of options, shooting them down one by one as they become improbable or difficult to do. You notice I am shaking, however; in an effort to leave you mirage of happiness between we two, I will not tell you why.

We exchange facts; Asthma and Diabetes shake hands by our monologues.

I love you.

You explain your time with Kate, your moment during Moulin Rouge-- your eyes glisten as you offer your heart to me, and I want to commit a most unGodly act of murder.

If I ever cross the one who harmed you, I will kill him. I will be the most horrible person I will be, and I will kill. Ravage, bloody harm is the promise of my fingertips.
***
I remember talking about Weakness. You think my love makes me weak, but I disagree. Love makes me stronger for my weakness, Katie. Always. It gives me fierce strength against the wrongs we watch the walking men sigh for.

Rowan of Rin, Katie.

Remember my Rowan of Rin. Remember that it is the weakest among us who do the strongest things. Think about Harry Potter, a boy, versus Lord Voldemort, a man with fantastic power. In Narnia, four Children ruled for many a year, their kingdom of happiness and magic. Rowan--my Skinny rabbit boy--triumphed because of his weakness. Those who were afraid to show theirs perished along the way.

To be frank, my love, I find that model to be much like life; to suffer in silence is to suffer alone. Only when we share it with each other does that pain become ever bearable. If I speak to you as I do, it is because my weakness isn't yours.

I know yours too.

To me, the only true weakness is not recognizing our own, and facing it.


I love you...

Special: Home

I walk
Through the woods;
Leaves,
felled by cold
Crinkle on my dirty feet
Like fingers in fur,
like bees through a spider web,

I
Am Heavy;

I
Am trapped.

My feet
Marching to a tune
One heard from the bell in my heart
My eyes
Seeing
My soul
Touching, touching.

Squirrels
Their black eyes staring
Staring at the stranger
One with no rights to their wild kingdom
I am that stranger.
I have no rights.

My friends take their tea here;
A dance hall
For the wild,
And I am an unwelcome guest
One who will not leave when asked.

Then, the wall

High stones and High sky

My bones ache to touch them
My feet move there on their own.
My breath greeting
The cold-hearted stone,
I sit.

A stick
My friend to greet the cobwebs
Silver whispers in the wood
Which I take down gently
Lays on that stone,
Caressing the rock.
Caressing the moment.

I stare.

Empty grass is icy green
Trees reach for it with their brambly arms
Unable to reach it.

Climbing down,
I touch it for them;
The wind is singing in my hair.

Home, your wild--
The song of
Rosy-fingered dawn
Long past from unfeeling stone.

Mine.

Grass and vines embrace
My wall of stone in a living grasp
Wrapped around them, waiting
Watching,
Waiting.


Sitting on my loyal stone
My aching feet take their rest in the dirt,
And I give the gift of my smile
to these wild lands.

Mine.

A moment is coming
One to alter me, one to move me forward
I recognize it.

Sitting on my rain-wrung rock
I wait.

I close my eyes
Identity resonates
with the song of sweet wind
 in the locks of my hair.

Touching their ten fingers to my heart
These moments thrive to make me
Against the taint of dirty hate.

I open my eyes again
The breath of blue winter against the green of icy fall
So do my eyes greet this greatness
And I wait.

Clutching the pages of Sappho,
Running my nose through the smell of her
My eyes on the words of her--
The joy hurts too much to live
And it dies as the dust of the wild
Flares from the cover as I
Empty my eyes of the sight of words.

Alone again.

I picture
The point of my invasion--
A red book,
A silver sun.

Everything.

I greet my home, I touch the door
I turn back to the forest
And the wind sings in my hair.

Home.

Special: Mr. Miller

"You know, I used to be a writer."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. Wrote a play, got second place."

Shit.

Then, a wave of inspiration.

"Can I ask you a maybe-personal question?" It would be personal to me, this one. I would have been affronted before I had answered, if our situations were reversed.

"Out of curiosity, do you like Marius or Pandora better?"

Marius, my Marius.

"Pandora," he answers, without hesitation."I like that Anne Rice has female characters that know what they want and how to work to get that." My face fell, and Mr. Miller saw that. "Her Male characters are good, but too much... wusses. Too much whining."

I realize in three seconds we have a problem:

He is MY Pandora--he knows exactly what he wants and how, and there am I, there is Marius, picking up pieces of dreams he has shattered to give it to him.

Hopefully, I'll learn to do this well....

Marius and Pandora did not.

Special: Forgot to mention--I am the Sky

My dream last night involved you, Katie. It was like my normal dreams only our positions were switched.

Firstly, you moved to Alaska;
a land of blurring snow and blinding ice,
howling wolves and a yellow, low-hung moon.
You lived there, in a plain city, reading Lord of the Rings and holding costume parties;
running the only dance hall for miles with moderate success.

And then the Winter came
(At least, I think it was the winter. I don't know what Winters in Alaska are like).
It was dark for many days, and you withered from the lack of light
a total, utter lack of light
not even the bright snow was glowing in your eyeballs.
Light was gone, totally
and you were trapped in night, the Dance hall's lights too blaring
and never enough warmth, always cold
inside and out.

And you got sick.
It was slow at first--my dream showed me many days, many fabulous costumes and foods and contests--
and then it got worse.
You got pale; not from a lack of wholesome Wisconsin sunlight (if you've ever heard such an amusing thing as that-!)
but from a lack of light. 

I'm not going to describe to you the circles underneath your eyes,
the shadows on your pretty face,
the death within your tree-trapped eyes,
but know they struck me.

Soon, even the most beautiful of costumes could not disguise your illness, love.

Even your red hair was thin and lank,
prickling from behind your ears with an almost-dancing hopefulness,
staring at your too-white world.

And then I came.

I don't know how you see me.
If you were to describe me, I don't know what you would write.
Remind me to ask you.

Dream-me came, in a sparkling blue dress
like your ice, your snow, I was
ice-sequins hanging from the blue,
jagged edges over the silk, like winter--
my eyes were gold,
brighter and brighter, more and more noticeably, as I grew closer to you

If I were the one laying in bed, getting sick and you came in for a dream
I would breathe the gold dust from you and be well at once.

This time, you were sick, not I--
and a silvery-blue dust, like powdered magic in an ancient world
sped from my skin like feathers, enveloping you
and you closed your tree-filled eyes, waiting.

Sure enough, color crept back to your skin
your hair was restored and you sat up at once,
eyes still closed
and when they opened, the last of the powder--after restoring your lips from corpsely blue,
your clothes to their former, costumesque glory--swirled to rest in them,
which glowed white like your snow, but also blue like the breath in winter, filligreed with diamond-made lines
like a mine of silver-blue stones;
a season of your eyes without the warmth.

Your eyes were open.
Your arm extended to me weakly.
A slow, beautiful smile.

"Payton....amin ithil..."

Payton. My moon.
Even your voice was correct in tones,
your accent and pronunciation mediocre at best.
It made the moon-me smile.

I woke up.



Amin tathar ten'oio linduva lle isilme, amin anar.
I will forever be your moonlight, my sun.


You once asked me why you were the sun, and Finley was the moon.
I give a lot of complicated, mystical, metaphoric answers.
There's a simple one, though, one I often over look--
the answer of the heart.

When you think of me, you don't feel me like the sun.
If you've ever tried to feel things that aren't human---well, I did that. Twice.
I wanted to know what the sun and moon felt like.
Glorious and wonderful things, you should try it sometime.
Point is, when I close my eyes, when I focus--
you're my sun. Finley's my moon.

Why?

Because for you, I am the moon.
I'm everything to you that Finley represents to me, minus the relationship angle.
At least, I think so?
Magic, eloquence, aloofness, coyness, smiles, grace--
also uselessness, too much dreaming, sensitive, philosophical.


Meanwhile, for Finley, I am the Sun.
I am everything to Finley that you are to me, plus the relationship angle.
I am light, and magic, heart and love, an ''empath'' (as Finley calls), silliness and frivolity,
and he needs me.
Most desperately, my Finley needs me.
He was broken until I found him, until he felt me
and I was a balm to him, I healed him, I made him whole and better.
When he smiles, it is a victory to me.

That is the nature of the thing, you see?

I complete Finley.
If you wanted, I could be your Moon.

It's all about perspective, representation.



Amin i'ithil....

I am the moon.

Amin i'anar.

I am the sun.

Over all? To me?

I've always thought of myself as.... the Sky.

Special: standing straight, bending like reeds

Work.
College, so more work.
Finley crisis.
Comfort Finley.
KATIEEEEEEEEEEE! *Small and helpless child dance*
Was Katie asleep for all that?
I wonder. It felt like she might have heard something, but then, I was mostly focused on Finley.
My poor Finley....

Orgasm balls.
Coke zero.
Delicious Candy.
Inturrupted showers.
Holding onto my moon as he cried into my shoulder, staring at a sleepy sun for help.
Maintaining a careful balance, always balance.
A cloud lifted from my shoulders like a heavy shroud in summer
it wisps away like fog in a wind of Heaven;
I am free.

Schuster's soon,
and I am free.
Loneliness has been fed and watered,
and I am free from it.

I confess a great relief to that end
especially since I did not deserve a Katie if I were just ignoring her like that for the night.
She fell asleep on my couch and for a minute words buzzed in my ears that I wanted to tell her,
important words, endless words.

And then, a strange thing happened.

As I was cleaning up after packing--I do that, you know, Clean--
Sunlight wrapped around my heart.
Both halves.
Let me repeat that one: Both halves.
I'm not sure if it was a sheer act of Will, or kindness, or Katie dreaming, or me whispering,
"Amin mela lle, amin Aure. Cormamin lindua ele lle."
(I love you, my sunlight. My heart sings to see you/thee again)
but it was mine.
And new music and new words wrapped around me like a skin of blossoming flowers,
and I sang and sang and sang them as I cleaned,
a lullaby to all my heart;
one written in tangency.

I'll cook and clean and make for you
work to make your house a home
I'll keep your heart at home with me while you work
my soul in the sleeves of your overcoat.
The song of lovers,
the song of dreams
you are the man all the women dream of,
Mrs. Wiese, that's the name I whisper to myself
as you walk from my door, darling. 


I'll pour you wine for dinner,
I'll send you love for lunch
I'll clean and cook and scrub for you
to make your house a home,
to make your house a ho-ome...


Song of lovers,
song of our tomorrow
hard-won, no frivolity 
except for the prize of your smile, love. 


Hold my heart in your hands
wear my heart on your heart
I'll hold yours, you hold mi-ine
song of lovers,
song of lovers
so-o-o-oong of l-lo-o-overs....


And you're gone from me now,
you're weeping, I know 
don't be strong in front of me if you aren't
I know you---
I'll keep you safe, we'll be Together
Together, with a capital T
and Together forever we'll be.


I'll be your sun, you be my moon
live in my light and I'll smile at your warmth
Together, Together
our Lo-o-vers song--
Looo-ver's song! 

So on and so forth. On and on and on.
For once, my voice was beautiful, it was what I wanted to give to him....
I'll sing it to him soon. Quietly, when he's driving or hasn't quite woken; I'll spin my whole heart on his troubles with the treasure of your music. 

I'm glad you had this answer,
because I did not.
I looked and looked and looked and could only offer Faith, or Love--
you can offer Tomorrow, Forever.
I took it from you with nary a second thought, and I'm sorry for it, Katie.

Theft from a sleeping person is most unkind, and I apologize.

A sleeping Katie slept through it, instead.
Well, that doesn't matter, Aure.

Amin harmuva onalle e' cormamin, amin Anar.

I shall treasure your gift in my heart, my sun.


...The gift of your presence is twice that treasure...

Thorns: Revolution

I will not be
a small and helpless child
as long as there is daylight.

So mote is be.

....What does mote mean, again?

I sense work involved...

Special

Two days ago, nobody was packed. Nobody, not even my mom. So I stayed up hours, finishing my room. I've got maybe three more boxes to pack, right? Three. Three at most.
Well, mom got home today. Taylor hadn't done her shit for the day, and it was my fault. Before she'd take me to class, I'd have to do all her work plus all of mine. Now normally I'd grumble about this and do it, except for the fact that I had class a half hour from the time she told me this.
It was, essentially, impossible.
I did what I could. I cleaned the disgusting bathroom (which I haven't been home enough to do, so it fell to Taylor and Kayrene who, predictably, did not do it at all), I packed the living room up except for one or two things, and did even more in my room. I'm nearly done with no help from anybody I've helped, and I'm really, really angry about it.
Furious.
Schultz has people EVERYWHERE helping her move. Katie can get people just as easily. Even Finley's dad, a recovered alcoholic with a limited social stature, has people helping him move right now. Not to mention all the time I gave to Nan and Derek when THEY moved.
Now, I don't expect anything from Schultz. Good God, the woman's getting surgery and has recently been in a car accident. Finley's Dad driving up from Beloit to help me? I don't expect that. He's going to school. Even Katie can give me a pat on the arm and say "Busy," and then walk off like she normally does. Whatever. Lauren McCann lives five hours away.
How many other people do I know that could have helped me? How many people have I helped with things for no other reason at all other than being asked, that they needed me, that are FUCKING RUNNING AWAY the MOMENT I need help with something? This isn't a Kitchen. I can't do anything but my room by myself. I need help. 
I need help. I shouldn't have to give anything to you for you to want to me helpful for me. Now, I don't help with stipulations, but humanity is disgusting me right now.
Oh, and my mom screamed at me about everything. How will Taylor do at Schuster's with her Epilepsy? How stupid I was to bring her. Why did I do that? Of course, she asked me, but now that it's gone wrong, it's totally my fault. How dare I wasn't working harder, because apparently two jobs and a full course schedule is not enough. I'm useless. I'm overweight. She wishes she hadn't had me. Why was I still standing there? I had work to do.
On and on and on.
I won't cry. I won't cry. I won't let her have that power. I'm in class now. I won't see Katie soon, won't see Finley soon. I'll have to be my own light. 

Nobody gives a fuck, either.

Nobody has the time to....
Don't cry, Payton. Don't cry.... 

Special

"I mean, even sisters lie sometimes. Best friends take advantage of each other sometimes. You can't trust somebody COMPLETELY, Rose!"

"Sure you can. I trust you. Go, spend whatever you want and come back."

"BUT I'M GOING TO STEAL FROM YOU, ROSE!"

"....I know, Dorothy."


Beatrice and Rose are much more awesome than I thought. For all their blunders, they can convey love better than anybody.

Thorns

"Give me a single reason to let you through these doors, human. Give me one; perhaps I will even listen to it."

"I am human."

"Clearly. Your reason, madam? The window to my patience is wavering quickly, I assure you."

"Let me in.... because I am human."

"....What?"

"I walk among human men. I feel their pain and suffering. I am a crown jewel in the throne of suffering, brother. Magic is the taste of my tongue, the touch of my feet to movement, the race of will against temptation. I am that Magic. I am not human, but I am Human; I am Man! Let me through."

"....They'll get a kick out of you, for sure. Open it, Ben!"

                                                                                 ***

"So, you're the one that's charmed your way past our gates. What can I get for you? The way out is yon, perhaps you have forgotten it? I would not be surprised; so slow are your slovenly thoughts...."

Special: Pins in the heart

I’m afraid, Katie.
You are leaving me.
You are picking up your un-scattered life and walking away from me,
Walking away from magic.

If I know both the sun and moon
And love them both so much, so much
Then I must be the sky.

Katie, please don’t go.
Please don’t prove yourself common,
I beg you, please don’t go.
You are my thunder-heart,
And you will hurt me so much if you leave me--
So I’m begging you:
Please don’t go.

I know you’re sick of me.
I see my presence grating at the sides of your eyeballs
Like cheese over a salad,
My time’s running out.

I know I have Finley.
I never doubt him, because he’s mine.
I’ve known for quite some time he isn’t leaving me.

Not you.
I fear every day and every night that I have lost you,
I wake and check my cell in case I’ve missed your voice.
Katie, when you came to see me at two a.m. and I woke at your text,
It’s because I was waiting for it.

Waiting for you.

Katie, I’m always waiting for you.
There’s a feeling I get when I’m near you that means everything to me,
That feeling that, if I read these words aloud, my voice would be cutting and raw
And I would cry.

But you don’t love me that way.
Not the way I love you.

I’m beginning to realize it, and it took me some time
And it’s killing me.
Killing me.

I look at you with fear, waiting for the hurt to start…
I don’t want to be hurt again.
Please, please don’t hurt me.
Please, somehow find time for this conversation I’m afraid to have.
You aren’t Finley.
You’ve said you’re no man’s constant,
But I want you to be mine.



Constant in my life,
Like the warmth in summer.

I don’t want forever,
I just one you near me for one life.
That might seem a long time, but I still want you to live
I’m just begging you not to leave me
Because I love you.

God, I could stand at the top of a mountain and scream that at the top of my lungs
And it wouldn’t matter if you don’t love me back.
You say you do and you do, you’re no liar
But not the way, no, never the way that I love you,
From the depths of me, from the endless depths of me
I love you.

I love you every morning and I love you every night.

Every breath is love for you, every blink to see you again.

I ache with it.

Nights like tonight, when I’m driven to tears by your absence
Terrify me, because I know that if you knew
If you really understood how much I cared
You wouldn’t run, but you’d shut yourself from me.

You are afraid to love me like I love you,
Even if I try to explain it’s ‘Plutonic’,
It’s just endless love,
That doesn’t matter to you.

And I love you, Katie.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.

I love you so much.

Looking around my empty room--
Truly empty; no books and no clothing, no writings, no bears
I wish my heart were empty too
It’s painful, Katie, this heartbreak you cause me
I wish I could just shut it out--
No more pain and no more tears, no more life of empty fears.

My heart aches.
There’s a pin in my heart,
Someone’s set fire to it,
Someone has pierced me with an arrow,
Stopped the air from my heart’s breath,
Ended me.

Every moment I think of you leaving, that’s what happens.

And I do.
Because you are.

I’m watching you walk away from me,
Powerless to stop it,
And I weep.

“I'm no unicorn, no magical creature. I'm a woman, and I love you, Lir. Don't let him change me! Lir, I will not love you when I'm a unicorn.”

“Amalthea, don't…”

“Then let the quest end here! I don't think I could change you back, even if you wished it. Marry the prince, and live happily ever after.”

“Yes, that is my wish.”

“No. My lady, I am a hero. Heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen. A quest may not simply be abandoned; unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever. A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story.”

“But what if there isn't a happy ending?”

“There are no happy endings, because nothing ends.”

“Schmendrick, let her stay the way she is. Let her be…”

“That's not in the story. Lir knows that, and so does she.”

“You don't care! You don't care what happens to her or to the others, just so you're a real magician at last. You don't care-”

“Well I wish I didn't care! I wish to God I didn't care about anything but my magic! But I do! I do.”

Oh, pray you.
Please, Katie.
Don’t let it end with us like it did for my Amalthea and my Lir,
My poor Amalthea, my poor Lir.

He wanders alone with his battered armor,
Searching for a glimpse of her white pelt
But she fears too much to look at him
And he dies alone in her woods.

Oh, my heart…. My aching, aching heart…

Special

Yesterday, when I was cleaning my room
I found some gift cards with some money on them
Never used them, I guess.

I ordered Sappho, Akhmatova,
and an urban fantasy novel.

Books take me away from being strange.
People who are ordinary fight for their moment in that light,
expecting it to be warm and make them feel special
but it doesn't.
It's blaring and bright green,
it gets in their eyes and makes them stick out in a black-and-white world
and they toss away whatever is different about them
and return to being colorless with a relieved sigh.

I have always been in that light,
but that light welcomes me.
It is not green for me, it is gold
gold like the paint on my wrinkle-less lips
it envelopes me,
and I wear it against your colorless lives.

I'm glad to have new books.
They're as close to new friends as I can get right now,
and I accept them happily.

Still, to be surrounded by that light is tiring
but it isn't the light that wounds--
it's the people who turn away from it,
too afraid to see me for what I really am.

I wish I knew what that was....
but I don't.

Special

The catches of a perfect night
are often betrayed by the talons of morning.

Last night was perfect. There were red Roses, candles, fake wine, salmon and rice and potatoes and crescent roles.
There was Finley in his silly red tie,
and I wore my nicest dress--the red silk--
and it was wonderful.

We knew we were in love.
Not 'in love' with each other, literally
in love,
surrounded by it, breathing it, living it.

We were love.

We went to sleep, and the bed was warm
and Finley was warm against my cold skin
and I was happy.

Totally, completely happy.

And then I slept through Church.

Now, I've helped my Katie at that church for awhile.
I get up early (for me), I go and click through the little slideshow,
I get Katie whatever she asks for as quickly and ably as I can.

There are few people who I would maintain that level of service for.
Katie is one of those people.

Well today--
having had the best night I've had in...
(I'd normally put something sun-related here.
But sunlight's shining elsewhere, poor thing. Stressed out.)
I guess since Katie surprised me by rescuing me from myself.

And church (which is not incredibly important to me in and of itself, I'm there for God)
was slept through.

And I upset my Katie over it.

Katie, who even on my perfect night had been in my dreams--
we were having one of those six-year-old dreams, dancing in a field somewhere, and there were flowers in your hair. You were smiling and happy to see me.

Not really. In real life you were just annoyed that I hadn't shown up or notified you
notified you of a surprise
which is expected, I suppose.

Even people voluntarily giving their time
need to have empathy.
Need to be willing to notify the important people in their lives.

Although I wouldn't really say this to you, favorite, heart
Sometimes I get angry, but I set it apart from me
angry that you don't appreciate how much I'd do for you. 
Do do for you.....

I'm sorry the best night of my life kept me from your smile this morning.
I'm sorry I upset you.

I love you, Katie. 

I'll always love you. 


And you, Finley....

Special: my Finley

I love my Finley.
I love the way he wears a tie when he's planning a surprise dinner,
I love the way he looks like he'd kill the person who caused my tears.
I love the way he'd sacrifice anything to keep me safe or happy (and has).

No other man may lay claim to being as selfless as him.
It's him that answers me when I need help,
him that moves back dinner a few hours so he can "pay back the debt" of me helping him move
by helping me pack my things into boxes, tickling me when I start to frown.

So many other people need to pay me that debt,
and he is the first on my door--
is always the first on my door.

People spend their whole lives searching for somebody like him,
and it's me that found him.
It's me that's holding a perishable gold in my unbattered hands,
one I value and treasure greatly.

People say, 'I want to spend of the rest of my life with him,'
like they have doubts.
I know we aren't perfect, and that things could go wrong
but the more I'm with him, the more I catch glimpses of his smile
despite our growing hardships and developing lives
the more I see that he's there, waiting for me, fighting for me
the more I think that instead of 'I want to'
I should say, 'I will.'

I will give you my forever, Finley--
just because I know you want it,
just because I know it's there.




People are much less fortunate than I,
and I know it.
Sometimes it wounds my heart to know that a good-hearted person with empty pocketbooks,
has less worth than a wealthy man with guilt.

If I were a millionaire,
I wouldn't stay one for long.
I would give my money away--
Cancer, Diabetes, Homeless people, Abused Animals, orphans--
without a single thought, I would do that.

In the end, I'd have a little above average means
but my heart would be gold to my precious and cumbersome world:
I'd have done all I could.



I promise, as soon as I can
I will.










Finley..... my Finley...

Special

Today I found out why I'd been having to play hearts to find anything on the Cash Register:
as a prank, somebody had changed the default language on my account to Spanish.

I got less than ten orders wrong the entire day.

Whoever it was that decided to fuck with me? You failed.

I'm happy to have worked today and gotten things right....

I just wish I weren't by myself tonight.

Special

I feel magic in my bones some days.
Days when words come to me, present themselves like wind through feathers
days I know that I am safe and loved.

Trying to ease someone Else's efforts doesn't mean taking me away.
I am not an effort, I am a friend
I am there to take your hand, hold you when you are sad
are there, too, for love and laughter, Doctor Who and girl movies
(maybe like 'My one and Only' or 'The Mummy').
Then, I don't know what's going on.

Wish FA would just fucking come through for me...

Special

Be okay, Schultz. We love you, please be okay.
You made me nervous enough to adapt my nervous voice, even trying to repress it didn't make it go away.

Schuster's was fun.
I was a good Clown, and things were good.
I'm happy.

Doesn't mean I'm not worried about Schultz,
or happy about being home alone.

Special

Sometimes, love overwhelms Finley. He straightens up and holds me tighter than ever and I know that while we might not have forever, while we're young enough that things can go wrong, or that people can change, that people make mistakes about each other, we have now. We have now and that's WORTH forever.

He nuzzles into me and murmurs my name, and I hear his heart, breathing in the scent of Finley.

"If you could have a romantic dinner," he said to me today, "What would you want?"

I grin, thinking he's joking. "Potatoes," I say absent-mindedly. I'm Irish, after all. When I get angry or distracted, I occasionally pick up the accent. I wish I could talk in an Irish accent all the time; I'm in love with how the syllables flow and fight with each other. I did for a few weeks when I came to Fort Atkinson Highschool. I was so nervous no one would like me that I spent all me times telling funny stories in an Irish accent. Later, Dana Traynere asked me where my accent had gone.

I pretended not to know what she was talking about... but I still love that voice.

"Seriously, Pay. Fish? Salmon?"

"Fish would be nice," I say with a smile.

"And maybe some of that fake wine you like," he said absently.

And then we went to get pudding, Apple Cider, Mint Cookies, start watching Sister Act.

And I realize I'm thinking about my Choir. The one I can't have. Maybe I should find another one.

Ubi caritias et amor
deus ibi est....

I'd be good at it.

Special

Mm. First days of work are vastly different experiences.

For example.

"You should really take off that ring, Payton. It'll cut straight through the gloves." I look at the glove box. They're thin and cheap, so Rhinne is right.

"No."

She stares at me, unused to the sharp edge from the unassuming new employee. "Take off the ring, Payton." This is death voice, I'm pretty sure; a couple heads snap, newer people step away a little without realizing it.

"No." 

Silence.

She stares at me, I stare right back.

"Fine. Let me show you how to check in."

People who are normally jerks can't be outright mean to me at work, but they can certainly make things more difficult for me. Some do, those few who take the time to talk to me are helpful and kind.

I hate this. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Then, there's nothing I can do; I need that money. Finley-Katie-Sorceress-Costume, I chant mentally, over and over and over for my six-hour shift. Finley-Katie-Sorceress-Costume....

That night, I walk into my disheveled house, wonder why all the people who I've helped move can't spare some time for my room, think about all my new classes, all the friends who haven't bothered contacting me. Morgan ignoring me at the football game.

"I miss Schultz," I say to Finley as he's walking towards my door, and then I burst into tears.

Big tears. Shameful boo-hoos. I cry and cry and cry, hating that I can't have what I've always loved, hating everything. "You can't think of one good thing?" Finley asks me eventually, holding me close. I sob into his shirt, struggling to breathe, but I don't want to move from him.

"Don't go," I plead pitifully, "Please, please don't go." I snuggle my head into his chest, and his arms tighten.

"It's going to be okay, Payton," he promised. "It'll be okay, I swear." I hold him.

Only while you're here.

Only ever while they're here.

Special: Mom'll be after me for a birthday list sometime soon, I guess...

Secret Files 2: Puritas Cordis

http://www.amazon.com/Secret-Files-2-Puritas-Cordis-Pc/dp/B002DVYWVW
Naked City (The urban fantasy collection)

Faery Tales and Nightmares (Melissa Marr)

Red Glove
Black Heart (Holly Black)

The Hidden (Jessica Verday)

Flesh which is not Flesh (Jessica Verday)

http://host.pappapak7.com/~abbeysho/item_10/Caspian--5ml-Perfume-Oil.htm

Caspian, my Caspian. You smell like Halloween, and I'd like to invite you to my house.

http://host.pappapak7.com/~abbeysho/item_20/Astrid-Starry-Night-Necklace.htm

I'd like that, too.

Of course, I'd like that Cinderella dress.... it's so pretty.... or a costume picked by someone who knows me well. Knows what suits me.

And happiness. And a cure for diabetes. And money for my friends' lunches, clipboards, pencil sharpeners, cancer treatments, all that stuff.

To be held by twilight...





Not a lot of material stuff, is there?


Mostly though, I'd just like... you know.... Sappho.

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-complete-poems-of-sappho-sappho/1104154730
Or maybe.... SAPPHO.

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/stung-with-love-sappho/1101554081

Or, how about.... SAPPHO!!!


http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/if-not-winter-sappho/1100988737?ean=9780375724510&itm=1&usri=sappho

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Poems-and-Fragments/Sappho/e/9780872205918?itm=6&usri=sappho

And just for Variety, Alcman AND Sappho!

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/greek-lyric-volume-i-sappho/1100752865?ean=9780674991576&itm=7&usri=sappho

But Alcman IS a drunken whore, so he only gets a minute in the spotlight

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-love-songs-of-sappho-sappho/1002981621?ean=9781573922517&itm=13&usri=sappho

And of course, I won't forget you, Akhmatova!

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/complete-poems-of-anna-akhmatova-anna-akhmatova/1101062284?ean=9780939010271&itm=7&usri=akmatova

But please hear me, sister, if it is Sappho they bring me,
then it is Sappho I will carry, Sappho I will hold to me
and Sappho I will whisper to.

It is nothing personal, darling
it just happens that I'm her soul.

Sometimes, I do things I am ashamed of.
Like using my words wrongly, or using me wrongly
but it's always for love, and that troubles me.

Finley, my finley
I miss you tonight.
I want your tender arms around me,
if only for tonight.

I wept when you did not appear
wept when dark and light weren't near
instead I found a friend from old
who has forgiven my 'treachery'.

I talked with him tonight, my Zach
my 'Siragon', my tempremence
and tasted the remembering of Roses on my tongue.

Fingering those threads of my life,
I sigh for them
I close my eyes, I hold my arms together
and I sleep.


I needed a half,
but a Rose found me instead.

Does that mean something?
Does it mean the Roses mean more to me than I thought?
Does that mean the Roses were both halves before I found what is precious to me?

I wept that I abandoned them today.
Wept and wept and wept for the people who said hello as soon as I opened msn,
like a flood in instants--none had forgotten me, no sir.
Not even my Ignio.... not my Michael....

I hold myself together,
and I sleep.

Please, give me one of you to hold soon. Katie or Finley, I don't care which, but soon, please?

And, preferably
both.


I'm selfish enough to ask before the bravery of my Roses flees me....


I hold myself together...
and I sleep.

Special

Katie really needs to stop finding me music I'm tempted to blare in the MATC common room. Seriously, I'm humming along and people are staring. Should have brought my headphones...that's what I get for getting to class three hours early. Shit, I need my own car. Like, now. True, I hate driving. True, I hate living with my parents. True, I hate fore-seeing every possible difficulty I could encounter, the people I could potentially kill.... and there's always something about my time from the Roses where I went out of my way not to touch the metal of the car. I've never liked cars. 
Also, if I'm going to be moving, I should be moving out, not moving into another house... no matter how beautiful.
Anyway.... how'd you know, Adele?

"When the rain
Is blowing in your face
And the whole world
Is on your case
I could offer you
A warm embrace
To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows
And the stars appear
And there is no - one there
To dry your tears
I could hold you
For a million years
To make you feel my love

I know you
Haven't made
Your mind up yet
But I would never
Do you wrong
I've known it
From the moment
That we met
No doubt in my mind
Where you belong


I'd go hungry
I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling
Down the avenue
No, there's nothing
That I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love

The storms are raging
On the rolling sea
And on the highway of regret
Though winds of change
Are blowing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing
Like me yet

I could make you happy
Make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends
Of the Earth for you
To make you feel my love, To make you feel my love..."

Special

On the river, on the river
waves as swift as love is rampant
my sun my moon, together with me
on my river, my river
my loves, my eternity.

Things have happened since then, but I remember their expressions when we tumbled
the silly lifejackets
kindness and love, together, friendship
I will remember this
as I will remember my feet in the water
the shore on my knees
my blood in the water, whisking in the sparkling sun.

I love them.
I love them, and tonight I must remember them
before my fears can overcome me
before I remember Azrael's kisses or forsaken dreams
dreams not mine, ones I don't want.

There is much to write about
but there is nothing else to say.