The Life of a Premature Metro Goddess

What the fuck happened to passion. What happened to the excitement of everything, the newness in the moments? When did it all stop, where did it all go. Its been this way for so long I can't even identify when I fell over the cliff but I know I fell. But in falling I don't even recall if I reached out to catch the leg, did I tumble or slide. There no signs of scraped knees, no cuts and bruises, but I know I fell. I can feel the hurt. Even though I don't remember, I can sense the scars. The vast canyon that was created in my soul when there's no one there to pull you up, when there's no one there to light the way, when there is no one to look for you. When you are just looking for yourself, but the reflection in the mirror isn't even the same.  Oh God, who is she?!  ...and then you think...   What the fuck happened to passion?

Typing, typing, typing. This whole process seems so foreign to me, and yet I know that I'm extremely competent in the field. I used to be a writer; I know that, it is documented here. I used to sparkle, and held an unwavering optimism, I used to shine, and be breathtaking all because I felt like the world around me sparkled, it inspired unwavering optimism, it shined and was breathtaking...oh how did I come so far. So far from the girl I used to be, the girl she was meant to be, all of her hopes, all of her dreams snuffed out like a short lived flame. She thought she'd fly, she thought her words would matter, she cherished the brightness of her future, she cherished that something within her self that I'm not even sure that I can identify anymore. She is miles apart from me, she's just the girl I used to be and it went so fast it's almost like it hasn't happened at all.

You come in here, Burnt fingertips, Darkness touching lips, And all these lies. Darkness starts to abound you, And the light of my life starts to fade away. Self destruction, Self-destructive. But, if you shift the blame, While shifting eyes, Shifting feet, Shifting stories, I become the destroyer, the one taking lives, and misplacing souls. Destroying yourself, in turn destroying me… …where thou diest, will I die. And the light of my life starts to fade away. Tears fall hard on deaf ears, Pain passes unseen by turned blind eyes. Ignorance is bliss, Bliss is the deception, And the deception comes again, It is the destroyer of things. But I will not let him take you, I will mark this sign upon my house, I will be in observance and bare reverence. I will do all those things And it shall pass over you, And it shall pass over me, And it shall pass over the fruits of the tree. As it were before, Yes, this too shall pass.

I am currently in the throws of some galactic battle, an all out war on common sense, reality, and all those things which should really be important in our day to day. I am planning a wedding. A few years ago pre-engagement, before meeting the man who I had no idea would be the one, I knew exactly what I wanted in a wedding. At this point the marriage part did not factor in because hey, I had time. I wanted the wind, and trees, a few friends, a few family, a pretty simple dress, and him. There was no need for rice and bubbles, doves or bells, poofy hair and perfect nails. I was always that simplistic about my life, hating the showy monstrosity of it all and now I am here. I am here in the midst of the chaotic. 150 people, catering, photographers, dresses, and hair, and centerpieces, and music, and linen jackets to make it dressy enough but not too dressy. Somewhere along the way I lost it, somewhere along the way. I long for the stillness, the quiet, the spontaneous. That stillness of

There are times now when I get the urge to write. Those are moments when I try to hang onto that urge like a little girl chasing fireflies. The moments are so few and far between these days that I play in them as long as I can. Lingering in the words, and the thoughts until they fly away and all I can do is look at what was once there. I keep coming back to why I started writing this blog so many years ago, the so MANY part still being what gets me each time. I am older, I'd like to say wiser, and have learned a few life lessons that have brought me to where I am today. I once saw this life through the eyes of a Premature Metro Goddess, wanted to take on the world. I was sure of what would and what would not, and accepted nothing less, over and out, didn't want to hear anymore...the iron fist had been laid, lain? Anyway... As we speak though, I am not that woman I thought I would be, sometimes I still feel a bit like the girl I once was, but I do know this woman is someone else

So I am about to turn 25 and everyone keeps asking what I want to do, my response of course being I want to party and I guess on some level that is always a good answer from my perspective but lately I have been thinking about so many things; how I feel about my life right now, and what is it I really want? What do I really want for my 25th birthday? A return to optimism, that intrinsic idea that no matter what, things are going to be ok. I love the optimism I have carried with me through this life and it seems to have been ravaged here lately but I miss it fiercely. When I lose it there is this replacement of anxiety that keeps me frozen, and afraid, and worried. I want my optimism, so I will have to take it. I want contentment, the feeling you have after a good day right when you fall asleep in that comfortable position knowing that tomorrow is going to be an even better day, and you fall asleep with a sigh and a smile. I want to remember to reflect on the love in my life, coming fro

Sometimes I think I am a bit of a romantic. I love happy endings and the roads that lead to them. I think the stumbles and tumbles that two people take just to be together are precious and beautiful. I read of love, and watch it in movies, and ever since I was a little girl dreamed about what my love would look like. I played with my Barbie dolls and planned out their lives, always a successful Barbie coming home to her successful husband in their beautiful home, with their beautiful cars but even as a little girl I recognized all the falls that happen in falling in love. And boy did those dolls have some realistic falls. As a child I was always quite observant so to me Barbie dealing with the highs and lows of her interracial love was not a stretch. Barbie home with the kids terrified when Ken, well Steven went off to war and waiting for him to return home to her. Shani searching for Jamal when the imaginary tornado touched down on their RV, all the while endlessly connected in their