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me going on about toki.

he bought me an electric guitar and amp for my birthday, less than three weeks after we first met. the money didn't mean anything - he wanted to share what he loved with me.
he will make me mac&cheese even though it smells like vomit to him; he will wrinkle his nose and never not make it.
he will hold my hand.
he will spoon me in bed, and I will spoon him, and when of us wriggles too much we just get annoyed and giggle.
he has the most impish grin I've ever seen; it's incredibly easy to tell when he's lying if he thinks it's funny.
he finds it hilarious scaring me by beeping the horn just as I walk in front of the car, or by banging on the window in the middle of the night when I get up to have a snack and he's outside.
we went shopping for baby clothes in the middle of the night before I even conceived. we went shopping for scrapbooking supplies and he was as enthusiastic as I was.
I asked for some carrot sticks, so he cut me two (one peeled, one unpeeled, because he couldn't remember how I liked it), arranged them in a circle on a plate, and cut a little heart-shape from carrot and put it in the middle.
we went to the shelter to adopt a kitten. i saw a little black kitty, and he saw her sister who looked identical to his cat wee-wee. we barely needed a single glance to say "we'll get them both". Friday is my little baby, and Mini-Wee is his, and they adore one another and sleep in a two-kitten pile and purr like little engines.
we argue about how to speak proper english, because he speaks cockney english and I speak normal english, and then when he says "free" instead of "three" i make fun of him and kiss him because i love him so much.
when we argue, we pout and say "fine then" and sit in silence and then make up because it's usually never anything notable.
we have both a full male and female name for our baby, both decided (again) before I even conceived.
the only thing we really see differently is vegetarianism; having said that, he is more than happy to buy free-range, humanely-farmed animals to reduce suffering, and I don't tell him that he can't eat meat (because, duh, he can).
I manage the finances, and he brings home the tofu (haha, see how funny we are? we make up jokes like that. and laugh at them. multiple times.)
he asks me if he can spend money on things - a new amp that he wants, a guitar - and I have to remind him that heis the person who earned that money. "but still," he says "I want to make sure it's okay with you. and I value your opinion". he couldn't care less if I spend a grand - he doesn't mind what I do as long as we have enough money to get by. when the sale of the house with his ex-wife came through, we paid off a huge amount of credit card debt, but agreed that we'd keep a little aside for us. "you have $300, I'll have $500" he said. I told him I didn't need $300, but he insisted. he then took it out in cash from the bank to force me to take it. he then asked (yes, again) if he could go an indulge and buy a new guitar, because it's his love, and I said he *should* indulge in finally being free of his ex who never "let" him buy anything, even though he earned most of their income. to that he said "okay, well then, you should have more money". I tried to explain that he didn't need to share out the money - it was his time to indulge, not mine. he then got frustrated and said "fine, spend as much as you like!". I said "okay, can I spend $700?" and he said yes, and so I paid his car rego with it. ha ha! anyway, that's our financial life. "can I buy a CD?" yes. "can I buy some books?" yes. "can I buy some maternity clothes?" yes. "I'd love to get birth photography, especially as this might be our only child, but it's pretty expensive - what do you think?" he saw about 5 pictures and said "yes, get the best pack" $1,000, done. "I'd love to have a home birth, but all up the midwifery cost is around $5,000 ... do you think we can - " yes, of course! the money doesn't matter - I want you to be comfortable.

seriously. I can't really explain what makes me love him, because these are all external and at least partially superficial things. I love the way he makes me smile all the time, even when he's rambling on. I love being with him, and miss him when he's not around. I love his silly and unfunny jokes, I love the way he loves me and takes care of me, I love his silly little quirks, I love how beautifully we gel. I love that if I start using a phrase, he'll pick it up, and vice versa. I love how whenever I have a crazy idea, he'll almost instantly jump on board without hesitation. I love that he's intelligent, and good at this job (UNIX system administrator) but he's also really great with handyman things around the house. I love how we pretend-argue over things around the house, being petty over silly things, and it all plays out like some big game. 

and then my computer froze and deleted the rest of this, so fuck it. me + toki are happy and will be for a long time

nuncles in <3

UPDATE:

actually, toki sucks because he always puts yums (pizza and donuts) in the fridge, and they taste sooo much better when not refridgerated, and even if you heat them up in the microwave it's not the same and so i hates him for bad donuts. the end.
  • Current Mood
    sick
  • Tags
bella

sometimes I am so sad

and I can't make it go away.

and so I sit.

and wait.

wait.

w             a                    i                               t

and maybe

if I wait long enough

it will pass

bella (L) n. nominative, plural  : her wars  

delights&angers (I guess that's the way it's supposed to be):
please heal me
I can't sleep
thought I was
u n b r e a k a b l e
but this is killing me
blue

(no subject)

There is a man that I know
For seventeen years he never spoke
Guess he had nothing to say
He opened his mouth on judgement day
I listened with all of my might
But was scared by the look in his eyes
Like he'd already lost the fight
And there was no hope ever in sight

No hope in the air,
No hope in the water,
Not even for me,
Your life serving daughter

I have seen men provoked
I have watched lives revoked
And I looked at my life and I choked
And from there, no more ever has spoke

Why fear death? 
Be scared of living
Our hearts are small and ever thinning
There is no hope ever of winning
So why fear death? 
Be scared of living

But I won't give up that quick
My life is a candle and a wick
You can't put it out but you can't break it down
In the end, we are waiting to be lit

There's hope in the air
There's hope in the water
But no hope for me, your life serving daughter

A friend is a friend forever
And a good one, will never leave, never
But you've never been south of what comes out your mouth
You will never understand, ever

Speak minds handed down to you
By the lies handed down by your truth
Your angels that dance at your will
Will mask your scrambling youth

I forgave you your shortcomings
And ignored your childish behavior
Laid a kiss on your head
And before I left said,
"Stay away from fleeting favour"

Oh, pick up your rope, Lord
Sling it to me
If we are to battle, I must not be weak.

And give us your strength, World
and your food and your water
Oh I am your saviour, 
Your life serving daughter

There's hope in the air
There's hope in the water
But sadly, not me, your life serving daughter

There's hope in the air
There's hope in the water
But no hope for for me
Your last serving daugher
  • Current Music
    Laura Marling - The Captain and the Hourglass
  • Tags
window

(no subject)

when i woke gasping in water with his fingers down my throat he held me close for safety and wouldn't let me leave. he told me ghost stories that I never believed and I let him take my virginity with his skilled fingers & body. nothing else mattered.

we held hands in darkened theatres watching movies with subtitles that made me think about life. we never introduced our families; i liked it with just me and him in the house reading books and playing music. he played the guitar sometimes but never when I was in the room, so I'd sit outside the door, closing my eyes and pressing my cheek to the floorboards as i listened to his deep voice.

he was twenty-six, a few years older than me. he made me feel safe, and not alone, even in the pitch black of night when the house made noises and the devils worked. i think we both felt a little bit weird, like outsiders who were never going to feel comfortable around other people. we had friends but it was never the same - drinking and laughing and falling down and getting back up again wasn't the same.

i don't remember his name. it was something i had to forget. he told me, you can't die. you can't die. and i promised him i wouldn't, but he never gave the same to me, and so his body was buried and i went home to my empty house and i cried.
window

(no subject)

close your eyes & fall back with me. 

where we are going there is no
wait. stop. 
beneath your stained fingers and bloody toes, under your softened mattress that smells like sweat and myrrh, open your secret locket and tell me where you will die.

there's a little girl in a plain white dress standing next to the lake where the fish once swum. the cat has wandered off and laughter echoes in the background but she sees only water and earth and sky. forever, forever it stretches, and she cannot see that far. toes in the water, artemis calls to her, beckoning her to leave the safety of her torture chamber. the light refracts; she splits in two. 

{can't stop what's coming}
on the very edges of space, where photons dance a slow waltz and nothing exists, there is a place called home. from the front window you can see the lawn of stars mottled in patches of blue and green, orbs of close planets like miranda and ariel hanging like lights from the limbs of darkness. in the mornings it is evening, and at dusk we embrace the day, and everything never changes and is always something else. death visits on tuesdays to feed the cats and sometimes he lets me sit on his bony knees or try on his cowl if I promise to close my eyes. the witch down the hall is young and pretty with long white hair and a blush on her cheeks - we swap recipes and kiss under the full moon at four a.m. when I go to sleep I crawl into my little river and wake up a girl on the bank.


window

he will burn

Christmas Eve 2011 and I've finally accepted that he's an abusive partner. Not extremely, but his substance and alcohol abuse brings it out.

If we are arguing he frequently aims to hurt me by saying untrue and insulting things. He gets angry that his substance abuse upsets me and vilifies me for not wanting to frequently drink. He's a cunt and he will not change no matter how ideal he might be sober.

I will not be used.
river

(no subject)

Drowning. Drowning. The water gets heavier, it seems, pulling me down from the inside. It hurts and seeps and it won't be long before it leaks out of the cracks.

I don't know what's real inside me anymore. I keep being told I'm wrong, and wrong, and wrong, and I just can't understand.

Nothing I do will be ever be enough. I want to bleed out. I want to survive and show how much stronger I am. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know how to deal with this pain. Blood and blood and blood is all I know. Why am I so horrible and disfigured? If not in body then soul. That's why I hate myself - because I see what only those who have loved me see - a stygian black pit. I am nothing. Worthless. What I give means nothing. I am never enough. I wanted to be more, but I wasn't. Am not.

I have a work Christmas cruise tomorrow. Then razorblades and alcohol and sweet little deaths while I am still alive. I don't want to die. I just need to carve out the pain.

Nobody sees when I try. When I do things right. They just see every fuck up. And I see that. And I hate myself.