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forgotten canvas

Created on 2009-09-28 16:14:57 (#22794003), last updated 2009-12-24

2 comments received, 2 comments posted

Basic Info
Name:forgottencanvas
Birthdate:09-29
Location:California, United States
Bio
Journals, blogs, etc. I find them notoriously difficult to own. Only because I have this ingrained perception that nothing I write about how I feel is worh being seen and read or commented on by others. That I will never actually be able to truly express my mind or self on these internet pages, and the inadequate summarization or self interpretation of those thoughts and feelings, will be poorly expressed by me in such a medium. If this is true, then when read, it has been a waste of the readers time. If you feel that I have wasted your time, I apologize.

I am 19, or 13... depends on who you ask. I stole half of my body from a boy born in 1981. He's gone, so the deed is in my name now, and I am fixing up the place as best as I can.

I am a mother. I love my child. A lighthouse in my cloudy thoughts. (Emo I know... I am... I don't wear the uniform of the fashion emo kids, I don't write suicide notes, and I DO NOT listen to Hawthorne fucking Heights)

I love music, sound. I love color, art, beauty. I love the soft sensual touch of a woman. I love the firm hard hand of a good and brilliant man with heart and honor.

I am an empath, a shaman, a snow leopard and black panther... the pure yin yang contrast of white and black. I am wolf, less fettered by the lies of human, biped discourse and language, that misguided and delusory perception, the way it builds confidence in false superiority over all things.

I am a girl, not entirely ready to be a woman.

I am a brat. I am a bitch. I am princess of my wishes and hopes.

I am submissive, and a slave to needs I don't grasp entirely.

I am loved. I am hated. I am wanted. I am shunned.

I know where I belong.

I love. I hate. I cry (a lot... it's hormones). I hot flash. I swoon. I caress. I kiss. I long. I yearn.

I am poly. I have a lot of love to give.

I am a forgotten canvas, dirty and stained, abandoned to the attic, damp, scuffed and bent. I could be beautiful... if someone would pick me up, and use their brush,

I am...

Me.
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