How do you cry pretty tears?

Ok so I don’t remember why I wrote this, but it’s very depressing.  So instead of doing what “normal” people would do, I decided to post it. J I call it:

How do you cry pretty tears?

I have had dreams, dreams that I was never supposed to dream,

Dreams I was never meant to have,

And yet I think on those dreams night after night wondering.

Wondering why they torture me so.

Why do they fill me with questions I dare not ask?

Why do they make me urn things I should not?

Why do I feel as though I’m falling into the hidden places of the night?

Is there nothing I can do to stop these dreams that plague me?

Can there be no answers to my questions?

Is there no end to the loneliness I feel when I realize that the dreams are not mine?

How can the world be so cruel?

Offering me a chance to seek out love and then ripping it away for the benefits of others.

God did not create his children to be alone,

And yet, here I am dreaming of a lover whose love can never be mine.

Many lovers come, but none of them are mine.

When will it be my turn to be wrapped in a lovers embrace?

I am no longer a child, who dreams of knights in shining armor;

Those fantasies have long since vanished.

How does one mourn for the loss for a lover’s dream?

How do you cry pretty tears when the thing you long for the most was never to be yours to being with. 

My Bucket List

ð        Learn Russian

ð        Go to Moscow

ð        Make/invest in plaid highlighters

ð        Learn the violin

ð        Learn to play the saxophone

ð        Learn a song on the banjo

ð        Write and publish a book

ð        Write a musical

ð        Learn Native American (language)

ð        Learn and sign ASL fluently

ð        Meet Jonny Depp

ð        Make a short film

ð        Be a foster mom

ð        Write a song

ð        Learn the piano

ð        Fly through all of Russia’s time zones

ð        Be in a commercial

ð        Be an extra in a movie

ð        Play a role in a movie

ð        Be a maid-of-honor

ð        Sing the National Anthem at a baseball game

ð        Date an Asian

ð        Meet Julie Andrews

ð        Learn how to speak with a Russian accent

ð        Learn to speak a perfect British accent

ð        Own my own bookstore

ð        Be on Broadway

ð        Visit an Indian reservation in South Dakota

ð        Meet an Indian medicine man/women

ü Make a friend who is Deaf

ð        Date a baseball boy

ð        Go on a date with a guy in the Marines

ð        Go on a date with a guy in the Navy

ð        Date an Indian (Native American)

ð        Meet Hanz Zimmer

ð        Meet Steven Spielburg

ü   Cross something off my bucket list-October 31,2012

ð        Go to Rome

ð        Visit Greece

ð        Be a bridesmaid

ð        Go to Montana just because I can

ð        Own a private jet

ð        Go see Stonehenge

ð        Go on a cruise to Alaska

ð        Go on a cruise to Jamaica

ð        Campout on the Great Wall of China

ð        Have my portrait painted

ð        Be the voice of an animated character

ð        Win a Tony Award

ð        Fall asleep watching the stars

ð        Go on a real camping trip

ð        Get invited to a party and not go to it

ð        Get invited to a party

ð        Dance with a guy in a restaurant with no dance floor in the middles of the day

ð        Have a song written about me

ð        Be awesome on the drums

ð        Be in a flash mob

ð        Get proposed at an Astro’s game on El Grande

ð        Act with Kirk Cameron

ð        Be told that I made a difference

ð        Go on a date where we watch Disney movies

ð        Learn to sew

ü  Be a 1920’s flapper girl for Halloween

ð        Own a legit flapper dress

ð        Design the blueprints for my dream house

ð        Spend the night on the beach waiting for the sunrise

ð        Get kissed on New Year’s Eve

ð        Get a license plate that says: Cheez

ð        Date a guy from a foreign country

ð        Be in a foreign country and told I have an awesome accent

ð        Go on a picnic in a valley of wildflowers

ð        Grow a flower garden with sunflowers as tall as me

ð        Go to a symphony

ð        Have someone get me a gift that they never knew I wanted

ð        Have a music box made using my favorite song

ð        Randomly start performing in a park

ð        Go to Disney World

ð        Be in a photo shoot

ð        Be a mythological creature in a photo shoot

ð        Be in a music video

ð        Buy a horse and name it Chivalry

ð        Learn how to do calligraphy

ð        Make a Christmas CD

ð        Sing in a recording studio

ð        Dance with someone in a rainstorm

ð        Touch the base of the Eiffel Tower

ð        Go to a concert

ð        Be in love

ð        Actually enjoy Valentine’s Day

ð        Have a memorable first kiss

ð        Fall in love with a guy whose my best friend

ð        Learn to play the cello

ð        Learn to play the flute

ð        Be in a Disney movie

ð        Start a comic book collection

ð        Write a screen play

ð        Someone shout “daaaaame!!” when I walk by

ð        Make the Dean’s list

ð        See snow on Christmas

ð        Have a snowball fight

ð         Get all of Bing Crosby’s records

ð        Make a collection of Danny Kaye’s films

ð        Watch a silent film with friends and make up the dialogue

ð        Go mattress surfing

ð        Design a knock-out dress

ð        Learn to belly-dance

ð        Learn to Salsa

ð        Learn to Latin dance

ð        Figure out Morse Code

ü Be giving a sign name

ð        Go to Italy just to eat the pasta

ð        Go to Radio City Music Hall

ð        Lift my leg above my head while standing

ð        Go to a public place and pretend to be Deaf

ð        Own recording equipment

ü  Learn something new about myself

ð        Have a room completely covered in mirror’s like a dance studio

ð        Go karaokeing and rock the house

ð        Get a standing ovation

ð        Be given an encore

ð        Learn to swing dance

ð        See The Lion King on Broadway

ð        See Wicked on Broadway

ð        Perform “Be Prepared” on stage before a large audience

ð        Perform at the Apollo

ð        Go see a Deaf theatre performance

ð        Perform in a Deaf theater

ð        Learn the guitar

ð        Go to Bollywood

ð        Buy $10 worth of food and pay with quarters, nickels, and dimes

ü  Convince someone I’m from another country

ð        Throw the first pitch at a baseball game

ð        Learn to sing harmony

ð        Learn to sight read

ð        Learn to read music

ð        Have a black friend corn-roll my hair

ð        Eat fried oreo’s

ð        Eat fried ice cream

ð        Make tee-shirts. 

Trial Read

The phone rang. “Lizzy can you answer that for me?” Josephine asked, her hands covered in oil. Lizzy looked up from her English homework.

“Sure Mo” she said jumping to the phone. “Hello” she answered, “oh hi Addy, how are you doing?” Josephine listened in as much as she could. “No dad’s not here right now, why?” she questioned. “Sure she’s right here one second” Lizzy said looking over to Mo. “She want’s to talk to you,” she held out the phone. “Hmm I wonder why?” Mo said drying her hands on a dish towel, “Thank you Lizzy” taking the phone from her. Lizzy turned and went back to the table. Smiling Mo spoke,

“Afternoon Ms. Parker, is there something I can help you with?” She leaned up against the door way. “Is there something wrong?” Lizzy heard this and turned towards the conversation. “Well have you tried calling the base?”  By this point Lizzy was standing next to Mo leaning in to hear the conversation. Mo looked to Lizzy, “can you go get the mail and bring up the trash cans for me?”  Lizzy knew by now that Mo wasn’t asking if she wanted to do it, “Sure Mo” she said. After she left Josephine continued to talk to Adelaide.  

“No I don’t know when he’ll be back but I can leave a massage if you want me to.” She told her. Just then she heard the kitchen screen door open. Ryan walked in wearing his uniform. Josephine stopped Adelaide in mid-sentence. “Actually Adelaide he just got in.”

Ryan paused when he heard her name. Josephine spoke, “hold on Adelaide” she set the phone down on the counter top. “She wants to talk to you Ryan, said it’s important,” and with that Ryan stepped past Josephine and grabbed the phone.

“Hey Adelaide,” he spoke immediately he knew something was wrong, “Adelaide what’s wrong?” Worry filled his mind. “Adelaide, please you have to calm down I’ll be there in ten minutes. Okay, okay I’m leaving now” he hung up the phone. “Mo can you watch the kids tonight?” he asked.

“Sure, what’s wrong with Adelaide?” she asked. He shook his head, “I don’t know but she sounded really upset.”  He wrapped his arms around Mo and kissed her forehead, “thanks mom.” Josephine smiled, “you’re a good son Ryan, go now she needs you.”

Without another word Ryan was out the door and driving to Adelaide’s apartment. As soon as he was in the parking lot he jumped out of his car and ran to her apartment. He knocked on the door, within seconds Adelaide was at the door. She slowly opened it, allowing Ryan to step in and close the door behind him. Adelaide immediately fell into his arms and began sobbing. Ryan held her close “shh” he tried to calm her, rubbing her head. “Shhh, Addy calm down” he told her. She stepped out of his arms and whipped her tears away with her sweater. “I’m sorry Ryan, I didn’t mean to get your uniform wet.” She apologized, Ryan pulled her back into his arms, wanting her there, needing her there. He wanted nothing more than to protect her from the world, “No, don’t apologize” he tightened his arms around her.

Adelaide was distort and disoriented, but she felt safe and secured in Ryan’s arms. She didn’t want to tell him, she didn’t know how to tell him. Simply thinking about it made her eyes water. Ryan loosened his arms but did not let go of her. She stood in front of him fighting a losing battle. Ryan saw it on her face; with his thumb he whisked away the remaining tears from her eyes. “Now tell me what’s wrong”, she pulled away from him and walked to the loveseat. She sat down and covered her face with her hands. Ryan walked over to the loveseat and sat next to Adelaide, he rubbed the smalls of her back gently. “Please don’t hate me” she said never removing her hands. “Why would I hate you?” He asked. She mumbled something under her breath,

“What? What did you say?” he asked. “I’m pregnant” she whispered, but still Ryan did not hear it. “I’m pregnant” she repeated louder her voice breaking as she spoke. “You’re…preg…pregnant?” Ryan didn’t know what to say or how to respond to what he just heard. He stood from the couch and moved to the window. He covered his mouth with his fingers.

“Well say something” she said “please!” she looked up at him, “Ryan?” “When did you find out?” He asked, trying not to explode. “Last week” she told him shaking uncontrollably. “H…how far along are you?” A sickening feeling rose up inside her, burning her throat. “About…” she started, covering her mouth and running to the bathroom. Ryan ran after her stopping at the door when he heard her gagging. The lights were off and the door was wide open. Ryan could see Adelaide crouching over the toilet holding her stomach with one hand. “I’m sorry” she whimpered, flushing the toilet. Even with no light Ryan could see how weak she had become. It hurt and angered him to see her like this.

Adelaide struggled to lift herself to the sink. “I am so sorry Ryan” she began to cry. She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck. “Ryan I don’t know what to do.” She turned to him, looking at his face, “Ryan I don’t know what to do.” She turned to him, looking at his face. “I can’t have this baby.” Fear was written across her face, she buried her face in his uniform.

Poor Pitiful Me!

I honestly wish I was just posting another one of my stories, but unfortunately it's not. I don't care if anyone ever see's anything that I've posted or written. I don't care if I ever get a comment on anything. I don't care any more. I'm done, I can't take it any more. I'm sick and tired of pretending like everything in my life is okay when it feels like its falling apart. I'm tired of feeling the way I'm feeling. In truth I feel so broken, physically and mentally.
I have always held back trying to spare others from my pitiful little world when they have their own to deal with. But where does that leave me? Me with no one to talk to or turn to when I have a problem. I have tried so hard to figure things out for myself, but I end up falling on my butt because I screwed up. And on top of that I have no one there to tell me what I did wrong, so I keep making the same mistakes over and over.
So this is my pathetic story of woe, yea me!
Lately I've been really thinking about my life and what little I have done in the last 18 years. How could you even consider my life worth living? I started college and started a dance class, and I ended up loving it. And every time I would come home bruised and sore my mom would say " I told you so..." But I didn't care I wanted to dance. I didn't go because I wanted to learn about Jazz dance, I went  because  I wanted to learn how to dance on Broadway. But little did I know what dancing was doing to my body.
I was born with flat feet and I excepted that, I didn't think it mattered much. There are tons of dancers with flat feet. But apparently every time I did a chasse or jete I was pretty much landing on my joints and bones, with nothing there to adsorb the shock. On top of that I broke my ankle twice when I was little and have really weak ankles. Now I sprained my ACFL ligament in my left foot.
The doctor told me that my foot was like a rubber band that has been stretched out too much and can't hold anything together anymore. I don't need surgery, but he did say that it would have been better to break it. How could I not know about this? And now just when I find out that I'm some what good at dancing they tell me I can't do it anymore. I can't dance.
I have been hurting my entire life. From my neck, and my back, and my feet. And for once I just wanted the pain to be worth something.
I can't break down and I can't cry, no matter how much I really want to. I have isolated myself for too long and can no longer find comfort in my solitude. But what is it that I'm afraid of? Why can't I reach out? If anyone could answer these questions then maybe I could start fixing myself.