Who would have thought?

                         I'm strong and enlightened, beautiful and deep, fragile and kind; at least this is what everyone keeps telling me. I feel alone. How do you come to terms with that? I have my mom, who is my best friend in the entire world, and my dad, the hero that of my life. Then why do I feel so alone? I can not trust men. I can not come to think that I can depend on anyone but myself. They all hurt, they through dagger that slice like words. They all take the best parts of me and leave---one way or another.
                        I deserve respect, damn it, I deserve understanding, passion, love, and light-hearted happy days. I am a women, and a phenomenal one at that. So I dare, anyone who things they are gonna put me back in the whole that I clawed my ways out of. I DEMAND equality in my life from all who are in it. You have no right to judge me when I have clearly been through more than little boys wet their beds over. My world was a "horror" movie and what was taken from me is truly a tear-jerker. I am plagued by images, and memories, that cackle up my spine and scream out my eyes. In the silence of the night I fear the little tapping from branches wondering, 'what if the dream is t he tapping?'. I saunter through this ordinary world with its' ordinary people and their ordinary routines. What if your usual days were agitated? 
                       The veil that I shield my self with is epic. The very threads of the armor is composed of words that I repeated to myself, prayers I recited, and faces I hoped to have the honor of memorizing again. I have been bathed in pansophy which isn't always filled with acumen but, still, I can see the reasoning behind it. My mind sometimes feels clouded and foggy. Almost as if I spend my days sauntering through the gentle mists of Avalon. Here we are all equal. The truths though, can be nauseating but the intractability of others has heavier weigh. There is no way to be elusive. I am sitting in the dinning-room and writing this blog knowing that few, if any will so much as realize it's there.
                   The analog dials are spinning, the hands are ticking, and the house is making it's presence alive. I am not alone here, there are those who shift around me. <laughing> I'm used to it. One's mind creates Utopia when it fears altering. If everyone cleaved the true secrets of this world and the people in it chaos would ensue and everyone would be like me. "A little mad". But, see madness is ordinary behind my armor. The faucet is dripping I suppose I should close it before it overflows. I wonder, how many of those out there will ask me how I handle it, if I handle it, or what my nightmares scream at me when I close my eyes. Reality overcomes me and nothing else matters.