Life Through The Eyes of Stacy

When I set my pen to the paper or the cursor to the blank screen, a new energy bursts inside somewhere that I've forgotten until that moment. Like the freedom of running down a dirt path, the feeling of your feet pounding the earth, the wind in your hair. That energy once the pain lets go of your body when you feel like you can run the world... Like in that sensual chase when you've stopped pretending to like the kissing but actually become part of the give and take and you not only want to be touched but you yearn for it, breathe hard in the embrace of the moments and pull and push,twist and stretch for more. When I have an idea blossoming like a new flower in my mind spreading its petals and lifting itself to the sun, It's like feeling all these things at once. I don't remember planting the seed, don't know where it came from or why now but when it starts inside it makes me want to fill papers, journals and books with ...

In the blink of an eye it was over-like the sun descending into the cleavage of the mountains, she was gone...One second standing there in all her breathless beauty like a 5 foot 2 inch beacon of hope with a body and a face to cage her and to ground her here with us then the next she was dead. As if to prove there is a higher power, her soul was so gorgeous no eyes in this world could have witnessed the true vision of her soul and no face that any God could create would reflect the beauty that was inside-An Angel with wings tucked inside her soul-A woman who could not be referred to as just a woman to anyone who knew her but instead a Goddess...She was dead, her very last breath still warm in the air, and her heart which had betrayed her had just beat it's last beat then stopped. It was as if her heart was wired to mine and to my children too because in that moment I swore I felt my heart stop for a second too. I watched her sitting there on the p...

Sometimes it really is the simple things that are the hardest to see and hope is the hardest to feel. I am one of those people who tend to over-analyze things and turn them negatively. From a simple compliment from a friend (What does she mean my hair looks good? Did it look bad before??) to advertisements on television, I am always and forever searching for a double or deeper or less than nice meaning. Never just taking words for how they are said, I often spend hours dissecting sentences. I suppose that makes me who I am as a writer.It gives me the ability to write a sentence or a word and twist it to say what I want. Sadly, and more often, it also feeds my doubt's hunger and leads me to take words and  compliments that are most likely given kindly and turn myself on myself. What is it that makes me this way? What creates such low self esteem and doubt? I can blame any number of things but blame won't get me to finally change. When I used to work at a house for drug and alc...

I want to be able to say I'm sorry and not leave it here. I want to be able to look straight into your eyes, eyes I have never looked into, and say the words that are waiting on my heart like a bird to fly to your ears. Its painful to know that how I really feel you will never hear, to know that no matter how sad I am over how I've treated you, I can not voice it to you. I don't know if I'd know you if I passed by you on the street, if I'd recognize your voice if you called my name.The worst part is that you are so important to my happiness and yet I have done nothing but push you away. I have been building great walls around myself and you...All the time complaining that YOU won't let go of your own...I have made everything that is wrong,sad and heart-breaking to me be your fault. How could I have ever expected you to come to me, to trust and open up to me while I have pushed, lied and closed off all that is inside of me? You fell because I pushed you, was de...

The first time I cut myself with intent to bleed and cause my body pain, I was in a depression that hung like a pea soup in my brain. I was about 15 years old,in 9th grade. Although I had friends from many different grades and groups,I felt alone. Still,I could have been in a group of many all the time and would never shake the feeling of sadness and hurt. When I put the kitchen knife to my left arm I was wanting to finally feel a pain that was controllable as well as understandable. To explain the despair inside and give a voice to my depression was like calling out from a great,deep hole miles and miles from civilization.  No one would hear. No matter how I tried to express myself through my poetry the only way to anyone's immediate attention was sadly.through my skin. Not that it was all about attention. Often I would hide my hands and the many cuts unconsciously with my arm sleeve. I would be in class or home and look down to see that at some point I had pulled down my s...

I am so excited as I write my book that I am curving words to fast,the pages turning out so quickly that I have to S~L~O~W  down.  I want to take great care in building each character~Creating all the details of each person so painstakingly so they hopefully will come alive on the page to the reader.Everything from her appearance to the way she acts to what her favorite book is~I need to be sure to make her so believable that if I were to take her out of the book and put her in a room with a thousand other characters or real blood and skin,breathing people, anyone could point her out. They say to fashion the character to someone you know. OK, that's easy.... Then where she lives. her high school, her family...what is plot, aside stories,the point?? I have it all in my mind~ The character's life is like mine, she will have a past alike to my past but her future? I don't wish to have her stuck in place like me... The hardest thing about writing the book is knowing to shut...

Sometimes we make things as hard as possible for ourselves. Take me for example...Instead of giving up on people who have let me down once and others who break my heart a hundred times,I leave the door to my world open for them with the hope that they will come in and,believing they will change the same behaviors that led them to leave or to have me kick them out in the first place,I have a naive hope(again)that they will stop being selfish and think of others before themselves for a change...How many times should a person give a chance to another human being before finally putting their foot down and saying enough? And how many times do I have to make the same mistake before I stop letting people use my heart as a welcome mat for them to wipe their feet on and mistreat me? Here's the good news. I have closed every door,window and access way that I had for a certain friend. Here's even greater news,since I did, I have been happier.healthier and my outlook is more positive. ...

I know we all wait for January first to count a new year but it seems to make more sense to me now to make it new the day of my Birthday...Yesterday I turned 21...lol.....ok, not 21 but 36, and I am ready for lots of changes.I already started one,I deleted out all of my e-mail accounts that had nothing to do with being healthy and talking to people who truly care for me.I felt great immediately. I am no longer in any place where contact between me and my past is easy. Now, onto my book. I am going back and forth as to whether to write my Novel about me and my life OR a love story of some kind (with parts of it resembling my life). I don't know that a book about ME is something I'm ready for since I don't know the ending yet. Still, what self-exploratory book truly ends concretely? It is okay to write a book with an ending that is the beginning. I know that the non-fiction book about my life will be difficult emotionally as it will span my life and include my being molested...