Life Through The Eyes of Stacy

Hell's Kitchen didn't record on my DVR because some other stupid show bumped it, I am out of coffee and I am NOT looking forward to tomorrow. It's been a drama-filled night full of phone calls and worry over a family member. My anxiety is through the roof, my head hurts and my heart is beating like a cannon in my ears. I know I stress out too much about the things that I have no control over but its not a choice I make. Even when I sleep the anxiety sneaks into my mind and causes me to unknowingly grind my teeth all night long. I wake up in pain and often my teeth are chipped and broken. My hair is going gray and falling out in clumps and on and on. So, I am going to bed before anymore stress comes my way. Here's to tomorrow being a better day. Love and hugs to all!  Night <3

I stare down at the blankness of the paper~ ...the blinding and white wash of my writer's block reflects back at me with a truth I have not  felt before. I take the pen from the table. I roll it between my pointer finger and my thumb hoping that feeling it there will somehow awaken the writer sleeping within. Like that moment before a vivid and soul-splitting dream just suddenly blinks out and nothing is left but my mind trying to hold fast to even one detail, my mind finds a vast emptiness. My paper and my mind are both blank, uninspired. I quickly pick up my failure, crumple it into a ball and shoot it into the recycling basket across the room. Unlike the  other dozen tries, this one makes it in. A thought finally comes to my weary mind~ At least recycling the paper will be worth more than the nothing that I created with it.

When I look back on my relationships with my brother and especially my sister, I cannot remember a time where things felt right. Especially for me and my sister, when we weren't arguing, or worse, ignoring one another, we were judging each other for mistakes that often, were made by both of us at one time or another. My sister and I  just don't get along and the harder it seems that we try, the worse it gets. I've had to come to terms with the fact that we cannot be friends. I would give her a kidney if she needed it but I can't give a few hours of my day because the stress and arguments that will follow will be worse than just being silent. Now that my brother is out, I am finding myself wanting to spend time with people who remember our beloved Mom. Since Mom's death and my Dads health being compromised by strokes and diabetes,  it means more than ever to have a good relationship with my sister and brother. I just don't want anymore drama. I don't want ...

You know that girl in high school that we all used to whisper about? Let's call her "Girl B" to make it easy. We have all met her... Girl B was the girl who was spoiled by life, genes, and her parents. She was born into a well-to-do family. Girl B was pretty, had a nice body and her parents gave her everything she wanted. She wore the best clothes and had all the newest "toys". We used to look at her with crossed eyes of jealousy while wishing that just one bad thing would happen to her, even if it was a pimple on her perfect face. We whispered to each other that she would be the girl who had a "rude awakening" coming to her....We decided that the "real world" would open up and eat her alive because she had no idea what it was like to want or to need anything.   To spite the fact that we were simply making the judgment based purely on jealousy, we did have it right to a point.  The real world would come alive to Girl B as she would graduat...

What is real about love except the pain it imprints on our heart?  Like my own fingerprints, each heartbreak, each man who let me fall away  has left distinct and  smudged prints here on my eyes so that I see the world and any new love interest  through those marred spots. Like a ghost in my bed,Love lays next to me and steals my sheets, the only warmth I seem to be able to reach for. His invisible arms hold me down as he stirs pain in here and tears fall away from my eyes. What is real about Love except that when it's gone I lay broken. I am me on the outside(save for dark bags around my eyes where Love stole my sleep and I'm thinner because Love stole my appetite) The ghost of "him" is everywhere I go. It's in every book I try to read and in the t.v.  Love is only real when it's over. It's only honest when it's a memory. Love is only Love when it's dead.

The fall leaves afire with hues of oranges, reds and yellows dance in the breeze. Giving into the gentle winds  that flirt and tug at them, they scuttle across the grass  and run every which way. There is no hesitation nor worry in the voyage or life of a leaf... They are also absent of hope. Their life goes on  as long as the seasons let them and until their own bodies, brittle and broken with time, disintegrate and become mulch. Even then they will always be part of something. Why too can't Our love? Trees stand tall and firm, roots spreading into the ground. Their clothing grows and will fall off in the changing months as the wind goes from a warm tickling  in one moment to a frozen rushing the next. Still, their growth is determined  by the seeds from  where they came and from a mixture of sun and rain. They have no anxiety,  no fear of being left behind or need to run away. Time will leave rings upon rings inside of t...