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A Mistaken Love, by Starryeyes 
04:00am 16/07/2003
mood: sore
* this is a story about someone i trully loved but he didn't love me in return.. and i thought i express how i felt by writing this*

A Mistaken Love
By: Starryeyes.

The devastation almost caused me to have a heart attack. I did something that was considered valiant but risk taking. I was a firefighter in this battle of love. A love that gone all-wrong, because I was inadvertently tricked into thinking he loved me back. The stupidity, the embarrassment, the pain, all wrapped up into cannoli of truth. He didn't love me in return.

When I look back my naivety set me up for the heartbreak. I was enamored by his smile, his wit, his intelligence, and his sweetness. He was in my vision the perfect guy for me. He was an angel dropped for the heavens, a gift to me. We started out as co-workers and then developed into a friendship. We went out to a movie or two. It was wonderful it felt like being outside on the perfect summer night, with a slight breeze wiping through your body. If there was a male equivalent to a seductress, he was it.

Months went by with me blushing, and applying making up daily. Lips gloss to accentuate my lips, tighter pair of jeans with a nice top. A few more " bend and snaps" to catch his attention to my body. Make sure my eye shadow was a perfect shade, so they make my emerald eyes stand out more. My hair, back then to my shoulders, i neatly pinned back. I was ready for this guy, I was ready for to be his girl, I was ready to an oath of faithfulness, and love to him. I was ready to love.

Yet things were going according to plan. Didn't ask me to go to movies anymore. Didn't seem to want to talk to me IM as much, never called me. All the burnt CDs he gave me out of the blue, the books he let me borrow, and the nice things he said. The fact that he always came up to me, sat next to me, stood next to me to talk. Then suddenly, what went wrong?

It became an agonizing process, to think that all of sudden he just stopped doing all these wondering full things with me. What did I do? What did i say? What made him just stop wanting to be close to me outside of work? A friend of mine, God bless his heart, got tired of bitching and moaning and suggest that i just tell him i feel. For the longest time i rejected that idea, because i knew the fear and the pain it would cause. But i could have kicked myself for not listening to my feelings more often, because i did exactly what he told me to do. This is where my downfall came about.

The letter to him on how I feel about him sealed my doom. As I waited for him for two days to respond, he finally did. His words were honest, yet stringent, and stinging to me. The return letter started out with “ I can’t say I reciprocate your feelings.” It was harsh, but direct and to the point. He then said stuff like. “ Your friendship is on a differently level than school, work and home.” Whatever that meant. He continued to say “ Our friendship was formed without biasness, I couldn’t tell any of my friends things because then it wouldn’t be kept secret, where I can tell you, and that is invaluable to me.” Through the automatic drip of tears searing down my face, it sounded to me that he didn’t want to hurt me. Yet he needed to be honest.

Unfortunately, this didn’t stop me from feeling awful about myself. He didn’t find me attractive of enough. Perhaps I was just too fat, too ugly, too this or too that for him. It was not directly implied, nor explicitly stated why. All I knew is that he didn’t love me. It hurt my head to think about him, but it not as bad as is charred my heart. My whole entire being, and soul was tarnished. Wounds were scratched open, and then began to bleed.

Day later was the torment of self-hatred. Anger just flooded my body, and I want to kill someone. On message board, we both frequent, I am hearing say sweet nothings to other women, people he has never met before in his life. Yet, he couldn’t say that to me. It drove into madness, beyond one can ever recognize. Crying every night, punching pillows, and snapping at my family and friends were the side effects of this disease. I just wanted to die. I was dying emotionally. I kept it in for his sake. I acted like nothing was wrong things were cool. I got pissed once or twice for things that bothered me. He never could understand why, but you try being a woman who sprit was broken, and you see.

Months went on and I was feeling this way. At work we acted like everything was cool. On birthday, he gave me a gift, and said to me, “ I want you to have fun.” I must say working at an after school program had it’s perks. We were rolling in the leaves that day, and I couldn’t get up. He stood above gently places his hand out to offer me help. I had to refuse it, a skinny boy like him trying to lift a heavy girl like me, more likely than not, one of us will get hurt. I thanked him though. My birthday was graced with his usual gentleness and care, the best way he can demonstrate care for someone. The day of respite from the pain, and the heartache, was on my birthday. It was a relief. I made me rethink things, my way of thinking, and how thought about him. I understood where he was coming from. That wonderfully perfect day, he placed fourteen stitches on my wounds. I was in heaven, even if it was for one day.

They say time heals all wounds, and I can’t deny that is true. For my “ex-love interest”, and I became friends again, and we are back to the beginning, somewhat. Nowadays we are not as close as we use to be. He has being dealing with some private things that I understand can be tough on anyone. He is has a strength in him unbeknown to anyone I have ever known. He still remains sweet and caring. Once the blind were pulled away from eyes, the fact was Friendship meant more to him than anything else. He never wanted to hurt me, and he demonstrated that time and time again. I still at time feel physically inadequate for him, and it still hurts things he says on the board. Often times ignoring the fact that I have known him longer than anyone else. For some reason, he refuses to let people know that. Now, I don’t let it bother me. I have other things to worry about in my life and things I need to accomplish.

My moral of this story is open you eyes to what is really going on. You got to see the bigger picture, and love doesn’t necessarily meaning having to date someone. You can love a friend just as much. But not as important as loving yourself first.
Diamond by lostintwilight 
03:10am 09/07/2003
mood: okay
"I'm winding down, I'm growing tired," Martha sighed. "Goodnight", she added as she retired to her room to write in her journal.

"You were once my friend. Now I know I can't tie your hands." She scratched onto the notebook paper. Things had been so great when she started. Ok, ok, not great. Not great at all. That simply wasn't the correct word. "Easy" was much more fitting. When she first started walking the streets at night, things were easier. She was young, she was beautiful, they paid well, and they didn't beat her ass. But now things we're different. She was in her 40's. Crow's feet appeared in the places around her eyes she used to decorate with cheap glitter when she smiled. Now she found so little work that writing took up her time more often than not. Another sigh.

"Scenes of my life seem so unkind. Time chasing time creeps up behind." She continued. The beatings, the rapes, the stolen money she'd sold her soul for. The way they all looked at her. The phone calls where Mama would make excuses to hang up. No one wanted anyone knowing they had a prostitute for a daughter or sister. Not even an old ex prostitute. But Mama had cleaned up her life, gotten off of drugs, Martha thought. But she, "Diamond" had not. Diamond is dead. In her place is Rust.

"The days I saved I couldn't spend. They fell like sand through the hourglass
No time to lose, no time to choose." She wrote. "I never even got a day off," she mumbled. Never ever got the chance to pretend she wasn't some whore. How bad she had wanted to take the bus up town to see Mama. To say she was sorry for everything. But time had crept up, and soon Mama's time had run out. "Don't even bother coming to the funeral." Martha's sister had waved a finger in her face as she said it. It choked her up just to think about it. God, why? How I could I fall so far, so far away from every I held dear? She pondered it a moment. Then returned to writing.

"An enemy I can't defend. My final place a deadly end. Life's just a speck in space. Dreams of an eternal resting place." The thoughts often came to her at night. That it would be nice to die. No more shooting up, no more cutting where no one would see, if they cared at all. No more crying. No more arguing inside myself, do I do it, or do I just keep on trying. She didn't know anymore. "I can't get any younger. Time has brutal hunger ." She cried aloud as she wrote it down. Then she shuttered, hoping that the other women, the ones who were still young, pretty, and hungry and got all the men, that those women would not hear her.

"Father time, I'm running late." She said to herself with disgust. She just had to get this short little nap in before it was time to try and get some work for the night. I just have a little bit more to get now, she thought. "I can't run forever, and time waits for no one. Not even me." She concluded. She shot up one more time and laid down for a while, just a while, she thought. And I'll try harder tonight. But this was the last time. And the other women would remember her by the 149th page, and the words that would haunt
No Submissions for June. 
02:14am 04/07/2003
mood: hopeful
Hello everyone. Obviously June went by without a submission. I apologize for that, and will work on more things to submit in addition to courting you all for your submissions.

In other news: I have decided to allow you all to advertise your e-zines in this e-zine. I figure we can boost each others readership!
May 2003 Issue Gathered Together Now 
10:09am 01/06/2003
mood: hopeful
The May 2003 issue is now gathered together in the memories section as what else, the May 2003 issue. ;) Start thinking about submissions for the June 2003 issue. Check out our userinfo for the 411 on submitting.
To My Father by Annaleigh Watts, 5/25/2003 
01:21pm 25/05/2003
mood: accomplished
"I wrote this poem originally in January of 2000. It was intended for an anthology of writings and artwork by child abuse survivors, but the anthology never came to frutition. This poem is about my experience with emotional and physical abuse from my father, the emotions I stuggled with, and the half-resolution I came to. I hope you enjoy it, and if you can relate, I say be strong." ~ Annaleigh Watts

When I wasn't more than two,
my life was good, sweet, and new
but in a short while,
you seemed to change, acted strange
and what went on in our home no one really knew

No one bothered to ask
why my Daddy was dead in my eyes
how the first man in my life makes me cry
or find out that my Daddy was gone
and a MONSTER was left in his place

I'd forgotten the father I knew before
and still everyone told me
that you loved me, took pride in me
those memories didn't remain
but you don't know how I'd prayed they were true

After many years, the day finally came
the abuse was over, the liquor haze lifted
and for the first time I saw a father's love in your eyes
It was more than I hoped for,
no more pain, tears, fear or shame

My happiness didn't last long
I will never forget the night you died
Even though I feel you're in Heaven now,
where you belong
I still grieve over the Hyde who hurt me so
and my beloved father who I barely knew
and it kills me to know they were one and the same,
yet separate too...

Just know this Daddy, that I love and miss you...
     Read 1 - Post
The Sick Water by Annaleigh Watts, 5/25/2003 
01:18pm 25/05/2003
mood: bored
I hobbled out my door, and into the snow. It was nearly Christmas time, and I wanted to make sure the boy who chops my firewood knew what he was doing. That, and just to give him an encouraging word. I called out "John!". "Mrs. Ford!" I heard from the clearing. John came running up and I gave him a hug. He showed me the wood, and I smiled and thanked him. I would be ready for the bitterest part of winter. Then I pointed to the stream, and asked John, "Are you ready for going to water? The new moon is almost here. When you dunk your head in the water for the seventh time, what kind of prayers and supplications do you plan to give Grandfather Moon?"
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11:10pm 23/05/2003
mood: awake