There has to obviously be something I'm missing...some correlation between the two that I just don't see...
These days my family is insistent upon things I don't see and apparently that I'm doing that is detrimental to myself.
I don't see them, or at least, not all of them. That's honesty.
This is a door
This is a window..
They're points of entry way to one's home and if used correctly they provide a non-coerced entry into ones home. When denied entry, they can be used against the owner of the home in the fits of a forced entry.
Maybe, I'm not ready for this...for him..
There are no doubts in my mind that I want the All-Star and that he would be an ideal man for me, however..as a single man if you cant control your chickens then one should clean out the coop.
Just a thought.....
I don't do stalkers. Surprise visits-at least by parties that should know its not their place to surprise me, because I actually LOVE surprises; Doorbells ringing 4 times at minutes to 2am; People who wait outside of peoples homes, etc.
This is the correlation: The one human that I loathe, my mother, as much as she didn't raise me because we have no connection with one another she inadvertently trained my mind that I'm too good to chase after any man on this planet. A combination of my looks, intelligence and pride is too much for me to stalk any man. Any. And though I have grown to despise her more, we both share the same sentiment of confusion when women stalk men. WORSE so, if this man is not your husband.
It's something that leaves my mind truly blank.
The only thing that fills the space is that the more I draw close to this man, the more I feel and I'm throwing myself at him, meanwhile he's throwing himself at everyone else.
All of us chickens in the coop get fed, but some are apparently laying golden eggs, some of them just plain white eggs and I'm failing to produce at all. We're all aware that we're part of a coop..all "97" of us "chickens" but the name of the game is who is going to be the farmer's favorite.
Or in the end will the Farmer just pick a pig instead..
All it evokes in me is fear.
I don't know if I should be more fearful of the other chickens trying to pluck my feathers off one by one, or of knowing that I'm not the only chicken that the Farmer wants is just as painful as grabbing a handful of my feathers at one time. Or should I fear like the other chickens that he may not choose any of us, but a totally different animal..one we've never saw coming.
And as I laid awake, hearing a chicken ring door bells, and wait outside of a home in full on stalker mode to get to the farmer..I fought my tears.
Tears of gratefulness that maybe, Mother dear was good for something besides destroying my soul-she made me too prideful to call a man back more than once, to ring doorbells and wait outside homes.. Tears of guilt, that someone has to feel something for the Farmer the way I do..to stalk. Tears of anger and frustration that if I ever became the chosen chicken, will it always be a life of someone lurking around in efforts to pluck all my feathers?
But I didn't cry in front of the Farmer..I won't open up my soul that much until a soul is opened up to me; a mistake I've made too many a time before. And I didn't cry driving home, even though the heat of my tears brimming burned my eyes.
But I cry now, at home.
Upon entry, after a fight with my mother, upstairs behind a closed door, I can cry now.
Cry over losing her.
Cry over always being left in the coop.
Cry in absolute fear.
I can cry now.