Of Marionettes...

...

I am not your doll, Sir. Not a mere plaything you can throw into a box whenever you please... and I certainly won't be left here on the shelf collecting dust. I think you should gather your memories of me, and make a mental scrapbook. I won't hang around to be treated as some flight of fancy!

I wish I could find your power button, and switch you off for a moments peace- I should be so lucky. One day you fancy an underwear party....

That's the last time I oblige. You lead me on, pulling my strings with such skill, I could call you a master of puppets. And what of your weaknesses...you must have a fair few. I wish I could find what they were... and play with your mind, as you do mine.

Sleep well Puppetmaster, and remember me, when I pack up my things and leave...

Because No-one Reads These Stupid Things Anyway...

...I may as well write what I damn well please.

I am now utterly convinced that I love you. I'm not even sure why. You're not rich, you don't even resemble 'my usual type' and you are certainly not the gentleman you led me to believe you were. Maybe that's just it. Maybe I don't want to love an illusion. Maybe I want to love something real, and imperfect.

You are so imperfect my dearest knight, and amazing to the point that my blood boils every time I see you. I no longer want just to be your elfin healer, for my magick runs far deeper than in just my hands, and far stronger than you know.

I suppose I am meant to have 'curbed my enthusiasm', as it were, but I have unwittingly and unwillingly fallen harder and faster than imaginable. Maybe I should leave my little elf brains splattered on the wall, for you to remember me by. I doubt you'll manage to get a sensible sentence out of me again for a while.

I had a dream last night, of you and I. We were at a ball, and there was dancing. Turns out you clean up rather well, but then even I managed to look like a lady for the evening. You were wearing a suit, and I a blue satin dress... the colour of the sky at night. I wore diamond earrings, and I stood watching them glinting in your eyes, which had chosen to be more brown than green on that particular occasion. I don't know what this dream represents, if anything, but it was nice all the same.

There is more for me to say. Much more. But you will never lay your eyes upon this, and I am not emotionally equipped to tell you face to face.

I'm just waiting for you to love me, I suppose.

Oops!!

I never did finish my post in the morning, did I? I think my life will end up being just a huge compilation of things that I start, then tire of and never complete. Yes. From here I can see a half empty cup of water, a half eaten swiss roll, and a number of canvases I've started working on this year, that will never see the walls of a gallery or even the outside of this room. The thing that sticks out the most? I could draw a line down the centre of this space, clearly dividing the side I've tidied, and the side I haven't. My own quarters, my own patch of colour in this other dreary grey world- half finished for eternity. That is a scary thought, indeed!

You may notice that I'm writing in many short sentences. Kinda 'spiky' sounding. I like it! It's a bit new for me... I think it's because I'm in a spiky sort of mood these days. More on edge and alert these days. Talking of which- Nigh all!!

As It Occurs To Me- or A.I.O.T.M (A.I.O.T.M)...

... I seem only to be capable of writing blogs at stupid o'clock at night. I ought to be sleeping, soundly, in my own bed for once. After 2 nights on a hard wooden floor, it seems like luxury. That a knave should allow a maid to sleep on the floor!! "Pah!!"
I don't really mind so much. He is a grump in the morning as it is, so I'd rather lessen his burden and have him rest comfortably. If nothing else, sleeping on the floor teaches me to be humble...

Our venture to London yesterday was not a total disaster, but definitely a near miss. I returned without a pierced nose, and little money to my name. Now I must somehow get through the next three days with only £4... I give up??
I spent far too much, and have too little to show for it. At least £40 went on that most essential commodity. Alcohol. Yum. Then, obviously, there was lunch to pay for. Not that I can really call it lunch. It was a snack, really.

*Pause For Effect*

I'll carry this on in the morning... way too tired!! Night, All xx

Another Act...

...another show you play, realise you could not make your problems go away...

And yet the more I pretend I am coping, the more I discover that truly, I'm not. I guess I thought my feelings would gradually grow lesser. Erm... No!! Not in the slightest, in fact. Almost the opposite. In my head, I begin to compile a list of things I 'love' about him. Not 'like' That is worrying, yes??

* I love the way he looks in the morning, when his hair is a total mess and his eyes will only open halfway * I love the face he pulls when he puts his contact lenses in. That little 'pokey out tongue' face * I love that sometimes his eyes are green, and sometimes they are brown * I love that little tuft of hair halfway between his left shoulder blade and his spine * I love (to my own annoyance) when he pings my panties, or my bra sometimes... and he says 'ping' *

I could go on... about how I feel when he pulls me into bed... and other such things. But that's called Masochism. He's told me firmly where we stand. It's not that I don't know. It's more a case of my reluctance to accept it.

So I put on a face... and so I shall, for as long as I must...