His Inspiration

His Inspiration

I inspired him for a while,
But just as roses lose their color,
I lost meaning to him.


Thank you so much for reading🙂

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!

Always,

E

Through The Eyes Of A Child

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Image rights belong to Elise Leavell/Gaines
Consent given by parents as mandated by California law.
Socapa Photography – Los Angeles, California 2008

Through The Eyes Of A Child

I dragged the unique antic dining room chairs my mother had collected over time into a perfect straight line to form my play airplane in the living room. I was around eight years old at the time with the wisdom of a thirty-year-old. I gathered my beautifully crafted baby doll, dressed in a flowery dress, and acted out the story of a single mother escaping her past with her daughter. I’ll always be okay on my own. I’m a survivor. I was raised by one.

I didn’t think to include a father figure nor did I want to. I was perfectly content with growing up to be just like my mother; a single parent with a little girl. That has always been my reality. That’s all I have ever known.

The bond between my mother and I grew very strong. She was my best friend. My mother was my light; my whole entire world. She was everything I wanted to be and more. I was her whole entire world. I was showered with her love. I was the luckiest little girl in the world.

She did her best to give me everything that I deserved and more. She was a superstar. She defeated all the odds. She won every battle. She was my hero. She accomplished the impossible. I was her purpose.

I grew up quickly, understood things I shouldn’t have, and felt very deeply. It was an awful combination. I was an only child and grew up surrounded by adults. I mastered communicating with adults, but I had no clue how to communicate with children my own age. I was the awkward one.

I was the awkward one, the little girl who said whatever was on her mind without fear of judgment, but was judged anyways. The little girl who laughed a little louder, cried a little more and loved a whole lot. I’ve never been normal, but now I’m okay with that. Normal is overrated.

I was lucky one little girl didn’t judge me for my differences and instead embraced them. She became my best friend and we did everything together. We played house for hours, built forts, had our own miniature green-house, went to dance class, played basketball, sang our hearts out to inappropriate songs (It Wasn’t Me), celebrated birthdays, supported one another, and grew together. What wonderful memories we made. 

We did have our differences. She was naturally book smart and I was a natural athlete. What came naturally to me was difficult for her and vice versa. I envied her intellect. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that she is now a teacher. I’m sure she is an amazing one. She sure taught me a lot growing up.

We eventually parted ways, but she will always be special to me and so will her family. Her mother was like my second mother. I recently saw her and I felt like the nervous little girl I used to be. It was comforting seeing her again. I truly looked up to her growing up. I was an impressionable little girl and I’m so glad that I had such wonderful influences to look up to.

I would also like to point out that my mother absolutely adored my best friend. She was more upset than I was when we parted ways. She always asked about you and wanted to make sure you were doing well. I think we both turned out pretty great. She would be so proud to see you now as the beautiful teacher you’ve always dreamed of becoming. You should be so proud of yourself.

Maybe one day we can go out for coffee and laugh about the grand adventures we had as children. I hope we do one day. She was a very important part of my childhood, which is why I had to include her in this post. She helped to shape me into the person I am today. She taught me what true friendship is all about. I haven’t had many great friends in my life, but she definitely has been one.

Anyways, I was the weird one. I never fit in, but that’s ALL my mother wanted for me. She was the social butterfly, but I wasn’t. I never cared about being popular or acting a certain way in order to fit in, so I never did. I always was the loner with a couple friends. I was content.

My mother hated it. She pressured me to go to parties, but I would get scared and leave. I just wasn’t that type of girl. I wasn’t the social butterfly she wanted me to be. I never seemed to be able to fit in. I’m not sure why, but people didn’t seem to like me. I lacked confidence in myself.

Some people thrive in large groups, but I do not. It’s overwhelming for me. I’ve always had just a few friends and I’ve been perfectly content with that. I would rather walk alone than walk beside people who are fake any day. I do not do well with fake people. I never will.

When I went off to college, I found myself. I learned that people may not listen to me when I speak, but when I write, they do. I found power in my words that I crafted into sentences, into pages, into stories.

I learned that the mean boys in high school who called me stupid and laughed at me were very wrong. They had mistaken my lack of confidence for stupidity. How funny it is now to think I probably made better grades in college than those who put me down and called me stupid. How ironic is that? I found my passion, my drive, my confidence.

Then I lost my first best friend, my hero, my protector; my beautiful mother. She had become a person I could hardly recognize, but that is a story for another day. It still was the most horrifying experience seeing my mother die. I will never be the same. I would have donated a part of my liver if it meant saving her life, but I couldn’t. She couldn’t be saved. It was beyond my control.

I couldn’t save her.

People look at me with pity in their eyes now, but I don’t want their pity. I don’t want your pity. Now, I’m just the girl who lost her mother at a young age. That’s all people see. They don’t see beyond the tragedy or understand that I speak of her in order to keep her memory alive. People just don’t understand. I guess I’ve never been understood. Maybe someday someone will.

The last message my mother left me was this:

“May you never forget
what you knew as a girl:
That the lighter your light is,
the brighter your world…
And wherever you’re going,
wherever you’ve been,
May you know that you’re loved…”

I dragged the unique antic dining room chairs my mother had collected over time into a perfect straight line to form my play airplane in the living room. I was around eight years old at the time with the wisdom of a thirty-year-old. I gathered my beautifully crafted baby doll, dressed in a flowery dress, and acted out the story of a single mother escaping her past with her daughter. I’ll always be okay on my own. I’m a survivor. I was raised by one.


Thank you so much for reading🙂
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!

Be True
Be You
Love

Always,

E

A Scorpio Princess Stuck In The Sky

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Image by Sara Eshak via We Heart It

“she is water.

powerful enough to drown you
soft enough to cleanse you
deep enough to save you.”

— Adrian Michael

A Scorpio Princess Stuck In The Sky

You can always find me near the heart of the Milky Way,
Bright as can be, in the shape of a scorpion, by right of my birthday.
Just a creature with a burning sting up in the sky,
Shining brightly for all who passes by.

Ruled by the planet Pluto, lord of the underworld, as a powerful water sign,
By virtue of my depth, passion, and intensity that are all intertwined.
While I am full of love and care deeply,
If you betray me, the pain of my poisonous sting will take over you completely.

Much like the Scorpion can lose its tail and grow a new one,
I have the power to regenerate myself.
So do not be frightened if I come undone,
I will put myself back together again and never lose my sense of self.

I am a warrior and I rarely lose,
I just keep on going because that is what I do.
I have so many dreams that I must pursue,
So do not get in my way or I will sting you.

Keep in mind that just like a Scorpion, I would rather kill myself than be killed,
For I am in complete control of my own destiny.
I do not need anyone in order to be fulfilled,
So leave your hatred and bitterness at the door and find yourself some empathy.

I am a kind and sensitive soul, so please be mindful of the way you treat me,
For I feel everything deeply and with great intensity.
I may be resilient, but my scars way me down from being free,
So be gentle with me, for I am rare and live my life authentically.

If you are brave enough to love me, love me with all your heart,
For I will show you how love should be if you let me.
I may be a double-edged sword, but I am a beautiful work of art,
And just like art, my complexity and uniqueness creates my beauty.

So if you dare, you can always find me near the heart of the Milky Way,
Bright as can be, in the shape of a scorpion, by right of my birthday.
Just a creature with a burning sting up in the sky,
Shining brightly for all who passes by.


Thank you so much for reading🙂
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!

Always,

E

“The Scorpio Princess”

A Story Never Told

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Image by E Cherry

A Story Never Told

My life holds no answers,
For those seeking any truth.
Just stories of my old soul,
Forced to relive it’s youth.

Your beauty comes from within,
That’s what they always say.
Don’t lose sight of who you are,
Live authentically each day.

I wonder which is better,
The sun or the rain?
For both serve a purpose,
For both cause pain.

I wonder which is better,
It’ll always depend on you.
Both sides paint a picture,
Both sides hold a clue.

The world is full of evil,
But full of good as well.
Perhaps the biggest lesson to be learned,
Is how to be your own unique shell.

I wonder what is better,
To have loved or to have not.
For the pain you feel once love is gone,
Makes you wish love is not what you sought.

I wonder what is missing,
What needs to come undone.
Do I paint the whole picture,
Or let the paint continue to run?

For time is short,
And I am old.
What makes a difference,
If my story is never told?


Thank you so much for reading! ❤
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated🙂

Always,

E

A Silhouette Of A Girl

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Image by Ash

A Silhouette Of A Girl

Sometimes late at night,
When the sky clears,
Reflected by the moonlight,
Her outline reappears.

She wears outfits made of stars,
And dances with the comets.
She has never known of wars,
Always optimistic and honest.

Only one can see her beauty, her outline in the sky,
The other half of her soul, the mirror of her light.
He watches from below, tracing her outline as she goes by,
Throws away his logic and reasoning, knowing one day they will reunite.

-Work in progress –

Do you think they’ll reunite?


Thank you so much for reading!  ❤
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated 🙂

Always,

E

Her Words

1-too_many_words_by_payana-devImage by Teodora Bilc

Her Words

Her words,
Just an echo in the wind.
Carried in his soul,
Buried deep within.

Her words,
A testament of her love.
Refused to read her verses,
Their love now just another sin.

Her words,
Collecting dust on the shelf.
Painted in the sky,
Forever dismissed.

Her words,
Now etched upon his skin.
Reminding him of her love,
The love that could have been magnificent.

Her words,
Just an echo in the wind.
Carried in his soul,
Buried deep within.

Her words
                                                                             Words never to be read by him again…


Thank you so much for reading 🙂
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!

Always,

E

Washing The Dust Off My Soul

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“Ascension” by Sam Wolfe Connelly. Giclee. Ed of 200

Washing The Dust Off My Soul

I’m shooting down my demons,
Purging the poisons from my life.

I don’t have much,
But I have enough.

Don’t pity me,
For I am strength.

Those who stand alone,
They survive.

I’ll survive.

You are never alone.

I  am here.

 

Thanks for reading you beautiful souls 🙂
Happy holidays!

Always,

E