Wasted Years

I ranted last week about how I thought relationships were supposed to be a cooperative effort. I still do.

But I don't understand what's so hard about putting forth that effort, especially if you claim to love someone. Earlier this week is was made clear to me that if that effort isn't there, it's unlikely that it ever will be. That's a hard truth for me to swallow. But I don't want to spend all of my time trying to make something work only to fail.

A close, dear friend of mine had been having problems in her marriage. But something changed and her and her husband started making it work. Together. And then her husband was murdered. I can't imagine the pain and anguish she's been going through. To be there, on the verge of having everything come together, and have it taken away in the blink of an eye. I don't know how it feels, but I'm aware of myself enough to know that I couldn't handle it. I don't want to have to constantly fight over stupid shit only to finally make peace and have it be too late to enjoy and love each other.

If I'm going to be in a relationship, it has to be one that's going to work. There can't be any major b.s. Because life is shorter than we think. It can be unexpectedly taken from us at any time and we would be wise to spend it on the people who really matter.

I don't want subservience, indecision, laziness, or materialness. I want equality.

I want to receive back what I feel I give.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you The Raping Of The English Language:

"He say he ain't got no"

I've been offered a chance to guest post over at the IFOC News...

At least I think that's what the comment means...

Wow. I have to ponder this... will I be able to produce posts worthy of the IFOC News?

I'll give myself an hour to think about it while I brush the dog...

Aldaric Belorin brought the plow horse to a halt and turned to survey the freshly turned soil behind him. Wiping sweat from his brow, he contemplated plowing another row, remembering his wife Kymber’s warnings about working in the midday sun. He looked towards the house where Kymber and their daughter, Melynda, were spreading a blanket beneath a massive oak for lunch. It had been nine years since he laid down his sword for the life of a farmer, and the Maker willing, it would be several more.

As he watched his family, a man on horseback rode up to the house and dismounted. Seeing the colors of the Matriarch’s army, Aldaric frowned. He had left the army behind and moved here, to the outskirts of Al’Darin, seeking a way to forget his former career, never expecting it to follow him. The rider walked across the field toward him and as he got closer, Aldaric recognized him and smiled.

“Diryden Vel’arac, I never thought I’d see you this far north!” he cried.

“Aldaric, old friend, it’s good to see you doing well,” Diryden replied, extending his hand.

The two men clasped arms and embraced, slapping each other heartily on the back. Aldaric stepped back to examine his former lieutenant and gave a low whistle at the sight of Diryden’s rank.

Anyone have anything to say about yesterday's not-so-happy story?

Did it suck?

Too morbid?

Too depressing?

What did you think?

And while I'm feeling in the mood, I think I'll start posting some of the stuff I've written for my class... it's all in the long-forgotten "members only" section of the site. I don't know that anyone goes in there, so I think I'll kill it and post the stories so people can avoid the hassle of logging into that area.

The young man's eyes glazed over as he lovingly caressed his most recent purchase, his new friend. He would show them. He would show them all. Since he was a child he had dealt with people making fun of him- of his weight, of his glasses, of the way he talked.

He grew up. No one else did. He lost the weight. He bought contacts. He assembled his thoughts before he spoke. In doing so, he traded the bullies of his youth for the demons of adulthood... and there were so many of them! From the so-called 'friends' who used him for money to the friends who got pissed at him for not going out to party with them to his ex-girlfriend who admitted to cheating on him.

So many demons.

It was almost with a sense of glee that he went out and bought his new friend. His new friend was going to help him exact revenge on all those who had demanded so much of him and given so little in return. His new friend was going to be his means to an end, his vessel of righteous vengeance, his holy retribution upon them all.

Revenge would soon be his. Very soon.

He stood up...