Confessions From Within

I try not to get too personal with my blogs, but sometimes I do. Its a way of releasing something eating at my soul, knawing and clawing in my mind. However, yesterday I got a little too personal, and I deleted my whole post and decided to write in my journal I have near my bedside table. Even then I still had so much pressing.
After spending nearly 3 hours on the phone last night till the wee hours of the morning, so many thoughts ran rapid through my brain.
How can I tell him my fears? Why am I afraid of telling him my fears? We share relatively the same past, same hopes, dreams, wants and needs. Its like we are almost cloned. He likes to say Im the missing piece. He says I am a piece of him that has been missing so long. I honestly have to say I agree.
So why am I afraid to share my fears with him? Am I scared of his rejection? No. I doubt he will reject me. If no one truly understood me, I do believe he does, so why am i afraid?
So many times I have sat down and tried to message him all I was feeling, but the words just wouldnt come out right. I end up just babbling about nothing.
But always with due time I always end up confessing something to him. I might feel the need pressing to tell him something, yet i cant get it out, 2 or 3 days later it will flow from me like a river downstream.
And the funny thing about it all...i know deep down he has the same fears. I know this. So why am i afraid of telling him?
He knows so much of my past, my wrong doings, my broken and failed marriage. He knows the heartache, hurts and sorrows from my past. He knows the anger I sometimes cannot push down and make go away.
The moment I realized I was in love with him, he knew .He freaking knew. it was something I was trying to hide, but he knew. When I tried explaining some kind of feeling I had, what i felt like for so long, and i started to babble trying to get him to understand, he silenced me. He sent me an old blog he had written. The words, just as i had said. The feelings, the same as I.
So who is going to understand my fears like no other? He is, but I am afraid.

Never once did i think i could love again. Never once did i dream if i ever did it would be this way. We speak of forever and ever. What woman wouldnt want forever?
A number of women would kill for him, for the sweet nothings he says to me, the way he can read into my soul and bring things out of me hidden for years.

Beyond the spiders, beyond the snakes, beyond him knowing how big of a klutzy and clumsy person i am, there are things that go much deeper.

How do i express them to him? Does he already know? Our love, deep, pure, complicated, he can read into the very depths of my soul. Does he already know these fears, these fears im so afraid of.

Today I remain...........Afraid

Jesus loves the little children,
all the children of the world
red, yellow, black and white
they're so precious in his sight
Jesus loves the children of the world.




Matthew Chapter 19
But Jesus said, Suffer little children,
and forbid them not, to come unto me:
for of such is the kingdom of heaven.

I had to blog on this subject today. It has been brought up several times in the last 24 hours.
I was asked earlier today, would I ever adopt again. I would if financially stable, and a father to help support the child. Would I adopt locally and private again? No, I doubt i would. I would go overseas for a precious one.
Would I get a baby? a toddler? an adolescent? or a teenager? boy? girl? Those are questions I cannot answer. It would all depend.
I was asked last night by someone i love, if things worked out, would i love his kids. Thats a question I shouldnt even been asked, but an understanding one. I certainly can understand that subject coming up in the conversation. And of course my answer was yes.

All this led to a bigger question, a question I asked myself. If Jesus loved all the little children of the world, why is there so much poverty? Why are children starving, dying, and abused?
In the bible Jesus says for all the little children come to him. What if these kids are not old enough to call upon him? What if they have never been taught to call upon him?

If you do a yahoo image search of Jesus with children, you will get many different images of Jesus with children, blessing them, loving them, feeding them, holding them, kissing them, laying his hands on them, and the list goes on.
But in every photo you do not see a crying child, or a starving baby, or an abused child.
They are all smiles and happy.
I would love to think that the portraits painted of this, is because they have already come to him, and he has given them new life.

I want to believe Jesus can help, i want to believe there is a God, I want to believe that children will no longer have to suffer. I want to believe that there is life after death, and all kids that have suffered under an abusive hand, starved and neglected, dead and gone, are safe in Jesus' arms, living the life they deserved to begin with.

I want to believe the millions that are reported being poured into make a wish foundation and feed the starving children, and unicef and all go to feeding the hungry..but after millions and millions why are there so many still starving? why are they still living in the streets? why all the diseases?

Why does Jesus let this happen.

I know i shouldnt question this, but i do.

Could i ever love another womans child? Yes, I could. I didnt give birth to my own kids, but I love them as if i did. I will never know the joys of giving birth, but i do know the joys of motherhood. I will never know the joys of carrying a baby, but i do know the sweet rewards when your child looks at you and says i love you.
Yes, sometimes i wished i could had kids of my own, but i knew early in life, i would never be able to.
It is not about whether whose kids they are, how well behaved they are, how ugly or how cute they are, a child is a child. what is there not to love?

If i could save one child from poverty and disease, I would feel i have done something to make a difference in this world.
I cannot stand looking at images of tears running down a dirt caked face. I cannot stand seeing images of a child with nothing but skin covering thier bones. But these are images that are real. we do not live in a fairy tale world. while we have a roof over our head, and a warm bed to sleep in, breakfast in the morning..there are kids sleeping on the streets, cold, wet and starving.
My heart goes out to them, I do not know them, but I love them.
If i love them, why not help them? I have sent money to the charities before, I recieved a photo of little boy before of whom i sponsored, and then 6 months later, I never received again. where di d my money go? Was the child real?
Maybe I should stop farming, maybe I should pack my kids and myself and travel to another part of the world, and see what help i could offer. What would i do? If i did nothing but tell them i loved them i would hope it would make a difference. but truthfully i dont think it would.
If i carried one bag of rice, how many could i feed for the day?
i could not save them all, but Jesus can. why doesnt he?

children hold a special place in my heart, they are taken for granted daily. Stop, look at your child, you are not guaranteed tomorrow with them, make it the best everyday!!

I was in the grocery store a couple of years ago. There was a little boy in the buggy being pushed by his mother. He was crying and his nose was caked with dried green snot, while fresh ran down from his nose as he cried. His mother kept saying "shut up jamal, shut the hell up now before i beat you senseless"
He continued to cry "but i want pop tots, i want pop tots"
"you not getting any fucking poptarts you retard"
I really wanted to slap the lady but knew it wasnt my place. I saw her go the check out counter, with a case of Bush beer, a bag of chips and a package of hamburger meat.
I followed. The child still screaming. I looked at my then 13 year old and asked her to go get me a box of poptarts, i didnt care what kind, but get the good kind.
She did. I was behind the woman at the checkout, i did not have all my groceries, she paid for her hamburger meat and chips with food stamps and her beer with cash. This seemed to get under my skin even worse.
Behind her back, i held the box of pop tarts up for the boy to see, he reached out to them, and i handed them to him.
"he dont need that shit" she said.
And i said "and you dont need that shit" i said nodding to the beer.
The kid tore into the unpaid pop tarts and took one out.
"you need to mind your business you nosey ass bitch" she said looking me up and down.
"Sure, youre right i do, but i wanted him to have the poptarts especially after you slapped him upside the head just before you told him no and grabbed your beer"
"this aint my beer carrot top" she said.
"well those arent my pop tarts, they are his now"
I handed the cashier 3 dollars in hopes it would cover the poptarts, she shook her head "dont worry about it" she said.
The woman walked off pushing the buggy mumbling something then she grabbed a pop tart from the box and ate one herself as she walked out the door.
Maybe the kid didnt need the poptarts, no i dont buy mine everything they want, but i damn sure dont buy a case of beer and slap them upside the head and call them retards.

Its people like that, that i dont understand why God would allow them to have children, and then deny people like who have so much love to give.



NOTE: Disturbing images below



I WOULD GIVE HER WARM CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP. I WOULD BATHE HER WEAK DELICATE BODY, IN LUSCIOUS SWEET SMELLING SOAP. I WOULD WASH HER HAIR AND CONDITION WITH THE FINEST OF SHAMPOO AND CONDITIONER. I WOULD CLOTHE HER IN A DRESS MADE OF FINE SOFT RED FABRIC WITH WHITE FLOWERS.
I WOULD TIE A RED RIBBON IN HER FINELY COMBED HAIR.
I WOULD THEN SIT HER DOWN AT MY TABLE AND FEED HER A MEAL SHE WOULD NEVER FORGET. I WOULD KISS HER SWEET CHEEKS AND TELL HER SHE WILL NEVER STARVE AGAIN.
JESUS WHERE ARE YOU?




I WOULD GIVE THEM BOTH A BED TO CALL THEIR OWN, COMFORT THEY HAVE NEVER FELT. I WOULD GIVE THEM SOFT WARM COTTON BLANKETS TO WRAP IN. PAJAMAS WITH THE FLANNEL SOFTNESS AGAINST THEIR SKIN. A HEATED HOME TO CALL THEIR OWN. A PILLOW MADE OF FINE DOWN TO LAY THEIR PRECIOUS HEAD ON.
JESUS WHERE ARE YOU?









If I was adopting, this is the child id choose. I dont need to know her name, nor her background. her face says it all.
I would give her all she deserved. I would always kiss those precious tears away.
I cannot describe the pain in my heart as i look at this photo. you can feel her pain, and i would promise her no more pain.
Jesus, where are you?





They may not can go to Jesus, but I can, Jesus where are you?

Tonight i remain.....loving those i do not know

Friday, on this stage will sit an ebony polish grand piano. The lights will dim, except for the soft glow on the stage. Guests seated in their velvet covered chairs will come to a silence from their quiet whispers. The burgundy velvet curtain will open after a brief introduction. I will walk from behind the corner of the stage, my heels clicking on the hardwood floored stage. Behind my smile I will be a nervous wreck. I will sit in front of the ivory keys, and delicately place my fingers upon them.

My songs not yet chosen at this time.
My own original composition not yet finished, my time is drawing near. My nose becomes clogged today and later starts to drain. My coughing returned last night, and my throat has become sore. This will be the first time I have ever gotten sick prior to any of performances.
I wonder, is it my nerves? Surely not. My sister sent me an email today, tickets are sold out. This will be the first time in 5 years. This made me more nervous.

I took time off today to practice and compose, I guess I will do it again the rest of the week.

I will hide my fear and my anxiety as I always do. I will sit and I will drift away. The unknown faces in the auditorium will vanish, the lights glowing above me will no longer be. I will travel to some distant place. Where? I do not know until the time comes, but when i reach my destination I will play for only one. I will relinquish all feelings inside of me upon the keys.
The applauds will come at the end and I will be forced back into the present time, together the Symphony and I will play a joyous Christmas song to end the night, in a not so joyous time.

Tonight I remain........a procrastinating composer

Recently my mind has been flooding with thoughts again. I cannot seem to shake them. Ive tried, the harder i try the more my mind races. The thoughts come full speed often switching lanes.
I honestly hate when my mind races like this. I feel my thoughts are racing from 0 to 60 fueled by my own insecurities, my own anger, my own depression.

I want to scream but there is no one to scream to. The only person that may could understand would be the one who my thoughts center around.
I dream, Ive always been labeled a dreamer. Ive made quiet a few those dreams come true in my lifetime, but my daydreams now consist of loving one whom i cannot even touch. I question the love. Should one even do that? I do. I know what I feel, but I question it. I lay in bed after hours of talking and I question myself. Can this really be love? How can he read my thoughts as if he was looking me in the eyes staring down into the very core of my soul? How can he see what I cannot see in my own self? And how in the hell did he know the questions that roamed through my mind today..what if it is forever? where will forever be? Should i even be looking into the future? Take it one day at a time is what my sister would say. But even these thoughts she does not know.
I have never felt this way, even when i thought i loved the deepest and the most, I did not. This is a feeling like none other and im not sure how to handle it.
So I go with the flow. The flow is hard for me. Ive always been in control. In every thing i have done, in my relationships, my job, my family, I was in control. Or was I? maybe I never was. One thing is for sure now, I no longer have control. I tried controlling all my thoughts, hopes and dreams, and love and I lost control.
So I give him my hand and I let him lead the way, yes, he leads the way, because i cannot.

He does not know i watch him when his camera is on. He does not know i watch his every blink, the way he strokes his beard, the way he twists it and then lets it go.
He does not know I watch him fold his hands over his chest, move his head side to side. He does not know i watch the corners of his mouth turn up into the most angelic smile. I watch him walk to the fireplace and the way he bends over.

I place the tip of my finger nail against the screen and i trace his lips. I run my finger softly down his lips, his beard, his chest, as far as i can see.
I look at his hands, and I know mine fit perfectly in his. I lay my head on his chest, and I feel his hand run through my hair.
I kiss him so softly. our lips barely touching, just brushing eachothers, he takes control and pulls me closer and kisses me with a passion only two people in love can feel. These are my dreams, this is what i want in reality. I get so lost in my dreams, i feel its almost real, and when i realize its not reality, i hurt. I fucking hurt so bad when i realize im still all alone with out him.

I looked at my favorite picture of him the other night. I looked more deeply than i ever have, nothing changed, his eyes still remained the same, but I felt them burning in mine. I felt his love, I felt a connection. I felt his arms around me, holding me, whispering to me, kissing me. It was such a great comfort, and with that comfort i fell asleep.

The last few times we have talked something has been bothering him, and im scared, because i dont know what it is. so my mind races again, what have i done? is it over with? are we over before we even started?

I remain.........in love and confused

Sadly it is that time of the year again. Everyone walks around singing Jingle Bells, Silent Night, and Deck The Halls. A long ride from the country to town at night, you can see the multicolored lights decorated throughout lawns. Houses adorned with the beautiful lights, manager scenes in the front yards, white candles in windows, the lights are simply beautiful.
Gifts lay under trees decorated with glittery balls, sentimental ornaments, festive lights flashing, red bows, with a flashing star or a praying angel to top it off.
Except my house. I have been the biggest scrooge this year. Im not really sure why. I just dont have all that holiday cheer. my daughters decided we needed to go ahead and put the tree up, my dog attacked it at 3am, yea score one for the dog!
Since my kids have become teenagers and no longer believe in Santa Claus I have gotten where i like christmas less and less. I do not like the shopping, i do not like the crowds.
I simply hate the cheerful old ladies who look at you and say merry christmas to you and God bless you. Why? Why would you even want to say God Bless to me? Do I look like I need a blessing? I also hate the scrooges like me, who are looking for that one gift and you can see the look of disgust and anger across their face. You try and muster up a smile, maybe your smile could brighten them if only for a moment, but they give you an eat shit look in return. I think to myself Fuck You. Yes, I do not like Christmas. It has become way to commercialized.
Last year, I ordered a few things on line to put under the tree, and then i gave my daughters money. I figured it was best to let them decide what they really wanted. Let them learn the concept of money!
There was no greater feeling, setting up toys and stuffing stockings just a few years ago. Getting up early before the sun rose, and waiting by the tree to see the sparkle in my daughters eyes as they ran in the living room to see what santa brought. The laughs, the giggles, the gleam in thier eyes brought tears in mine own eyes.
NOW, Mama i want, I want, I want, Can i have? why cant i have?
Then theres all the programs i have play at. Sure i could have said no this year, but noooo not me i have to feel guilty at the thought of no.
I would love to just skip Christmas this year. Im really not liking the thought of it.
Im scared to close my eyes at night. Im scared im going to start hearing chains rattle and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future are going to take me away. Christmas past will only show how I loved Christmas as a child. Waking up, feeling all nervous to see what santa left, running to the living room, getting slammed against the wall by your brother so he could get there first. Seeing barbie dolls, and barbie clothes, a big smile on my face...the whoops and cheers of brothers with new bb guns. As morning passed and the kids gather outside with new bikes, bbguns and me with my barbie and barbie car, Kelly dressed in a beautiful new coat, and earphones on her ears rocking to Kiss or somebody. We are all happy for a moment. That is until my ass, and legs started stinging from bb's !! I hated a damn bb gun. I guess maybe thats why i hate guns so much now. I must be scarred internally from the bbs as a kid. I would run to mama screaming Steve shot me. Mama would always say "its not going to kill you". Kelly would always wipe my tears and say dont worry about it. Funny till this day, she still wipes my tears and says dont worry about it.
Christmas past would also show the one time i really really really wanted that one special gift. I wanted a stereo. I was 12 years old. It was all i asked for, nothing else. That morning i did not run to the living room, i walked, I had learned not to get so excited. Bobby had a real shot gun. the first thought in my head was to hide, much much more powerful than a bb gun and it would kill me! I looked over at Steve , he too was holding a brand new shotgun. Wow! Great! 2 shot guns, i wondered who would kill who first! i stood in the doorway of the living room. mama urging me to see my stuff santa brought. I remember shaking my head, I just wanted to see what everybody else had first for some reason. I wanted to sit down with my stereo and enjoy it alone...i looked over at Kelly who had a Carolina Gamecock tag for a car. I wondered what she would do with that, when she busted out screaming. i ran over to her, she was jumping madly looking out the window, bobby and steve ran to the window..outside sat a baby blue Volkswagon with a red bow on top. Kelly ran outside, I followed. I was all smiles for her and asked would she take me for a ride. Of Course she yelled. The two of us sat in the car a minute, Steve had his shotgun pointed at the window..."do it and i will fuck you up" kelly said to him. I think he knew she probably would and just walked off. "what did you get?" she asked me. I shrugged my shoulders "dont know, havent looked yet". Kelly walked back inside with me, I walked over to the corner of the living room to see my stereo. Instead I found a couple of pairs of blue jeans, a sweater that made me itch, new tennis shoes, and a sony walkman. I looked around the room there was no stereo. The sony walkman was my stereo. Mama walked over and asked did I like it. "NO, mama all i asked for was a stereo, thats it." Her brown eyes turned red "Haley, you are never satisfied, Kelly got a car, Bobby and Steve got shotguns, do you even realize how much it all costs me?" "No mama and i dont care" I took my stuff to my room Kelly and I shared and laid across my bed. A few minutes later Kelly walked in and said she was going to go drive her car did i want to ride. i remember looking at her and busted out crying. She told me to never let it show. "NEVER HALEY, EVER, LET IT SHOW, she feeds off of it" she said. All i wanted was a stereo. I rode with Kelly that Christmas Day to our Grandparents in Georgia. I ran inside and threw my arms around my grandmother. "merry christmas baby" she said kissing me. This is where i always wanted to be..in my nannie's arms. i ran to my grandfather, and sat in his lap. "what did you get me?" i asked. "why would i tell my favorite grand baby that secret for?"
After we ate, we all sat around and opened our gifts. Kelly got a gift certificate to a store, Bobby and Steve got shotgun shells and knives. Great now they can slash eachother!
Again i waited till i was the last one. I had one little box in my hand. I opened it up carefully, inside the box was my grandmothers cameo broach. Ok..so it held sentimental value, but still not something a 12 year old would want. atleast not me. nannie told me her mother gave it to her when she was 12, and she wanted me to have it. I still have it today! I looked at my grand daddy, i think he read my mind. He told me to lift the cotton. I did, and under it was a 100 bill.
"Thats for being my favorite" he whispered as i hugged him tightly. When everybody left to go home, I stayed the rest of the week with my grandparents. My grand daddy took me to town the following day, I bought my own damn stereo!!!

Christmas past would also show the day my grand daddy gave me the keys to his orange Volkswagon and told me it was mine. Kelly and I would race up and down the backroads that day, her in her blue one, me in my orange one.
Christmas past would also show the day the Steve got a horse, and while i was loving and petting the horse, he turned and bit my boob. I do not like horses now because of that.
Christmas past would also show how Lonnie was neglected and I would always make sure he got what he wanted, I knew the feeling.

If the ghost of Christmas present came, he would show me what a selfish bitch im being about christmas, I would probably wrap his little chain around his neck and pull it tight and stuff him in the stocking. He would probably show me what its like for other families that dont get a christmas because they cant afford it. With that, i always give and give even when i dont have it, just so i know the poor can celebrate as well.

If the ghost of Christmas future came...I cannot say. I would hope he would show me i could enjoy christmas once again.

Its not my childhood that prevents me from enjoying christmas, its the fact my children are growing, im alone, and I get lonely at christmas. a feeling i dont like admitting.
But this year, im going to try really hard, to be happy because im thankful i have my favorite brother here to celebrate with us.
I will be thankful and happy because God gave me the ability to give my kids the money they want for christmas.
I will try and be happy even if i feel empty inside.
What is Christmas? How did santa claus even come about? Arent we suppose to celebrate the birth of Christ?
Maybe I should have been a Jehova's Witness.

Today I remain.......a scrooge!

A writer expresses their emotions through a pen and paper or keyboard and screen. An artist, through paint, pastels, pencils the images flow on canvas or sketchpad of the emotions that engulf them. A muscian expresses these feelings through their music. A pianist expresses through the ivory keys.
This morning, I let everything that was flaming inside of me be released, extinguished through my fingers on to the ivory that laid beneath my finger tips. Anger from harsh words spoken between two sisters, anger from the annoyance of my job, anger from my children, my brother, my employees. Today was not a good morning, I needed to get away. I ran home, through the woods, fighting the branches against my long sleeves. The nature went unnoticed, i was being consumed with too much anger. I fought the tears that burned my eyes, i would not release with such a weakness.
Inside she sat, calling me to her, she would feel my anger, she would take it away. The divine ebony of her beauty glistened under the suns rays through the window. The ivory laid waiting.
I had no certain song to play. I laid my fingers on the keys, my mind spinning like a tornado on a spring day. Linkin Park prevailed, seems their songs are always the ones I play when im lost in thoughts. His lyrics seem to always describe the very entity of me of what ever i feel. Bleed It Out rang through the quiet, empty house followed by What Ive Done. I could feel all my anger easing, but still so much consumed me. Fall For You came out better than I could have every played, "I'm entranced by you, im enthralled by you". No, those are not lyrics, but words spoken to me that ring through my mind. When the day comes, hold my face in your hands,let me feel your touch, look me in the eyes and speak those words to me, for me to hear, to watch your lips move as you speak them, kiss my lips, feel the softness against yours.
Those thoughts in me, anger subsides, melodies change, even without you, you spirit lingers, i feel your presence, cause your presence still lingers here and it wont leave me alone, a verse by Evanescence. My Immortal played so many times over the years her awesome melodic voice, her energy, her love, is felt through every song, just like i feel as i play for you. you cant hear me, but i played for you.
You read into my mind, you knew my secret, i didnt want to share, you knew, and it scared me.
My guard down, you walked right through, and for this im angry again.
Breaking Benjamin, Breath..."You take the breath right out of me.
You left a hole where my heart should be."
I played this song 3 times, why? because i love to play this song, its my masterpiece, someone elses song, I change the melody a fraction, just to my own.
I can no longer think, i can no longer feel, im numb, linkin park again.
I need to make peace with my sister, i got too mad, i said some harsh words. She was only telling me the truth i suppose.
I push the bench under the piano, the legs squeek against hardwood floor. Once again, she took my thoughts, my dreams, my anger, my love and she made it melodic in her sublime keys.
I remain......a pianist

Today I have decided to move my blog to blogger. I have been blogging since blogging began and I have kept written journals since high school. Blogging and journal writing is a way for me to release all the wild thoughts that run through my mind. Sometimes it can be therapuetic, other times, i dont think it helps at all.
I have a tendency to keep things bottled up inside of me sometimes. Its not healthy some will say, but to me, its my way of hiding i suppose.
I can be a bit private sometimes, other times i express my opinions and my emotions.
I have found that being hurt through family, friends, a divorce and an exboyfriend who almost took me for everything i had, i lost pieces of me. i became a biter person for awhile, but expressing my thoughts through blogging and my journals, i learned to deal with all that was thrown my way.
We are never promised a perfect life, nor were we ever promised it would be easy.
Its what we make of it, and i challenge myself daily to make the best of what I have. i have found some of the pieces that i have lost along the way, im slowly putting them back together. With each piece ive molded back together, i have found meaning once again when i thought all of lifes meaning was completely lost.
Today I remain.....happy.
Haley