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About Literature / Professional Katira K. M.Female/United States Recent Activity
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Holding my breathe I can't help but be scared
Maybe I love him
It's May 5th 2015 and I love him, my darling
My darling knight in Packer armor
He hit me once.
On the back of the leg
He was drunk
and we were alone together
he hit me and I never told anyone
the next day he didn't remember what he had done
I got angry at him and wanted to tell him what he had done to me
but when I did, he got upset that i was upset
Asking what my problem was
What kind of shit I wanted to talk about
told me not to have an attitude
making me feel like i was the villain
I can't defend myself
I can't defend myself
When he gets drunk, comes home with his friends, and disturbs the neighbors.... it's a slap on the wrist
When I don't wash the dishes or sweep the floor-- it's a fucking shit storm
When I tell him to not do something anymore, like drink-- he never listens and treats me like a fucking kid
When he tells me what to do-- he's the fucking law
I hate him
I hate him
I wish he were dead! and gone from my life. forever
it's not fair
It's not fair
I work for over 40 hours every week and he doesn't do shit
All he does is drink every weekend, dance in clubs, play pool, gamble, go to the gym, and he's unemployed, lives with his parents
It must suck to be loved by him
He doesn't love anyone
He fears no one
I'm a slave in his world
A slave with low-esteem and no clue how to defend herself when the shit hits the fan, who has everything to lose
I'm trapped
until August 14th
when i finally move and finally get a new job
But for now-- I'm that girl
Taking his baggage
Taking his fists
Taking his failed high expectations
Taking his commands like a bitch
taking his complaints as he sits on the couch
taking his everything he doesn't want to be
Just leave me alone
It'll be my birthday in two days and I'm not sure if I'm excited or suspicious.
These are the memoirs of a sad soul.
This is a confession of a Top Hat.
More than once, I've met with disappointment before. In the past, my family doesn't seem... to care.
I can't go into full detail without sounding like a bitch, but... I always felt it was true.
They don't care.
I didn't even have a 15th birthday party.
You see... all my cousins and uncles and family friends have big beautiful birthday parties with cake and ice cream and love and ACTUALLY talking to you. They love to hug you. They love to be around family and friends that circle you, but don't interact with YOU. Ironic? Yes. Cruel and unusual? Certainly.
That's what real love is. Talking to you. Hugging you. Telling someone they matter.
What a big mistake I made to rely on them for happiness.
But my life... my life has to be like 'this'... it has to keep going up. During the time my 'fake' birthday was happening, I've often caught myself crying in bed because I wish so badly that my mom was here. I remember during my 18th birthday that she came to my school during 7th period with a BIG smile, a bouquet of flowers, and kisses to my head.
That's what I want.
It's all I ever wanted.
TO be loved.
To be remembered I was born in 1994.
My suspicion is that... everyone knows that I can be a greedy monster and they pay no homage or attention.
Now that I think of these absurd thoughts, a quick trip to Vegas is all I need to feel better. Maybe they'll notice I'll be gone. Maybe they'll notice that I can hurt, too. Just one night. One night of heavy drinking, dancing, and tears. Maybe meet a much older man and run off with him in his house he bought with blood money and cocaine.
I want something to comfort me.
Someone to help me.
Someone to make it go away.
Make it feel better.
If I am met with sadness once again... on my 21st birthday, that's exactly what I'll do. I need to go to Vegas. Alone. To help myself.
To drink.
To dance.
To meet a dangerous romantic stranger.
To self destruct.
When you're young, you might think you're in love when in fact-- your stupid. A lot of movies with depict some unforeseen amazing connection between the Normal Good Looking Guy and the Normal Good Looking Girl when in reality-- your ugly. Your ugly as shit. Inside and out. When it comes to relationships, it's suppose to be ugly. Don't let Hollywood confuse you. There is no scenario where the handsome stud of high school takes one look at you and says to himself, "Holy shit she's the most special person in the universe. I'm going to devote all my time, energy, and sense to her because I TOTALLY don't have a life." That's fucking bullshit. That's not reality.
When I first figured this out-- I realized that I was a girl on different journey towards love. I knew that deep down that no fucking six-pack abs, big armed, street jeans, supermodel boy would ever have the sense to realize what kind of woman that I would be-- so I went down a different way. On my journey-- I grew accustomed to looking at... much older men. Not the mid life crisis men. (Not that they were ruled out) But I began looking for mature men, the kind of men who wouldn't use me for sex. (Which is hard to find.) and noooo I wasn't looking for a sugar daddy.
I was looking for... something... challenging. Because I'm the kind of girl who believes firmly in forbidden love.
Naughty love.
Doomed love.
Off limits love.
And I wasn't the kind of girl who was crazed about sex, drugs, money, or social status. A lot of people think "Oh she has daddy problems." When that's not the case. For me, it was never that case.
For me.... it was the hunger.
The hunger for change.
The hunger to make a difference in my life.
The hunger to taste that forbidden apple.
The hunger to do something that's considered unorthodox or completely crazy.
Matter of fact, I've been starving for years. I wanted something to look forward to every day. It's that kind of strange love that I admired and almost searched for, but when the stakes are too high-- you have to back down and wait for another day. Which was hard. Because I'm not a very patient girl. Nor am I forgiving. Or subject to a prisoner to her own needs.
And when I finally got my wish-- I was happy.
I was so happy when I met someone on August 16th at 12:02 am in the morning. The midnight bell for lovers, true lovers, searching for something new.
Or for something to kill the lonely days.
Or something to live for the rest of their days. Until death do we part? A ring on my left hand? A bun in the oven? Who knows.
No one can predict the future.
But when I was with him-- a string formed and attached me to him, and he to I, tying tightly somewhere beneath my left ribs and if that string were to snap--
I would be in terrible anguish.
That's how much he means to me.
I know it.
Before, he and I had spoken about marriage and having a family and I wasn't too keen in bearing his children or being a mother so young in life when there's the world to see.
But these past couple of months, after so many texts, after so many laughs, so many tears, confessions, happiness, sadness, wishful thinking, dreaming, planning and everything in between that can be shared between a man and woman with loving hearts and a hope for the future-- I wouldn't mind being his wife after all. My mind began to slowly progress and download information that I've learned from me entire life and I realized-- YOLO
If you love him, do it
If you want kids, buckle down
If you want to grow old together, say I do
I remember when we would seduce each other like two thundering hearts yearning for one sweet touch. He and I were crazy for each other. We were sex-crazed. It was all about crazy, fabulous, steamy, erotic, rough, aggressive, endless, loud, amazing sex. He and I yearned for each other. we loved with a love that no one knew about. We threw each other down and had our way with each other. He kissed me and he would bite me, I loved it. I would slap him and punch him, and tell him I loved him. We scratched. We clawed. We howled and screamed. We made love in places where no one would hear us. I was in love with him.
But then.... he left.
He just disappeared for months and months
No text
no email
no letter
not even a flower sent from that billowing heart of romance he won me with.
Heartbroken, I sought somewhere else.
That's where I found another mate, but then I promised myself I wouldn't confess I loved him until AFTER Las Vegas.
I promised myself I wouldn't be hurt again and I would stay true and honest with my new mate, my new lover, my new forbidden romance
and many months later, my rough and secret lover has returned.
but after being hurt so badly and so chaotically, I didn't want to go back to him. I couldn't go back to him. He hurt me too much
No matter how much I did love him in the past, he can't make right for his mistakes. He wronged me. Hurt me.
I did seek terrible vengeance, but I knew Karma would be a bitch and come back to bite me for it.
This is a confession
This is from the heart of a harlot.
A girl who wanted too much but received too little
A girl who loved with a love she seemed to lose
Her past sins haunt her
but not a day goes by... where she regrets the adventures she's had.
Holding my breathe I can't help but be scared
Maybe I love him
It's May 5th 2015 and I love him, my darling
My darling knight in Packer armor


Katira K. M.
Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
I am a Wordsmith

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ShangriLaLove28 Featured By Owner Mar 24, 2015  Professional Writer
I wish I was far away
far away from here
this place
ShangriLaLove28 Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014  Professional Writer
Goodnight sweet Prince...
All hail the fucking King of fucking
ShangriLaLove28 Featured By Owner Sep 16, 2014  Professional Writer
mmmmm he is sooo good to me. He's so good to me. I really believe that this is the start of something special. And I mean ---really special
ShangriLaLove28 Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2014  Professional Writer
need money
help would be helpful
ShangriLaLove28 Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2014  Professional Writer
im breaking out of here mothercockers!!!!!!!!!!!!
ShangriLaLove28 Featured By Owner Mar 6, 2014  Professional Writer
LOL! Having fun watching VINES!!
ShangriLaLove28 Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2014  Professional Writer
ShangriLaLove28 Featured By Owner Feb 22, 2014  Professional Writer
mmmm I am SOO moving out soon. and I can't wait to control my own life. All I gotta do is get the money
ShangriLaLove28 Featured By Owner Feb 13, 2014  Professional Writer
Every man needs his space. He needs his privacy.
but more importantly, the time and space to do his work.
Even after his home was HIT by a hurricane.
So that's a damn good excuse. lol
ShangriLaLove28 Featured By Owner Feb 3, 2014  Professional Writer
mmmmmm i love you
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