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Her head rests on her left knee. Her left-knee pulled high, foot on… - Striving for a path with heart [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
mamanrecovering

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[Mar. 14th, 2006|10:52 pm]
mamanrecovering
Her head rests on her left knee. Her left-knee pulled high, foot on the floor, right ankle cross legged pose. Her arms over her head. She is defeated. Maybe lost in thought. Grieving. She is trapped. All of these or none?

A dance class space. Wall of mirrors. DancingBlack and pink leotards. Up and down arms, alternating. Girls...hair in buns...young...but not too young. Full of hope.

Back to the room with the girl. Light splashes on her hair, but cast shadows. Contrast from the ballet scene.

When we come back up on her

A woman at the computer stops her typing and rolls her neck from side to side. A man behind her now squeezes her shoulders tight. The peace offering of "not tonight dear." She juices each moment of the massage rather than what she used to do, "Is this IT??"

Relaxed, she allows her body to rock slowly back and forth at the computer, sensuality oozing from her pores. Eyes closed, her mind opens to the idea of more movement.

I ache to move my body like a ballerina. To stretch my arms up hight to know my limits.

I move at the keyboard and there is no taut stretch except in my mind...the only place I seem to stretch these days and even there I see it hardening. Arteries slowling clogging with plaque. And this is what I guess it feels like to recognize age. To recognize I have stagnated myself (only because I'm young and stupid!??)0. I am no longer the innocent and free child with nothing but freedom and promise.

I dont' mean to make my life sound bleak. It is not bleak. But I do feel a certain amount of trapped. A certain amount of stagnation.

I read about Philip Dick tonight and it stretched a part of my brain I've let atrophy.

My thoughts are disjointed and I don't care.

I have fantasized about an affair one too many times. No, not an affair..just..this man I am not even acquainted with. Such a cliche fantasy. Why is that. He is SOOO fucking hot! Really. mmmm. He's a yummy yummy man. I have ZERO interest in ANYTHING about him other than how well he can fuck my brains out.

It is quite obvious that I need to get laid. And by that I mean NOT BE THE ONE TO INITIATE.

I want strong hands to wrap around my waist, a hot breath on my neck and a husky whisper, "I need you. I want you."

Soft core porn baby...it's what I want!

Does it all really come down to not getting enough sex? BWWWAAAAHHAAAHAHAHAHAAA!

Big sigh.

Maybe. Maybe it is always about satiating my needs. Buddhism is so right on about learning to sit with what is.

What is.

This is what it is.
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