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| Name | Danielle N. LaFleur |
| Age | 27 |
| Needs | Dog or Cat |
| Music | Jars of Clay |
| Reading | Nora Roberts |
| Pet Peeve | Error 154 |
| Likes | Chocolate |
| Dislikes | Squash |
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Contact Info ICQ:
17881604 |
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How dare you shame me. How dare you give me permission to do something then deny me your support after the deed is done. Do I play such games with you? Do I make my "yes" a no or my "no" a yes? No, I don't. I give even when I don't desire. I do so because you simply ask. I show my pain, my fear, my anger, my love because you request it of me. Where is that defender of truth? The one that bragged of his honor. Of his devotion. Of his faith. You are a Peter. Saying one thing in private and another in public. Denying what I have done even though it was blessed by you. Am I a project? Someone to "try" new things on? To push limits simply cause you can. "Give me this." "Give me that." But don't count on me when others persecute. I am to busy to say, "I support her" to those that degrade my name. To those that defile my character. Agreeing with slander by being silent. But you prefer to talk to me in private then defend me in public. Am I to say "don't talk to me at all?" Or take whatever little I can gather for time is ever so small. Hypocrites. All of you. "I stand behind you." Why? I am nothing, worthless, and pointless in this world. Why hide behind me? What am I? I am no one to stand behind. I am not a warrior. I am not a protector. I am not a fighter. Why do you cower behind what I am not? What am I to do? I want to understand. I want to support and give ease and pleasure to you. I want to love and give you joy. But how can I when I am not acknowledged as yours. Why do you continue to hurt me so? Hour after hour I present my pain. Day after day I am patted on the head and told to "pray." "Just be more spiritual." I am told. If I prayed better would you want to stick to your word more? Is that how it works? I am shattered but not broken enough. "I only love you "this" much because you are not "broken" enough for my tastes. " Are you so spiritual? Are so much greater then I? Tell me. For I am floundering in this loneliness of rejection. This must be how Jesus feels when we deny Him in public by our silence. |
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Pain Pain. I hate that I was born. Cursing.
Swearing. Moaning. Forgive me. Please. I beg. Help me. I eat dust.
I swallow bile. Blood. Vile. Drenching. Help me. Please. I hate
that I was born. |
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Waiting How much longer will you make me wait? When can I feel your hands tracing my sides. To taste your breath on my skin. Your flesh melding with mine. How much longer will you make me wait? |
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Fear I don't remember the first time of being left alone. I do remember sense of being alone, though. There's no fear that comes close to loneliness. I'm not talking about the willingness of being by your self. But the feeling of being left. Of everything that you count on to be secure and safe ripped from your world. You're left bleeding, crying, and alone. It's like a betrayal. Your sense of who and what you are gone. They left you. Willing. They even laugh when they turn their backs on you and walk off. Sometimes they run off. Other times they fly. You are left. You are alone. There is no one there to comfort you. No one is there to hold you. No one there to tell you things are going to be 'OK.' You are so scared. You get cold. It's bitterly cold. You can't stop trembling. You feel yourself shaking. Your teeth chatter. Nothing can ever make you warm again. You hold yourself as tightly as possible. You even curl up into a tight ball. Rocking back and forth. There is this incredible pain in your stomach. You want to get rid of it. You try, but nothing but dry hacking comes from your throat. You’re so scared. Your eyes get wide. Your breathing becomes short. Gasping at times to take a breath. You feel your heart stop and for a split second you think this is when you die. It starts again, only to return with a deep, gut wrenching, uncontrollable anguish. You want to scream! To release this uninhibited fear. To let those things that made you safe know you’re still alive. They must come back. But your lips are frozen shut. Nothing comes out. Nothing ever can come out of your mouth again. And fear is your only companion now. Fear hates you. It will torment you till you’re dying day. It will consume your days and haunt your nights. Fear lives off of you. Keeping you right above death. Never wanting you to die suddenly. But to feast off of you as long as possible. Fear knows you must be lonely. And loneliness is what makes you fear. I don't remember the first time of being alone. I remember being cold. I remember not being able to talk. I remember dying inside. I remember noise. I remember crying. I remember begging. I remember blood. I remember blackness. I remember strangers. I remember being alone. I was so scared. © |
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Lover my Friend Lover my Friend. Tormenting my nights. Tempting my winter's dream. Slandering my peace. Lover my friend. |
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Kiss A course hand slides up the smooth skin of an arm. A soft sigh is heard. The body sways closer to the hand. Warmth spreads. The hand skims the neck. Feeling the erratic pulse of the heartbeat. A finger tracing the cheekbone down to the lush bottom lip. Full. Red. Ripe. A quick nip. The sharp intake of breath. The slow exhale. Murmurs fill the tense air. A subtle body leans forward. The other arm moves around the delicate waist. Body touching body. Rough texture against silk. Coffee against cream. Nails dig into the shoulders. Fingers bruise the back. Hair gripped and head pulled back. Lust in eyes. Storm brewing in the heat. The slight indication of what is to come. A low moan escapes. A growl is heard. The mouth possesses. © |
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Past Journaling... |