I hope this post does not come off as creepy or give stalker vibes. I have not posted in a while, so I thought why not post this topic?
I want to start by saying that there are some very beautiful women on this site. No, let me correct that...all the women on this site are beautiful, and I do not mean that in the
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You currently appear offline to ame_rain21.
hislove2000: r u on
ame_rain21: :)
ame_rain21: r u ok?
hislove2000: ok desu! :)
hislove2000: So tired
ame_rain21: kids?
hislove2000: yes…all 3 of them
hislove2000: lol
ame_rain21: lol
hislove2000: so what about your lover?
ame_rain21: ??
hislove2000: the koku-jin from the other night
ame_rain21: he’s not my lover
ame_rain21: …not yet
hislove2000: waoh…u r confident!!!!!!
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the ocean fell from her eyes
blurry we looked to her
nothing more than images
nothing less than human
more human than she...
she thought herself less than
but more bad than good
more demon than angel
born of beast, not man...
stretched flesh like
ruddy branches
softness where unwanted
firmness where undervalued...
unfinished movies on her back
cartoons, portraits, fantasy
an unfinished draft on
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When was the last time I had a good night’s sleep? I go to bed early and toss all night in a king-sized bed like I’m struggling to keep balance and comfort on a narrow cot. Then, just when sleep is so close, I wake up with the early morning Misawa sun, too tired to hide beneath my sheets and sleep and much too frustrated
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After work, I had the pleasure of sitting through a typical faculty meeting: a drawn-out and pointless affront to collaboration with a lot of talking at rather than talking to. Every meeting is made up of bits of information, each bit being deemed more important than the previous bit. All of it could easily have been shared in a short, easily ignored email. One
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She saw him on Saturday, the day after the Friday of the anniversary of the day her fiancé left her to be with his wife and family back in the States. He was a beautiful man, a dark man with light eyes and a glowing smile.
She had become like one of those girls she had heard about and even joked about, who met the
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She had often wondered if he was happier with his mistress than he was with her. Now she realizes that it is both arrogant and naïve of her to wonder about such things because her questions expose her assumption that he did love her at some point in time. She thinks that there was a time when he thought she was pretty, that what her
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Today. I am in my classroom marveling at the height of the ceiling and the closeness of the floor. I cannot remember much about the weekend, but I am thankful I did not wake up in front of some random vending machine or in some stranger's living room, as the local drunks—local national and foreign GI—have been known to do.
I remember one of this
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She met and fell in love with him over a year ago, and then almost exactly a year ago, she lost him to the other woman, his wife, whom he had left behind during his deployment to Japan. They were separated because of his career, not estranged as she had been led to believe.
Jennifer Withers was his wife and the other woman; however, she
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On yet another yesterday, I sat on my sofa, suitcases with clothes scattered across the floor, a pile of too-small and too-old clothes behind me where I could easily add more.
The walls were almost bare, bright patches that the sun could not naturally dull created sceneless windows across the walls, the wall decorations missing because she had already packed them away. Hers was a
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Despite the large chandelier with four natural light bulbs, tongues of darkness lick at her, lustily attempting to devour the last traces of light squeezing between the cluttered dust particles on the bulbs’ surfaces. She sits on the hard, false-wood laminate, her back against the sandy wood footboard of her American-style bed. None of the bedrooms of her house have tatami mats or futons; in
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secrets
we think we hold them and keep them inside
but they hold us,
filling us with the dread of them,
the fear they will be discovered
but they are secrets
and they are hidden from us,
not from them, not the others
the others know
so it is us
the keepers of secrets
who are kept from the simple truth
the simple reality
that...
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