For When She Drew Her Last Breath, Giving Up Her Soul, Too Tired To Run Anymore, He Was There, Taking

It's 3am...

And I'm missing my husband. He's on a business trip, and I'm in need. I'm wanton, craving his smell, touch, his sweat, his fingers, his cock, his rough and stubbled chin teasing me.....down there.

Broken

I've been broken for a few years now, until I met him. He's kept me from shattering. I'll never be mended, but he is my glue.

A fancy meal

Dear Genevieve

I want you to know that you’re on my mind.  You are loved, cared about, worried about, and cried over.  I want you.  I need you.  I desire you.

You are not even a being that I can hold in my arms, and I ache for you.  I ache for you because I want to be your mother.  The ache in my heart for you may not be enough to make you real, and that breaks my heart.

You need to know that I’m fighting for you, my love.  I’m fighting so hard that I feel this tightness of urgency.  I want you to be real, but I realize that I can’t force you into being of this world.  Your father is scared, and I don’t know how to comfort him.  I don’t know how to protect him from his valid fears.

Know that you are wanted, but fears can push you back and make you evaluate what you want for your future.  I want you so damn much that I’m forgetting your father has feelings, and I need to respect them.  I want him to want you like I want you.

I’m praying to God that if you are to be real, then to please put the desire of you in his heart.  Or if you are not to be, then take the desire from mine.

You will always be wanted, you will always be loved, you will always be on my mind.

Mom

His eyes...

she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there far beyond her reach. Behind his eyes was freedom, far from the chains of his mind and the complex bondage he was held fast to. If only he could reach out. But he is left with a blank stare and various stimulation that were expressed with a flap of his arms, and twirling, his constant twirling around. She held fast though, returning each time to look into his eyes, because she knew, she knew there was freedom behind his eyes. A freedom that would break free for an instant, and he would focus and be free from the chains for but a moment, and stare back with recognition, with a single word on the tip of his tongue, but would never be uttered; "mom." His eyes, she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there, far beyond her reach.

Kiss

Lips so soft, so gentle and loving against my lips. So heavenly. Tongue against tongue wreastle for dominance. The kiss makes everything better. Knees quivering, palms sweating, heart pounding. An ache fills my body. I revel in the kiss, so tender. It takes my breath away. No lips, no tongue, no quest for dominance. My eyes open from sleep. Just a dream.

Husband and I were arguing, tears were shed, hugs were given, but I still cooked for him, because I love his stupid face.

I'm sorry...

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm sorry I never appreciated you while I was growing up.  I'm sorry that I didn't see the sacrifices that you made for me, as Asian immigrants.  I hated you when you would embarrass me in front of my friends or in public when you'd speak to me in Chinese. 

I hated that I was Chinese at one point in my life, and I'm so sorry for that, I'm deeply shamed by that now.  I was embarrassed by my heritage, and all I wanted was a normal life as a white American.  I wanted that so much that I prayed for it.  I hated my eyes, my skin color, and my general look of not looking Anglo Saxon American. 

I'm sorry that for that one year, I acted white, like I didn't understand Chinese, or refused to eat anything Asian.  I'm sorry I made you worry.  I'm sorry for myself, because for that one year, I could've learned so much. 

Growing up, I deeply resented you two to my bone.  You two worked so hard, accomplished so much, but it fell on blind eyes, and deaf ears.  You two were never home, and it was up to my brother to take care of me, which he used to resent me for as well.  I loved him so much, and he never really returned that love.  It must've felt like that for you too. 

I'm sorry that I don't trust you two, enough to share this with you.  That you won't really understand what I'm saying, or out right deny everything I'm sharing.  I'm sorry that you'll never know.

I'm sorry for everything that I've said that made you feel anything other than happiness, and I'm sorry for what I'll say to you in the future that make you feel anything other than happiness.  Such is the way of life, and not everybody is meant to die happy.

Seasons change, and friends move away, and life goes on from day to day, but I do know for a fact, that I love the both of you so much, so much that I'd rather die than see you both in a grave.  I want to thank you, and apologize for being so difficult at times, but I know, also for a fact, that your love is boundless, and beyond the farthest star.

Love

Wei Shing

I can't wait. Ugh. I think I know when my third one will be.

If a person has experienced just one episode of depression in their lifetime, there’s a 50% chance they will have a second. If that happens, they become 80% more likely to endure it a third time. Source