An itch I can't scratch

This country has nothing more to offer me. It has run me dry, and is now causing me to begin fucking up the few relationships I have here that I treasure.
Being not homeless, but yet homeless, means I need to stay at friend's houses. The rules are different in every household, and lines that are in different places. It is completely possible to cross that line, or break a rule, without really realising. I just get a gut feeling when I'm doing something, saying hmm, maybe this won't be accepted. In my idiocy I ignore that feeling, calling myself paranoid.
I mean, it's not a massive deal. I understood, I was understood, no harm done now. Yet, I cannot help feeling selfish and humiliated and this nagging feeling won't let me be. Perhaps it is good that I am moving to Finland, I will live with family and I've known the rules for the last 20 years. God, this feeling is like an itch you can't scratch.

I am petrified that their opinion of me has changed. This must be ridiculous.

I am trying to scratch but I just can't reach it.

Aargh.

Second post

Part 1 of Backstabber Extracts

Part 1 has been posted.
Click here to read.

The Return of the Backstabber Extracts

I know that the only good thing I've ever written is the Backstabber Extracts, and so due to feelings of inadequacy I'm going to bring it back.

However, I will do it differently. I am going to open a new blog dedicated to the Backstabber Extracts, but I will release each part separately, and of course, edited into something better.

Thanks to all the fans, I hope you will stay tuned for the rest of the Backstabbers!

It isn't that open-minded here either.

I've been contemplating some things. First I need to blatantly make some things clear.
I am a "citizen of the world." I've lived in many many many countries. I've met many people, and many cultures, and many philosophies.
I am, in a non-traditional sense, a widow. I have loved and been blissfully, ignorantly, truly happy, and then been crushed down and felt like not living.

I am now living in a small sub-town right outside of Rotterdam, a place with a couple bars, shops, and plenty of people. I've noticed that even though the Dutch are considered open minded and free spirited, very few actually are. Over here, I get looked down on every single day because I speak English, I drink on week days and/or before 5 o clock, because I have fun and sing and dance, because I randomly help people who seem to not know what they're doing...
I don't mind it, in fact I could not care less. They're missing out.
But I'm also missing out. I'm missing out the people who join you when you have a drink. I miss the people who see you dance and dance too, or sing along when you sing. I miss "thank you" and "you're welcome."

I don't mind people staring at me because they finally see me dance or hug or kiss someone new. But I mind when they mind.

I only have this one life, and it may end tomorrow or the day after. I won't waste today thinking if the woman next to me is judging me as an immigrant because she heard me say "thank you" in English. Or if that girl is looking at me dirty because my dancing may be a bit out there.

So why do the rest of them have time to think about those things?
Why do they let it bother them?

Why do you?

To my generation of poets

It's so normal to hear a poem called beautiful. You read of such great trees, and of true love, and misery. You read of world hunger and wars ruining our lives. But your rhymes, what do they mean? It's all just aesthetics, some makeup to look nice, some guilt-driven faux-concern for the environment and the being.

We weren't born into this age, we're here to create it. We're not here to be told what to do, we're here to make a choice. We're not here to expand the boundaries, we're here to blow them up.

We're not here to think inside or outside the box, we're here to burn it down. We're here to take it outside the lines, to create shock waves so tremendous they'll be talked about decades from now.

We're falling into an age of no meaning. Let's dig down deep into the black ocean floor where they'll tell us it's too much, it's too profound.

It's not too deep. Take up a torch and shine it down below and you'll see the details, you'll see where we come from. You just have to get up and find that light that penetrates the darkness.

So take charge my fellow poets, writers, singers, painters, and forget the rules. Don't be confined by grammar, spelling, rules of colour or what's appropriate. We're past appropriate, we're past bad taste. We need to deliver our message by any means we can. Don't get stuck on topics that aren't yours just to get ahead. If that's the life then I'm not looking to live it. I won't write of popular themes that lead to empty oohs and aahs, my guilt would kill me before anything else would get the chance.

Write of love, of war, of hunger, of violence. Write of strawberries, of hats, of cigarettes, of dentist trips. But when you do, mean it.

Take the reigns and make your way through the woods, step past rock and stick and walk around the trees until you get to where you need to be. Until you can say what you need to say.

Then say it so it's respected.

When a man loves a woman, can a woman still love herself?

I have recently began watering my love life. Not vigorously, perhaps as much as you would water a cactus. I've had quite a bit of criticism for it though, well not straight out criticism. God forbid I get offended. My motives have been questioned though.
This guy I find cute, let's name him Dante, has questioned my motives.

Do I like him (a little) because I'm lonely? For a while I thought maybe that was it. However, I've had several advances while I've been feeling like this, and I did not take the bait. Women, you do not need a man just because you are lonely. If you're lonely, all you need is some wine, your girlfriends, or if you're alone, some tickling the skittle. I only want men when I like them.

Okay, so do I think I like him (a little) because I'm having a premature mid-life crisis and feel like I need to bang out my life (literally)? Maybe! I admit I am having a premature mid-life crisis, but that has to do more with drinking at 1pm, dancing where there's no business dancing, telling rude people off, being nice to people who deserve it, and eating what I want, when I want. Not sex. No. That's... not my comfort zone, even though I'm all for breaking out of the comfort zone. It's a complex situation.

Actually no, it's quite simple. I'm not ready for intimacy. I'm ready for jokes and what-not.

Returning to the point at hand, and to the title of this post, "when a man loves a woman, can a woman still love herself?"
At what point are you beginning to please a man to make yourself happier? Is it when you make an excuse for why you are drinking at 1pm, instead of just because you want to. Is it when you pretend you haven't seen a movie just so he can tell you about it?
What's the line?
When do you stop loving yourself, in order to make him like you more?

Carry Me

I'm going to move to South Africa. Latest 15th January 2014. That's the plan. I'm going for it, jumping into the void. I've been there before, but not in Cape Town, not by myself, and not studying something I like. My system needs a shock. Time is slipping on, and I'm still in the same place doing the same thing, or in fact doing nothing.

It's not working.

And even though now I'm recovered, to an extent, all this has left a big dark bruise that's like a brown spot of rot on an apple that goes through to the core. Every time I get pushed back in what I want to do, it's like someone is picking at that bruise. Ha, you can't ever be happy now, they say. But they don't know, I'm more than capable of being happy. You can't throw anything at me that will hurt. Just don't take what I still have left. And it's not much, but it's all I need for happiness.

So hopefully I will get accepted into the University of Cape Town. That's the only thing moving me forward now. I'm doing my best, I've never wanted something this much... well if I have, it hasn't been for a long time.

I thought I would die, but look at me here... living and shit.

But I could not have done it without certain people. Of course, my father, who has a great mind and an even greater heart. Someone who has been hurt over and over and screwed over for no reason, yet he still waits for the good that is surely to come. He still believes; he still has hope. He is my hero.
And then Mo, a beautiful person who will never leave anyone who is in need of help. I sometimes he is afraid of love and pain, but he cannot stand the idea of someone having a hard time if he can help them. He is the one who gave me a place to stay when everything fell apart. Gave me food and a bed and such.
Then there's Saskia. She is as close to a sister as I've ever had. She is the other part to Mo. She hasn't had it easy, and she won't always help someone... but she loves hard, and won't leave those she loves. I also owe shelter and food to her and her family.

That there, that is gold. 

BABY'S ON FIRE

I've been speaking to a friend, or I should say sister from another mister, today. I love her to bits. She really is like the sister I never had. Our personalities clash like the titans, but somehow our morals and ethics and all that fun stuff are equal. We know where we stand. She knows I like maths and art and fantasy and crap, and while she likes fashion and music and beauty, we are the same. The same pea from a different pod.

 Anyway, as I was saying... I was speaking with S (I'll name her S), and she had this thing, it was her thing, it was her thing that paralyzes her the same way that Josh does for me. Her thing was an abusive, mentally and physically, boyfriend. She has had a hard time accepting someone in her life, and despite the short time it has taken her to friend someone new, I don't judge her. I know how hard it has been for her and I really admire her. I love her for her ability to accept someone new after being through something so shit. I was there, I know it wasn't your typical "meh" attitude to your boyfriend or girlfriend. This was hard shit. Niet zo lekker.
 
I guess I'm avoiding the subject. 

I can't go through this whole business of dates, sex, not-sure-how-I/you-feel-about-you/me...stuff. I don't want to do that. I know how intimidating it is to hear from a girl straight off, no pretense whatsoever, "DUDE, I wanna fall in love, if you don't believe me... bugger off"

I hate to say this, but I'm goddamn lonely. I want to love, and I want to feel, kiss, and all this other stuff. But I know I can't skip steps 1, 2, 3 and 4 and go straight to the good stuff. But but but I hate the thoughts, you know when you're 16 and you're wondering if your crush likes you? I don't wanna do that. Fuck you. Do you like me? No? Cool. Yeah? Cool, let's bang. I'm joking, but that's pretty much how it goes with me. It will be bloody fucking hard to find someone who won't be intimidated by someone who wants to fall in love.

Man you know my past, what else did you expect?
Screw you all, I will lay the baggage out first time I meet you. If you feel like you can't or don't want to lift it then we are both wasting our time.

So that's my problem.

But I'm lonely. I want someone to love. Everyone is loving.

I'm glad my loss of love creating some relationships. I know it has. People told me it has. It makes me proud, but doesn't make me feel better.

SO--

So I met this guy. It was this past week, on Queen's Night/King's Day here in Holland. We'll call him Louis. That's not his real name, or even close, but it'll be safe to call him that since well... no one knows anyway. So Louis and I got a long... he sort of, got me. Or pretended to anyway, I don't know. But because I already fell in love, began a life, and lost it, I don't deal in bullshit, or one night things, or whatever...I decided to like him, and I did, he was nice and fun. There's nothing wrong with wanting nothing more.

But there is for me, in a way. I feel like a fool. And the truth that I knew all along is settling in with me even harder. It will be very, very hard for me to find someone who can understand what I want, and not be scared of it. I've done the whole dating thing, one night stand thing, one week thing, and two week thing, and I don't need to do it again. I don't want someone who wants 'something casual'. I don't want 'something casual'. I want something real, I want a connection. I realise now how hard it is for people when they hear that straight away.

It's scary.

It's even scarier for me.

To know I will most likely go through this dozens of times. Even one is eating at me.

I need someone who also lost their moon and stars.