Pretty lyrical

Marriage and relationships these days have changed a great deal, so that more pervasive than ever before is this need for control, steady emotional distancing from the onset, and being the last one to mention things liable to be considered too “loving.”  I divorced my husband and was very distraught; he was my life partner.  I thought that if I did things far differently than any other unsuccessful couple I’ve known had done, that somehow our love and marriage would prevail.  It was not to be.  I gave as much of myself in submission as I could, and here I am alone, while he has happily moved on.  I thought for a long time that he “owned” me, in dominance, strength and wage-earning, but that had made me far less of a person.  I was timid, spoke in a very low, anxious and sometimes frightened tone, and that part of my personality has always been one relatively easy for me to despise and squash, however boyish it occasionally causes me to appear in the squashing process. I’m not tough.  I was punched so hard for walking as if I am, that I still have scar tissue in my upper lip where a fang poked thru.  I don’t want to hold anger toward big “Baby” for that, but instead think about how it is that I’m carrying myself and why.  In my dreams, I’m graceful in movement and angelic in tone of voice; but stress and loneliness seem to make me forget my dreams later on in the day.  I don’t want to ever be weak-willed, submissive or too soft spoken again; I want to find a middle ground that brings love back into my life with grand fanfare, naturally powerful, like rolling thunder, respectful and loyal, forgiving mistakes of the past and demonstrating such learning thru better practices in future opportunities.  I was fortunate to find love again, soul intertwining, glorious heart-throbbing love by a mesmerizing intellectual Corpsman, and even if that went out in furious flames, I have to concede that there’s a pretty sweet and awesome individual In a lady who could tie two such beings down for as long as I did.   

I dunno...I’m lonely, you know, and wish someone would comment if only to say, “hey; quit whining.”  Like most Americans, I loved and idolized Marilyn Monroe, and for me it’s become a very empathetic appreciation of the lady and her life.  She was incredibly, jaw-dropping, sometimes uncomfortably beautiful, like when she had that giddy smile, flipping her wild platinum curls back, knowing, yet disregarding the intensities of her beauty and her loneliness.  She could have had about any gentleman she wanted, and may have, with three high-profile husbands—pro ball player Joe DiMaggio, LA Detective Joseph Dougherty, playwright great Arthur Miller—and even catching our most handsome US President’s eye a time or two, but why did she not have a group of lady friends anxious to hang around her at any time as well?  I sure would have jumped at the chance to be her bestie, so It puzzles me that she had so few lady friends itching to call her bestie.  I’ve read that Marilyn was moody; who wouldn’t be under such uncommon pressures?  Yet still bubbly and anxious to please in a world of millions who have enough close friends in their circles already...correct me if I’m wrong but cute isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and having the ability to gain the rapt attention of most anyone around at anytime may actually be one of the most alienated lives one may lead..

It’s all in our heads tho...I mean our individual life experiences are ultimately how we respond to the same hardships millions endure.  Be resilient.  I met a man the other night who said I am a superhero.  I thought over his logical analysis and summation; He was right.  There are seven billion people in this wacky, spinning miracle of a beautiful creation; let’s go make some of them friendlier...

https://youtu.be/JtlerIpY1M4