|shooting in victoria bc|
My StruggleThe struggle I face each dayMy Struggle by chillinchick15
Each time you walk by me without a word
Each time you smile at me without being sincere
Each time I long for more but it is not to be.
Am I just not your type or is it something else?
Is it one of those-lets just be friends things?
Do I turn you off in some way?
Why oh why can we not be more?
I try to accept my fate but each day is worse
Every word treasured
Every look remembered
And every moment wished upon
Maybe one day
Maybe the words will be spoken
But until then I wait in agony
For the look, the words and the emotion
To release me from my anguish-
I will wait.
The Songs of our BodiesGrandma Wedding fought against her rebellious pancreas for two years before she died. My dad and I had gone to visit her a year after she'd been diagnosed with cancer, and he had told me to be prepared to see how skeletal she was. I have a feeling he said it to himself, too. As we sat around the dinner table playing cards, I would look over and see her thin, grey hair falling across her skull in loose spindles; her fingers bulging at the knuckles; her skin clinging to her tendons and ligaments like they were the only things keeping her together, strung taut in skinny belay lines down her arms and neck. When I knocked on the table, signaling that everybody had one more turn before I laid down my cards, she looked at me in feigned shock and rearranged the cards in her hand with a dignified "Pffff!".
My dad's parents both grew up deaf. Grandma was born without any hearing and grandpa contracted spinal meningitis when he was 6 months old. Instead of killing him, the disease damaged his ves