It's this twin...

I'm in no lighthearted mood. That doesn't make me sad or angry either. Perhaps a little apprehensive. I need all the strength a big girl like me can muster. Trouble is, looks are so deceiving and a big girl like me can also feel so fragile. I am about to finally open a can of worms. It's not my can of worms, so that somehow makes me feel relieved, it's another's can of worms. So it could never go both ways, only one way. And that makes me wickedly happy. Because these worms aren't even good old happy worms, they're sad old bad worms which have been breeding and festering for four years. Four years is a lot of time. Try four years standing upside down with your head in the loo. Four years is also the time I'm supposed to have the bad eating at me. I don't think it has. Physically, it doesn't seem to be the case. As in metaphor, I don't think it seems to be the case either. I resist change with every inch of my body (some infinite number of inches). I thought I had now way with anyone least of all little anyones. Not true. I have come to love the little ones, I have no clue as to how and why, but I think I've done all right. Little people are a big part of my life now, please God, do not let me ever enter the incestuous, festering environment I lived in for so many years. I do not want to see ugly sagging breasts and ugly butts all over the place. I am fine now. I do not want to work in a sexual harem again. I want to live this clean life with the little people. Because I may have a lot to say about sex, but that's not my fault, I've lived the life for so long. And I don't miss it one bit. I am not going back. So please God, You are supposed to know what is going in my heart and mind, but just in case you mistake me for my flamboyant twin, I'm the other twin, I'm the one who was born first. Just as a reminder You see. I am the twin who is not going back. The other one is doing just fine. Help me tomorrow please. And everything will be just fine. Because I am Your daughter just as the other twin is Your son. And yet we're not the same, and You know it because You made it happen.

Love unconditional?

I have been sleeping for the greater part of the day. I need to catch up on my beauty sleep. No that's wrong, because if it were true then my beauty would depend on my head touching my lovely pillow. Do I need beauty sleep? Of course not, I am a royal after all. But catching up on it doesn't harm anybody, well except for my bed perhaps, but then my bed loves me unconditionally. My pillow too. Strange thing this, inanimate objects love us unconditionally, but that is perhaps because they don't know how to swear at us. My big bath also loves me, as does my sofa, again unconditionally. My keyboard pc really is the patient of them all. I regularly shower it with cigarette ash and ditch it once every two months, and poor things they don't even voice their opinion while I'm stuffing them in a garbage bag. My jewellery is another thing, it's probably swearing it's head off but since it's in a drawer I can't hear it. I guess it's dying to come out, but most days I really do not feel one inch bothered. Oh and my shoes, I think those swear in silence. I love my shoes but I abuse them terribly. If there were an Appogg for shoes I would be behind bars by now. Strange thing is, they all love me unconditionally, but then I love them too. I'm not sure it's unconditional love though.

Price Tags

It's so late. Facebook is quiet right now. I seem to be the only insomniac person with the energy to talk. Having nobody to talk to doesn't deter me. I'll talk to myself, have been doing it for ages. It is more successful than a zillion years on the couch. Although I still believe that everybody needs the couch sometimes, even if it is just to laze about on and drink hot chocolate. There are some pleasures in life which come without the price tag, only we don't see them as such sometimes. And in a material world, I am no material girl. Well, just sometimes, but then I'm human, although a royal kind of human. I think I could open a diamond-lover anonymous. Because just as heavy gamblers love the rush of adrenaline not knowing if they're going to win or lose everything and more, I feel the same. I guess I was a crow in a past life, which is nothing to brag about. I am just so turned on by all things shiny, I could pass out from the excitement. So diamond jewellery is another price which comes, this time, with a hefty price tag. I see my cat asleep and dreaming. My cats, balls of fur which didn't even have a price tag and which yet have given me so much love. There it goes, the l-word. Love should also never have a price tag. But if I believe that then will I be considered naive? Love as in sugar daddies, now that makes sense. Haven't seen one around for a long time. Maybe they've all got so old that they've died now. Which means, am I so old that I couldn't get a sugar daddy? At 35? Well plenty of sugar daddies are at least 60 so the opportunity is still there. What about my own price-tag? How much do I think I'm worth? I don't know, it depends on the customer. It also depends on my own self worth, which is something very difficult to tackle. I will let another put my price tag on. Better that way, because nobody gets hurt.