My name is Casey

Like Most Revelations

It is the movement that incites the form,
discovered as a downward rapture--yes,
it is the movement that delights the form,
sustained by its own velocity.And yet

it is the movement that delays the form
while darkness slows and encumbers; in fact
it is the movement that betrays the form,
baffled in such toils of ease, until

it is the movement that deceives the form,
beguiling our attention--we supposed
it is the movement that achieves the form.
Were we mistaken? What does it matter if

it is the movement that negates the form?
Even though we give (give up) ourselves
to this mortal process of continuing,
it is the movement that creates the form.

Richard Howard


You turn to me with frozen lips
Your hands are icy cold
Your eyes burn bright against the frostbit sky
You never seemed more lovely than you do tonight
Pale on the horizon,
Like leaves frozen on the snow
Our two shadows merge inseperably
And time stands still as its pierced with cold

The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you

There's a warmth in my heart
That haunts me when you're gone
Mend me to your side,
Never let go
So time knows nothing
We'll never grow cold
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you
Twilight descends on our silhouette
How soon spring comes
How soon spring forgets
I wanna hold time, say it'll never begin
Old man winter, be our friend
Old man winter, be our friend
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
What's simple is true
I love you
I love you

designed by jo naz

Monday, December 13, 2004

 

In some subtle way, I feel the old patterns changing. Things about myself I used to love, things about myself that he used to love... I'm rearranging them. I believe that in some subconcious way I've been watching as I rendered myself a total hypocrite. I have been standing back and half-recognizing my necessity to be anything but what he wanted.

Why do I love my new hair? Because he loved my old hair and would literally yell at me any time I spoke of changing it. I love my hair because it defies him and expresses my freedom.

Why did I dress in a nice dress and jacket today rather than the miniskirt I picked out? Because he always told me to dress my age. Because he'd lecture me on how debate clothes were unattractive and how I should show off my body while I had it. I dress like a woman because I hate being treated like a child-- like an object.

Why do I love walking around with no makeup on and my hair curly? Because he told me that I had never looked more beautiful than when I went to prom with Brendan. He said that in full makeup with hair done I was so much more beautiful than when I walked around the house. He said he wished I'd dress up for him. I walk around as myself because I know he wouldn't be attracted to me.

Why do I show off my intelligence? Why do I write for pages and pages? Why have I started painting again? Why do I argue my points like they matter? Why do I stand up for myself?

I have become exactly who I was not-- who he would not let me even attempt to be.

I recognize that this is the opposite of what I should be doing. I should not let him change me. I should continue to act as I always have. I used to be so soft spoken, so obsessed with beauty, so in love with showing off my body. Realistically, he encouraged the things I tended to do already... and the rage that his scorn at my unhomogenized actiongs built up inside me has formed me like lava forms the outside of a volcano. It is not independent of that inside of it-- it is dependent. Who I am is very dependent on how I feel about myself, and I judge how I feel about myself by how others make me feel.

I believe that I am happiest as I am now. I love flaunting my logic instead of my body. I love that I finally have the nerve to change how I look, regardless of the results. I love that I indulge my curiousity and my childishness and that if I feel like dressing provocatively I can do it without contradicting the maturity I so value.

I know he hasn't changed me-- not really.

I know this because I bask in the intensity of Andrew's stares when I dress to get his attention. I know this because I trust him enough to sleep with him, literally. I know this because I do not shy away from his touch, his suggestions, his opinions, or his desire to integrate himself into my life.

The Englightenment thinkers believed that you could only learn by personal experience- things you had felt, touched, saw. This may not be entirely true, for I have certainly learned from something I didn't see, feel, or touch. However, I did not apply that learning generally. I did not let him break me like so many men have broken so many women.

My response, my life, is the isotope. I do not have what others have. I am strong enough to move past that which he did to me. I am the sort of person that can handle that without caving in upon myself. I can look at my thigh and know that the word was not my fault, was not my definition, was not anything relevant to who I am.

But more of my life is isotopic than that... I have loved in an unimaginable way. After 16 years of pain and confusion, dissecting myself to discover why I deserved this pain, after unimaginable experiences that should break the ability of any person to love, I have given apart of myself to an incredible person, have given myself entirely to him... and in that emptiness I have recieved back something of his.

I have the power to overcome. I am not certain of much in my life. In fact, I have precisely three certainties.

1. Everything will eventually die.
2. Until everything eventually dies, I will love Andrew.
3. I have the power to overcome anything that may interfere with that.

I am certain. I believe.

I love you |3:38 PM