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penelopie wilson

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translations

i have a thirst inside me that i cannot seem to quench. a longing, of sorts, that will not be satisfied unless it gets exactly what it wants. the off-brand will not do.

ok, i have a few longings like this. a yearning deep within for something that my very soul calls out to. beckons it to come closer and closer…until it is close enough for me to grab. and if it ever became that close, i would. i would grab it and run.

run…like the wind.

death calls to me, as i to it. death is a thirst that cannot be sustained with life. and the off-brand, depression existence is no substitute for it.

this yearning demands the real deal. i take comfort in knowing that the real deal is an absolute. death will find me eventually…or i’ll find it.

another insatiable thirst i have within? the same as you. for love. and no off-brand, surface love will do here, either. i want the deep-inside-my-core, life-or-death love. a good love. a kind love. a passionate and giving love.

in addition to receiving that love, i long to give that love to someone who appreciates it. most don’t. well, i can’t say “most.” after all, how many have i loved like that? just two.

i suppose one did. he never appreciated me, but he loved being loved like that. and there was plenty of passion. it was all very life-or-death love. sometimes quite literally. he’s the man that ruined all other men.

do you remember your best kiss? i do. it was from this man. probably ten years ago now. but all i have to do is close my eyes, inhale deeply and i can remember it as if it happened yesterday. the kind of kiss that produces fireworks, makes you weak in the knees and takes your very breath away.

absence makes the memory go soft. as in, i tend to remember more of the good and ignore a good deal of who he actually was. he made me cry, a lot. the kind of tears that are never able to be forgotten. the kind of tears that rivers are made from. he produced a sadness inside of me that only two other men have.

one of those men was my father. a larger-than-life man. in every sense of the term. he was…everything.

the first man i ever loved…and the first man to not love me in return.

i wear a bullet shell around my neck. it was his. a story that surrounds his death, nearly ten years ago. but a story i still cannot bring myself to tell.

the man that ruined all men for me…held me after my larger-than-life father passed away. he took a chain and drilled a hole in this shell for me. something that may not seem like much to most…but was one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.

the thing about faults is that they are often overshadowed by these unbelievably redeeming qualities people possess.

i have noticed that the men i tend to love have a few things in common. my father, the one, the soulmate, my husband…all four of them have commonalities. when they are on point, good, kind, loving…they are so wonderful that they make every bad thing they’ve ever done ok. almost even worth it. because when they want to be…they are pure gold.

i wear the bullet shell around my neck on the chain given to me by “the one.” it brings me comfort and memories. years later i have added a ring. a replica to “the one ring.” it’s there as a reminder of “the soulmate.” it’s also there as a reminder of my addictions. i suppose i don’t need a visual reminder for that…it’s hard to explain. and “the soulmate” is not a person i feel comfortable discussing yet, either.

but i wear them. i wear these three men around my neck, nestled on my chest, in between my breasts…on my heart…all day, every day. three of the four most important men in my life. the fourth, my husband, is worn around my ring finger. my wedding ring. and on my wrist…my watch. he owns me. he owns me just as much as the other three men own me.

it might sound awful to you, but it’s life. do we ever really get over past loves? i don’t know. for me? no. not the true past loves. the flings, the childish crushes…yes. however even a couple of those hold a special place in my heart. i have been in love with kevin costner for over 30 years now. lol. he has a special place inside me.

before you judge me too strongly, just keep in mind that you know not my entire story. you don’t even know a fraction.

and while the idealistic and young see only in black and white, the old and experienced have lived through the gray.

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