<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d7247510412543276957\x26blogName\x3dEmbrace+the+sOjOurn\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://thesovereigngarden.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://thesovereigngarden.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-3060144441445346449', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>


Photobucket

Casino Spiele

My Tw|t Garden
Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Wow...



It's really been a while since I've written anything in here.



I'm beginning to wonder if I could ever get out of my own misery. It's not a matter of



It's self control.



Control over what my heart and mind should be thinking about.



Control over the downward spiral of self pity and degradation.



I don't feel any form of respect for myself. I feel... well... in simple terms... lousy.



Chris was right. I could change a zillion parts of my body and stay stick-skinny, but I'll never be satisfied unless I truly love who I am - something I cannot seem to be able to do.



I look into the mirror and see this ugly, fat potato staring back at me...



I hate bath time. I get to see my totally crumpled, naked body that I hate. A reminder of how it used to be the envy of many... What happened to my taut tummy, my firm, nicely sculpted butt...?



Then he comes along, and tells me how he loves his beautiful wife... how he digs my milk-laden breasts and flat butt...



I just wished this had happened eons before my self-esteem plumetted.



At least I can truly say that I'm blessed with a wonderful husband.



Now I have mixed feelings... I do not believe a single word he says. To me... he's just compensating me for all that had been done.



Deep down, I know for 90% that what I thought was totally untrue. He genuinely feels this way. Now. Its what matters, right> NOW.



When can I ever snap out of this freaking vicious cycle of self destruction?



I just hope he'd still be holding my hands despite me pushing him away at times. I just hope... that we'll still end up holding hands, walking in the park when we're 80... as planned years before when we first started.



******************************************************************************


*Stay*

As the door closed, I turned around
It was perfectly made, that golden crown


The crown of love that he'd carefully bound
The symbol of promise that I've found


Was it still meant to be, was it still mine to keep?
Could it still be my source of life, could it still run deep?


Would it crumple once more, and once again take the leap?
Would it break my soul or would it heal where the broken heart sleeps?


Have faith, HE tells me...
For the one who holds on, will surely see


That the crown is forever meant to be
And the hand that I hold will stay thee

**************************************************** Author: Queensovereign