Pandora Scooter: Blog

Strength, thy name is Clarity My muscles pull impotently To lift me out of this abyss But their might just twists The knots tighter around my heart Until I let go and plummet to the start - the Bottom of this well of unhappiness and hell Confusion, disillusion, frustration Push me into the fetal position I rock myself back and forth struggling for a solution The air is thick here and my breath is hard won I struggle for oxygen to feed my blood stream And I writhe in the tension of my low self-esteem... Low self-esteem... Low self-esteem? These words echo and are challenged by my soul's life theme. How low have I gone? How low can I go? How did I let this go for so long? These questions fill my head, a new problem presents I focus inward on my center and try to make sense Of how I fell into this well and ended up in this mess. I remember vaguely a map that had a path marked in red I remember following closely and then something turned my head I wandered off my path just a few steps Surely [...]

Fill me with your soulI know you're never make me feel wholeBut maybe just for a bit your could take controlAnd let me pull myself out of this mold made by meUnintentionallyIn reaction against those who were supposed to be there for meThey sit here, so quietly, so respectfullyListening to the frizzy haired man's wordsHis lilting, calm voiceThey come here by choiceStanding room onlyHere in the public libraryAnd my seats sit encoldenedBy the lack of asses Where are the massesAm I just a screw up?I'm tired.I'm just tired.He says, "You're strong."  She says, "You're stronger than you think you are."And I think"You're just saying that so that I don't lean on you any more."'Cause I'm too heavyToo needyToo fuckingmuchtodealwith.And, yeah, I'll probably snort my stardust tonightAnd sleep nice and tight and wake up all put together rightReady and able to be put in the line of sightBut the masses come to hear the frizzy man speakAnd I sit here outside - not part of the audience - but not wanting [...]

It’s been the same story my entire life, if someone says I can’t have something, by definition I decide I not only want it, I need it and deserve it.  I have to have it, and then – guess what? – I always end up NOT getting it (of course) and I end up feeling gypped.
Gypped of something that I was never going to get in the first place
Gypped of getting to wake up each day and see your caring face
Because I happened to decide that that barely visible tan line on your ring finger meant that ‘available’ meant that you could be there for me.  Yeah, I decided that way before I even reached the end of our first date.  I decided that without checking in with myself, it was just fate that I would fall for you…by definition…because you’re not available.  You’re present and you listen and you care and you are smart and funny and sexy and you make me feel even more beautiful than I already know I am… but you’re [...]

They flutter through her belly
with nauseating rapidity
spinning around her insides
with no regard for her to-do list.
She needs to save the world!
Don’t those damn butternerves tangling up her intestines realize that?
But oh how they swept through today
like bats flying out of the hell of her loneliness
and into the light of real laughter
shared between real people
between warm sheets.
"Shit, I’m fucked.”  she says to herself quietly,
A prayer before dinner
After the afternoon tryst and before the evening’s chores.
She wants more and more
But time will not allow for it.
So she is left alone with the insanity of the butterflies.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” she mutters.
Love sick.

 
Everything I want to say today is cliché
I want to talk about how women put on masks
In order to get through all the tasks
That society asks of them
So they can solve every problem
Without seeming like they have any themselves
That they shelve their personalities
Their specific needs
So they can feed the egos of those around them
While sitting behind the mask starving for attention.
But how can she get attention is she’s masked by a mask?
How can she be heard if she asks?
And sometimes the mask gets so stuck to her face
That she’s a mess if she tries to pry it off,
‘Cause her face falls all over the place
Parts of her skin peel off with the mask and leave her innards exposed
And yeah this hurts, but it also throws her into throes of terror
That someone might see her
Someone might see her
Someone might see her
Insides.
 
flipside, can’t hide, what she’s got inside
 
Inside she’s all butterflies and cobwebs She’s got sunlight [...]