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4:54 p.m. - 2005-10-18
The Doll Rant
Hi Everybody ... back to my story.

I followed Larry like a dog, cherishing every worthless crumb he allowed me to glean. I clung to useless words that passed for poetry. I pretended not to notice the actual focus of long gazes as he admired the reflection he had carefully contrived, perfectly framed in my misguided eyes. I allowed him to slash me like a paper doll so as to fit into the ornate box in which he kept me. He had no use for love, but worship. He strove to be my pillar of cloud by day, red smoke by night. And when I veered to the right or to the left, perhaps to sniff a rose, his wrath was unrestrained. I was punished in numerous ways, obvious and covert. And this was the man I chose, placing my tender heart in his sinister shadow again and again. The man I repeatedly chose. And the mystery of how I came to trust the blatantly untrustworthy while suspecting the kindest of souls was yet to be unraveled. My sight grew dim as I beheld only the darkness of Larry. My bearings slipped away as I moored myself to an illusion. The tears that God kept in His very own bottle were strewn like so much trash on the altar of Larry's ego. My muscles weakened for lack of use. I lay like a bisque doll abandoned on the freeway that was Larry. No cry was heard by passersby. Convincing in my charade, I bid them carry on. I was fine. One day, Larry decided we should marry. Perhaps the reason for our serial breakups was the lack of real commitment. That very day, we bought a small diamond shaped like a heart. A momentum ensued that propelled us through the next few months. I found a frothy white princess dress with a train of fairy tale proportions. He wore a black Victorian waistcoat. It was a dream wedding. It was a dream. Five weeks later, I was banished from Larry's apartment with a list of changes I would need to make in order to return. I filed for legal separation. He upped the ante and checked the box marked "divorce". I was grateful for that. As always, I had kept my own apartment and found myself back on the floor, having sold my bed in preparation for the move to Anthony's larger place. Safe on the soft silver-blue carpet. Safe bathed in the light of the moon through familiar windows. By now an expert at reassembling the shattered fragments of my life, I took a few days off and then set my face like flint in the direction of home. I pieced together the surviving treasures of my capsized life. A mermaid languishing on a sliver of tawny geocite. The windchime made of polished balsa dolphins. The array of candles that scented the room in a potpourri of jasmine and vanilla. I turned back to God and He began the blessed work of healing me. Tenderly. Patiently. Gratefully, I let myself receive the succor of His love until the peace that passeth all understanding overtook me, there in the empty room full of grace.

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