Vessel of Life

Despite knowing myself to be loving, I can only let myself be a woman who feels that flaws in my friends are somewhat terrible.

I am not sure why I feel this way.

Certainly my friends have no more flaws than have any other set of people.

I suppose that I am a mite testy with people.

Another comment I have is that I say that I am good because that’s the only way to feel like there’s love for me.

I don’t think that withdrawing love when someone is not acting according to your standards is either fair, humane or productive.

Hmm, perhaps there are certain contradictions in the above writing.

No one is friendly to me without me being a phony.

How can I not be a phony and thereby circumvent the viciousness, to me, of this limitation in my relationships with others?

I love life.

I am good as failure allows.

Failure and good?

Once again, good appears as a means of coercion or punishment of certain behavior.

Not to get off the topic.

The way in which I am dishonest with others is in being a pain to my own breasts (nurturing side?), to my own friendship with my poem. I call myself a poem. That’s how much I identify with poetry.

The poem in me may go toward a lie.

That lie is that I know myself.

Here is a time I can try to know myself better.

Babies are not people for a person who is removed from their own infantile emotions and needs, or who is in denial of them.

My infantile needs are:

Goddess, please let me have a girlfriend.

“Girls” are people who are better for me because they are life.

Babies can not find love if people are sexually “finding” them.

I am somewhat afraid of the Goddess.

She can make my life a way that is “fair” or “unfair.”

Fairness is when I am a target.

I am not good when the wars of pain are taking me to fear.

Pain is not fun.

I am saying that I create a woman. I need to let myself know that the Goddess is the way that I make happiness be a darkness.

I have been pushing down my destiny as stirred (fucked).

Grace makes men pry as lovers and makes them treat me like I’m a slut.

Grace here is the feeling of righteousness and deservedness that some people conceive of as “Grace.”

I can only let myself like my Goddess when I am free.


I feel like the Goddess says I (she) love(s) a woman (me).

A whore says keep me loving so there will be a life.

I am afraid of all the anger I carry.

That anger is making me say mad and dark words.

Please let that feeling be hell and let that hell go.

I know like the Goddess of a shot of beauty.

I am grateful for it.

Let’s be happy, I tell myself.

I am not plural.

Please let there be happiness.

Okay.

Babies people and lovers do have hope.

I need to be a woman. Let me see that the Goddess likes me.

Sincerely,

Julia Murray

(A whore)(A vessel of life)