puellarina's Diaryland Diary

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Old Georgia Pine

The puella mama that raised me had a cruella side to her. She was far more puella than cruella though. Occaisionally cruella came out, took charge when things were "getting out of hand". She identified with the puella, however. Puella is more fun. I am pretty much the same. Because mama was so puella, I have a strong Cruella. Cruella kicks ass and she is in control. I fall in love with the puer. Puella is in heaven, but cruella is just getting down to buisness. she sees the indecision and the tenderness and the naivetee. It's all fresh meat to her. The only kind of love she knows how to accept is the kind she forces others to give. She is afraid to be open to love in any form it comes. Love must be safe or it cannot be accepted. There are rules, there is dogma. Puella is the fateful opposite. she has no rules, she accepts without question every unicorn, wino and frog prince who stumbles into her arms. She doesn't do well with rules. She likes things a little foggy and ephemeral. She likes reflections and tricks of the light. Illusions are like food, she will dry up and dissapear without. I can't live in either of these skins. My work is to huff and puff and blow the houses down. I must hold the tension of the opposites. I must refuse puella's welcoming crystal caverns. I must pack up and walk away forever from the warm, though foul, womb of cruella. When I do, I will see myself in the distance, getting closer with every step. Clearer and clearer I will become, if only I can keep walking. It's dark, now, as I make my plans to bid cruella farewell. Every night I dream of a pale figure struggling toward me in the darkness. Don't give up! I scream until my voice is gone. Is it an echo, I hear? Is it the wind? I hope to meet her soon, under the open sky, and ask her myself if she was calling to me, all this time that I have been calling to her.

4:01 p.m. - 2004-12-25

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