Bonnie’s Beach 🏖

My Life. My Experiences. My Love. My Words.

Lovely Rafters…

Part III

So that is the tale
Of a love turned stale
A woman can only take so much abuse
A heart can beat again
Even though it’s been dead
And its murderer left quite the bruise
If he says he’s an asshole believe him
He won’t change no matter how much you cry
Don’t be a stupid witch
Become what he says when he’s pissed
Here’s to you
You delightfully salty dumb spiteful bitch!

-Bonnie

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. When creativity strikes I have to run with it before it fades. Even if I get yelled at for basically hanging out in the bathroom for over an hour with a writing bug! It’s fucking stupid to some people…

I am feeling there might be more to this story.

So you may want to keep an eye out…

May love inspire you through life.

And death…

2 Comments »

Lovely Rafters…

Part II

Now you may think that’s the end of this story
But honestly it wasn’t that gory
Figuratively her heart had stopped beating
It gave up though her mind kept on thinking
Of how many places
And how many faces
Were buried across this great land
Places to hide
No more being alive
Those cruel words buried deep in the sand
As time went on
Those thoughts became strong
What if and how and where
Could it be would it be
Is it even worth it
Ssh quiet here he comes
Stupid woman should run
Though this proved to be quite the struggle
If she ran she would lose
But what could she prove
As her mind full of thoughts started to bubble
No more sadness only red
Tears of heartbreak were dead
Replaced by anger and fury
A rage filled her body
But she still wouldn’t run
She was patient no need to hurry
He would bury himself
With no need for help
Could peace replace hate filled voices
So she smiled and laughed
Her heart free at last
Only he could be blamed for his choices…

-Bonnie

Part III…

Leave a comment »

Lovely Rafters…

Part I

(There’s no punctuation for a reason)

I’m going to tell you a story
It’s one that doesn’t end well
And though the closing has now been told
It should be quite obvious she didn’t die old.
This woman’s heart is no longer beating
No more tears, no more pain, no more being
Once overflowing with love and a hope of forever
Her heart turned cold, no more happy ever after
She had been beaten down with hate filled words
Which I’m sure to you sounds ridiculously absurd
Getting stabbed in the back
Always under attack she thought hmm
That rope looks quite nice from those rafters
She wasn’t allowed to speak
By doing so she’d only prove to be weak
When her mouth would open
Desperate cries were silently spoken
And every day left her heart all the more
broken
The wounds to her happiness kept seeping
No suture could remedy this bleeding
She tried being indifferent but cared all too much
She was far too soft for this cruel, hard touch
Spiteful things had been done
Is this how some people loved
She was always to blame
Every argument the same
It was her fault she should feel ashamed
She brought it onto herself
It was “never” someone else
Sometimes love isn’t worth the hell
She had dug her own grave
Shallow, but worked just the same
Covered in dirt
(That’s how graves work)
Her heart was no longer a slave
Those rafters I had mentioned
Were the release from her prison
She was now free to haunt the land
But she only caused grieving
No more smiling, no more singing
All because she loved a man.

-Bonnie

Leave a comment »

It’s Happening…

To start off I finally was able to get my hair done after a few weeks of watching my natural color grow out more and more. Let’s just say my natural, ashy light brown does not fit my skin tone or my personality. With the extra 2 1/2 inches came my first officially noticed gray hair. Then came a second one. Yikes! Not like I didn’t know they existed (thank you hair stylist and boyfriend), but as long as my hair remained highlighted, I could pretend they weren’t really there. A win for me!

But this is a milestone year. I will be turning forty in December. And though it’s going to be just another day, and just another year older, I don’t feel forty. I don’t feel old. I look it more and more, and I see the lines and loss of elasticity, but my personality and body don’t feel like they’ve hit that mark yet.

And yet, so it begins.

It’s happening!

What is happening you might ask? Oh, just the “back in my day” stories. It’s not like I haven’t noticed me stating how things used to be or that such and such place used to be open fields or whatever the case may be, but yesterday marked the first time I fully recognized just how blatant it had become. I could no longer ignore my comments of “way back when” were happening more often.

Let’s set the stage, shall we. My regular stylist, who is a few years older than me, was advised by her doctor to take it easy for a couple weeks due to health reasons. Salon let me know I could reschedule with her when she gets back or I could schedule with another stylist. I’m super picky about my hair (it’s my single beauty splurge), but remember those grays were showing, and I didn’t want to see them anymore. So I bit my lip, took the jump to get my long overdue hair into the shop for a tune up, and I went ahead and booked with a stylist I had never met. She was super sweet, a mother of two, and thirty this year. She did an excellent job, btw, but while you allow someone to play with your hair, there’s a lot of time sitting in a chair and coming up with conversation topics.

Mind you I am not super social. The older I get the more I avoid human contact and small talk. I am not a conversationalist unless I know you, and we have reached that level of comfort, although there are some people in the world that are very easy to talk to even when you don’t know their names and end up never running into them again. Imagine ships passing in the night. You know how the line goes. So while I am sitting in the chair with a mask (requirement to be in the salon) covering half my face and blanketed in basically a tarp, I was trying to find worthwhile subject matter we could discuss. It would be even more weird if I just sat there and didn’t say a damn thing. It would be extremely rude if I just whipped out the phone and either kept up with what I could for work or played sudoku nonstop.

The music playing over the speakers was an easy topic. It was horrible, country music neither of us had ever heard before. We couldn’t even figure out who was singing the songs. Not only that, but there was an awful cover of “Heaven Let Your Light Shine Down”, and we were both grateful for that one to end. So music. Music became a topic. Which, of course we had already discussed COVID-19 issues, I just rolled the music into how COVID will affect future concerts. We talked about concerts we had been to. She mentioned she had wished she’d gone to a George Straight concert last year when he was in town. I jump in with “I got to see him at the old Cowboys stadium in Irving for the George Straight Country Music Festival!” So here we go. Setting the stage for the backstory of days long past from my youth. Good Lord. I mention when that concert took place, ‘96 I believe. Holy crap! That was 24 years ago! Then another concert I went to back in ‘97 at the Texas Motor Speedway. It had just been built and basically held two large concerts before even having a race. The first was a country fest. No. I did not go to that one. I did however go to their Rock Fest ‘97!!! Let me tell you! Awesome concert!!!! Bush, No Doubt, Counting Crows, the Nixons, Collective Soul, and more. It was so kick ass!!!

So it may not seem like much to the average reader, but I have now noticed just how much those old stories kick in to create a connection with a younger crowd. The older party explaining how they are still relevant and how their experiences can correlate with the experiences yet to be had by the younger party. The younger party struggling to follow along since they don’t quite realize just how cool that story really is in the mind of the older party. No wonder the youth have a hard time listening to stories about the days of old. No wonder the majority of people I know don’t have a passion for studying history (yes, some of you are crazy for wanting to do that, imo). It’s right up there with telling someone they can’t do something. They’re going to do what they want to do, no matter how much you may try to explain what happened to you and how badly it turned out. It’s allowing them to touch the flame to not want to touch it again. Same with experiences. The older we get, the more we experience, and the more we want to share to keep those memories alive or relevant or teach or inspire. But that younger generation, they want to have their own experiences, and it’s hard to set time aside to hear about someone else’s when you just want to make your own.

With this new “happening“ I now want to hear those stories I didn’t quite appreciate when I was younger. The stories of how my mom had actually gone to a Beatles concert and even experienced Inna Gadda Da Vida. The stories of my dad taking out his metallic blue glitter dune buggy, the same one he would take me and the neighborhood girls out for sno-cones as a little kid on hot, Texas summer evenings. All of those things that get talked about over and over again, but they just went in one ear and right out the other, because they couldn’t be appreciated yet. Now I know.

Now I’m listening.

-Bonnie

And if I have any typos in this thing, I couldn’t care less. I’m typically picky about grammar, but I just don’t have time to fix all those written mistakes when I have so much more listening to do now. 😉

9 Comments »

Encouragement I sent in ‘16

Look, life sucks. It sucks a lot! But even when it’s cold and lonely and looking bleak, and you’re at the point of giving up, don’t forget that you can either stay in the dark or choose to come up into the light. You have the strength to decide whether to continue sinking to the depths where the pressure becomes too much on you, or you can swim as hard as you can up and up where you can finally break the surface for a breath of air. Life is going to continue shitting on you. People will continue to use you. The world will constantly try to break you down into nothing. But there is beauty and joy and peace everywhere. You just have to open your eyes and your heart and your soul to it, otherwise you won’t see it. I know you are strong. People like us are fighters. We struggle to be happy. We battle to make it day to day. I know you can do it. I have the utmost faith in you and your abilities.

I had saved this in my notes from a few years back. Hard to believe it had been kept hidden away for so long. Sometimes these little words of encouragement are worth reading again.

-Bonnie

1 Comment »

Something Old. A Little Hope…

I am thousands of feet in the air, and all I think about is you.

Hopefully one day sharing my life fully with you.

Hopefully one day you sharing your life fully with me.

And I hope.

And I hope you are wanting to do that.

I hope you are ready, and I hope you are wanting.

I am happy and yet sad. My heart wants to run to you knowing full well it could be suicide.

It could be another past come to claim my future.

It could be destroyed, and yet, it still hopes.

With every ounce of its being.It knows full well it can be crushed.

It can be cracked. It can be forever broken.

But there is always hope.

Like a beam of light that pierces through the vast darkness of pain, stabbing through the black like a dagger.

It itself has hope.

To survive.

To live life fully and completely and without hesitance.

To know love regardless of heartache.

To love completely without reserve.

To give all and want nothing in return.

Hope has its needs, mind you.

But it does not want. It needs hope in return.

It needs love. It needs warmth.

It needs the good.

It needs the bad.

For without the occasional bouts of pain and sadness, can there truly be hope.

Just don’t allow the dark to take over.

Always be aware of the light.

Always choose to love.

Where there is love, there is hope.

There is always.

There is you.

There is me.

There is us.

Leave a comment »

To Dream and Fade Away…

With all of the weirdness going on the world, it’s difficult finding something good to write about. There’s the projects around the house that finally get started on and sometimes finished. Then there are new ones that may or may not reach a starting point. There’s checking on friends and family and neighbors. Check in. Check in. Check in. Do your part in making sure those you know haven’t lost their sanity. set up those family zoom calls. Talk to people you haven’t seen in years. Do it. Show humanity at its simplistic version of itself.

Talk about the past. Talk about the present. Talk about the future. Discuss changes. Cause and effect. The fun topics. How’s life. How’s work. How’s school. How’s it going without a job. How’s it going being alone. So alone. No one there to even check in with.

Share food. Share toilet paper. Share stories. Share a beer. Share a space six feet away. Share carefully. Cautiously. Anxiously. But share nonetheless.

It’s true. We’re all in this bs together. We are all sharing the uncertainties and the fear. We should all be sharing love.

But that’s as simple as it gets. Share love. Share hope. Share strength.

Dream of something better. Being better. Doing better. Don’t fade into the darkness alone. You can find a friend or family member. Find them. Bring them to the light. Bring yourself into the light. Keep them safe. Keep saving everyone. We’re all going to need one another.

And done.

Today is another day. Smile. Love.

Leave a comment »

Irritants…

I’m not even sure what to write about tonight. Pretty much anything I do just irritates people. I feel like I fuck up more often than not. Even on the things I know how to do, I feel stupid.

My past post seemed to give a couple people a guilty conscious to where they are now avoiding me like the plague. breaking the silence with a meme does not constitute communicating. but whatever. What do I expect when I have no friends to spend time with or the rare ones I do have are busy with their own lives and priorities.

I’m tired and sad and lonely. All I want to do is sleep but instead I am awake and writing out some randomness.

Oh well. Guess I’ll get some sleep. At least I can catch some zzzzzzz with a clear mind. It is what it is.

Goodnight.

6 Comments »

Tell Me Lies…

Honestly I’d rather you not, but we all do it. Don’t lie. You know you do. We all lie at some point.

I bring this up, because a lie is bothering me this evening. Not one I told, but one that was told to me. The problem with lies is that when you’ve done your fair share of lying in the past, you become quite good at it. So good in fact that you know when you’re being lied to even when it’s something small. It is easier to believe these false words than so as not to fully accept them. So this lie, that shouldn’t really matter to me at all is pestering my mind like the single mosquito in the room when you’re trying to fall asleep. It wasn’t recent, and yet it pops up from time to time as if it happened yesterday.

So with my bringing up lies and lying and liars in general, it’s funny how people are offended or angry when their lies are called out. No one likes to be called out on their bullshit. For example, the older I have gotten the more I enjoy not going out. Oh! I miss the energy of friends and the memories of social gatherings, but as I get more crotchety and lazy, it doesn’t always feel like it’s worth it. It is. It’s worth every damn bit of stress or anxiety or primping, but it’s So. Much. Easier. To just stay home. So what do we do when this happens? How many of us say that we are currently enjoying our hermitting stage and just don’t feel like dealing with the hassle of going out? I have. It’s rare. But mostly it’s an excuse, or I don’t feel well, my partner isn’t feeling well, or I have an early morning, etc, etc, etc. The lying comes with ease, because it is so so so easy. It’s easier to explain we don’t feel well rather than go into why we would rather have a stay in and watch a movie or why our current mental strength is not up to the task of being around others.

We lie. We lie to make others feel better. At least we liars believe that our lie is saving someone some grief, but is it? Let me ask you something, when you lie like this, to get out of something, does it make you feel better? Or do you feel guilty after it’s come out of your face? You know you may have just lied to your best friend, and deep down you know they know. So does it ever feel worth it to ourselves? Are we really saving anyone from grief when they 99.9% of the time know you’re making shit up? Not really. We make ourselves feel like shit for lying about something we shouldn’t have to lie about to begin with, and yet we continue the tradition.

Think of all the times you have lied to save someone’s feelings. The lies of encouragement when you don’t have the heart to be real, because it will spare a person pain. So many lies. I love your outfit when you wouldn’t be caught dead in it. Or I love your makeup even though someone has obviously spent too much time and money to look like a cheap whore. Even the silent lie to save not just their embarrassment but also our own. How many times have you let that person smile at you without saying there’s something in their teeth and then watch them smile away at others who do the same thing? Maybe not the same thing as lying, but it’s far from pointing out some honesty.

How many lies do we tell ourselves on a daily basis? How many do we believe? Do we eventually tell these personal lies so often that we believe them? Do our lies control our feelings toward ourselves? Sometimes we even lie to ourselves, repeating over and over and over again that we are happy. We look good. We feel good. Mantras to get as motivated in the morning can begin as a lie and then slowly progress towards the truth. Funny how that works. Day in. Day out. Every day. I feel good. I feel happy. Lying until it’s true. Sort of like the whole fake it til you make it. The way we dress. The way we speak. The way we act. We are all just a bunch of liars. Always trying to show others we think they want to see. Putting on our costumes and masks to hide the real us. It’s easy to pick out the ones in the crowd who don’t care anymore, who aren’t out to be something they’re not. The ones who choose their lies more carefully and use only when needed.

The one person I lie to the most is myself. Deep down I don’t like me. I don’t like being lazy. I don’t like feeling unattractive. I don’t like who I am anymore. Only the lies I tell myself get me through the day anymore. They’re the only things that boost my confidence levels enough to get things done. I lie and say I like me. I lie and say I look good in this outfit. I lie and say my hair looks good. But it’s all lies!!!!!!!!!

But do I want to hear the truth? We know how much the truth hurts. Do we all want to know the truth about everything.? Or is it better to accept the lies and believe them to be true? As easy as it is to lie, maybe it’s even easier to just accept it and move along. so that lie that continues to haunt me, I might as well accept it as a lie someone told me to keep from hurting my feelings. It was a lie made to make someone else feel better about themselves. And that’s fine. But it’s still a long way away from the honestly I was craving at the time.

So be honest. Your loved ones deserve it. Even when it hurts. Even when it makes them feel guilty. Demand the truth from them in return. Now go drink some expensive tea and relax. Repeat some mantras until you believe them. Then go out to the world and show them the real you. There no resin the hide yourself under a blanket of lies.

Enough rambling on and on. Have a good evening. Would love to hear some comments on how this post makes you feel.

-Bonnie

3 Comments »

Hey stranger…

Been a while.

In fact, it’s been too long since I last took the thought of writing and then actually started typing. It’s too easy to give up after a few sentences these days. Thoughts become jumbled messes. The mind wanders. Feelings drift past. The words get lost. The distractions take over.

The past year has been quite the adventure! One that has flown by far too quickly. My best girlfriend reminded me today that this time last year we were getting ready for a trip to Aspen. It feels like a lifetime ago. Things have changed so much since then, and the people I knew then aren’t really in my life anymore. Friends of convenience is what they became, and it’s a lonely feeling. I no longer do so many of the things I did just a year ago. But, priorities have changed.

Even as I lay in my bed writing this out, I have to force myself to keep at it. My mind feels like it needs to be everywhere at once, and even then it feels boring in a way. Those distractions I mentioned earlier run me ragged, and my mental strength is waning. I’ll be forty this year, and I already feel that I need to start prepping myself against Alzheimer’s and dementia. I’m honestly not even kidding around. This past year I have had what I like to call glitches. There are times I wonder how the hell I remember all that I do, but then there are the times it takes a while for my mind to process questions or recall things or even interpret what someone has said completely wrong. Like I misheard it, and then a couple seconds go by and my brain processes it correctly. It’s frustrating. I can’t find the right words to use at certain times. They’re there. I can see them. But I force myself to use my brain’s old thesaurus to figure out what the damn word should be. The deeper I get into this tonight, the more my brain just wants to quit and stop trying come up with things to say. It’s sad. Something I once loved to do had become quite the challenge.

So with that, I am going to leave you with that terrible jumbled mess but I will attempt writing more tomorrow. It’ll have a much better point. I promise. For now, I am going to drift off to sleep and dream of all the words that never even had a chance. Tomorrow will be better. I hope. 😉

Good night!

-Bonnie 💙

1 Comment »

%d bloggers like this: