Monthly Archives: February 2012

800 Days blog by blake4d


Blake 4d 800 days

 

A MUST READ


kimberly on smashwords


kimberly on smashwords.


Book Two published on smashwords


Book Two published on smashwords.


He was my first love, I was his last


 

Think back. Come with me

Remember?

Remember?

Remember your first love?

Most of us were in high school at the time. Struggling and confused in our early to mid teens. Remember, it consumed our entire world, everything we did, and suddenly, for our first time, life made sense. Being completely overcome with wonderful feelings of love, somehow, let us focus, feel wanted, and for once, felt wonderful, because we had a purpose.

We were convinced to be together, and forever. No other option, not once, entertained our minds. We spent all of our possible time together. Cut class, lied to your parents, became interested in exploring and learning everything about one another.

With such eternal love and dreams, also brought, this fear and constant worry. I feared, my love, my soul mate, without warning, could leave my heart, by falling for an other. This was unacceptable. Viscous, our girlfriends did speak, to take no prisoners. Between the feelings of jealousy and insecurities we transformed into much more than, I think our other half, ever felt they signed up for.

None of us girls had a clue what the boys felt. So we felt compelled to decide their thoughts for them. We clearly, believed we had.

Girls bathrooms and locker rooms held critical discussions about these boys. Information that was shared, very private details. Should it leak out, harsh consequences would be punishment, in the form of rumors and gossip.

Why we did this, or threatened to, I’ll never know. I just feel we all thought we were grown up, and at 14, nothing made sense. Except for, love. Looking back, I think we believed no one would break our code of silence. How naive I was, given these very same girls, were messing about with each others boys. Unknowingly to the female, who was busy with her own new love.

But my poor guy, oh my gosh. So many questions, rather interrogations. This was me, ensuring he wouldn’t know my panic driven, ruthless, determined, comic book persona that was born, the first time I laid eyes on him. Can we say Psycho?! OK, teenager!

I truly believed, I was being the best girlfriend he could ask for. Now, in retrospect, I wonder how trapped or obligated he felt with our own, new love? Was it ever as big a deal to him, as to me? He seemed to really enjoy my company, regardless of the gossip girls. He was full of some truth serum, I never or am positive he had not been with another, during our time.

Here I was 14 years old, and had already quit school all together. This meaning the last grade I ever completed was grade 8. I still cannot believe my parents or the Board of Education accepted, even encouraged this situation. Regardless, I was always at my old school grounds, acting as if I was still there. I just had no other options, how to spend my time. Then the answer came to me. It was him. His name, was Darren.

Love then, is the love I understand today.

The greatest love of my life. Despite how naive I was,reflecting back, it just doesn’t matter. It was my fairy tale, and he was my prince. He being my incredible, Darren.

Quick Question

Are you still in contact with your first love?

  • 26% yes
  • 74% no

84 people have voted in this poll.

Then came the Decision!

I knew Darren had already been with a few girls. He was, after all, 16, and 2 years in your teens, is a lifetime of difference. I, still a virgin, [ignoring a previous assault a year prior], had no comprehension of what sex was, let alone something one would enjoy doing. Yet, I also, never before had feelings anything like I was continuing to develop, towards Darren. I also, over the past 6 months, felt I could trust him with anything.

We shared all the same family issues, alcoholic parents, neither of us knew where our fathers were, once they had taken off earlier, younger siblings, mothers just barely hanging on from a rough time with abuse. I found in Darren, validation. He was laid back, funny, supportive, always joking and encouraging me to write. He was beautiful, cared for other people and somehow, stayed in school.

These wonderful traits he had, caused me, to be even more insecure.

I will never know what it was, to this day, nor why, he fell in love with someone like me. Thinking back, I was so awkward and far from what I believed, a girl should be, for someone like Darren.

Suppose I still carry this trait, and ignore it. Fake that I do not feel this way, and exit if one does catch on.

Darren never rushed me, was gentle and kind, above all else, patient.

There began my entry into a love no one the rest of my life could replace.  My first.

And how funny it was that our excursions, became sacred, under the football field bleachers, growing ever so frequent.

Did you have sex for the first time with your first love?

  •  yes
  •  no, but i thought it was love at the time

See results without voting

Expiry date

First loves must come to an end at some point. Or, so I know now. Then I most certainly did not. More so, the way Darren and I ended. It was a Saturday, and my life was about to change forever.

We were heading for the bleachers, perfectly isolated on the weekends. Darren brought a blanket, and I laughed because it was bright red. We both saw the irony in that just maybe, this could draw attention. Well, we didn’t ditch it so, red would be this Saturdays bed. I didn’t know the degree of the irony in that.

The street at the back of the school was almost always dead, and I, like always, ran accross, fearless. Not a thought a car could hurt me. I looked back and Darren was not crossing, he said ‘ you’re nuts, hold on, I’ll cross at the corner, just don’t leave.’ I could not believe on a dead street he was going to cross at the corner. This was ridiculous.

‘Just hurry up and cross here, hurry up, hurry up, Darren there are no cars.’ He laughed, and started to cross when a brown station wagon, didn’t just hit him, but the front left tire ran over his head. There was a woman driving, she jumped out of her car and dragged Darren from beneath the wagon.

It is this visual I cannot to this day shake from my head. Once she grabbed hold of him, she dragged him from under his arms, his head had fallen to his chest and his blood was absolutely everywhere. I was still just standing there with my mouth open. Confused.

The woman dragged Darren to the sidewalk and put him on a square in the sidewalk , his feet dangling still on the road. She advised me not to leave him, he was badly hurt and she would run for help and be back. Her last words were repeating, ‘I’ll be right back’

I want to hold you high, and steel your pain

Angel of Mine

The Silence of Panic

 

I waited for an ambulance, a policeman, a fire truck, the woman in the station wagon. Even a car to drive by. I don’t know how long that was.

It was long enough for me to look and Darren, and the horror he now wore. So helpless, I dragged him onto my lap, held him the best I could.

Distinctively remember chanting, inside my head, You’ll be alright, You’ll be alright, You’ll be alright, You’ll be alright, You’ll be alright, You’ll be alright, You’ll be alright, You’ll be alright, You’ll be alright.

Nobody came, and that driver was gone. What probably was ten minutes, since the hit and run, might as well have been 10 hours to me. So torn between leaving Darren to find someone or staying by his side and help, both were my solutions.

I began CPR only having seen from the movies, clearly a bad choice, I saw instantly, Any pressure to his body forced large amounts to exit it.

Drenched in blood everywhere, I got up ready to run for help when a car slowed down and stopped. Panicked, he thought I was badly injured, from so much blood. He promised to come right back after he found a phone and call for help.

Would he? What if not? I decided to give him 5 minutes, then listen to no one, and run like fire, to find someone.

With such shock and panic, I only felt fear, Fear that Darren would die with so much time passing, and bleeding so badly.

I first heard the sirens, then the man, I came know as Rod, pulled up and ran to Darren.

There was no pulse, as the Fire Trucks, three, pulled up and so quickly began assessing Darren’s injuries, I did not know he was dead.

In fact, no one told me until his mother arrived at the hospital, as well, She never thought much of me. Instant facial expressions, showed intense anger as she studied me.

Her only sons blood was all she could see, great amounts, covering my clothes and all over me. It was if she convicted me, right there, responsible for his death. Or possibly I was reading her pain, and transferring it to my own guilt.

I tried seeing her by visiting the apartment a few times, always the same reaction. Slamming the door very violently. Screaming ‘Do not come here ever again’, and so I did not. She passed about 4 years after Darren. She stopped living once Darren died. I want to believe they are reunited and both free from pain, and finally, neither alone.

It was a doctor who pulled me aside, alone, and explain Darren had passed on impact, mostly from the wheel that ran over, and destroyed his head, crushing his brain. Apparently he had felt no pain and there was nothing anyone could have done to save him.

As 2 police entered and ended my talk with the doctor, I got so scared. Still believed telling them it was my fault, was the least I could do, and I did. Trying to convince me, this could have occurred a number of ways, I was not at blame. They wanted as much detail, while still fresh in my mind, regarding the woman and car that killed Darren.

It was officially, a hit and run, and since the victim (Darren) died. The driver also moved him, most surely knowing he was dead. An aggressive search and investigation, had already begun. They closed by advising me to seek PTS aid for support to learn coping tools, for a very difficult loss. This, they added, would get easier over time, but I could be effected, most likely, for a lifetime.

My mental stress since he was hit, was not just loss. I had killed him. This was my fault.

This song, has become an anthem to me, so close to my heart. Lyrics were expressing the very part of me.

I Didn’t have a clue what to do without him

LostAlone, Guilty, Horrified, Angry, and Heartbroken. These feelings were growing, not fading. Soon enough, from everyone, to everything, I began hating.

We had both lost all our love, our worlds stopped. I had no idea who to talk to, and was pretty sure I didn’t want to all the same.

It was if none of this was true, looking back now. Remembering the amount of responsibility and guilt I was feeling and was increasing quickly.

Had I shut my mouth, and just listened to him rather than be a brat insisting him to cross the street, he would be alive and not crushed to death? I kept yelling, hurry up, hurry up hurry up hurry up hurry up hurry up — chanting in my head as I stare at his stone representing an identity to this burial or grave.

I just felt sick. I remember my anger kept growing. Now I was pissed, realizing, that this is how we respect our dead? Why beneath the earth? What’s up? I lost it, trying to dig him out and take him to water or even beneath a tree. Clearly not in a healthy state of mind.

My actions proved how confused I was, that all my free time was spent on his grave, and not a sole I could think of to turn to. That’s when, what would become a good friend, the cemetery groundskeeper stopped me from digging. W spent hours talking, and he knew so much. That day forward, everyday I spent there, he found time to sit with me awhile.

Given I went to his grave everyday and had all the time to do so, I moved in. Cigarette butts around, pop cans, and the worst, came the drugs.

Whatever means high or not, I wrote. I wrote lyrics about anger and rage, guilt and shame, visions stuck in my head and nightmares.

I always felt Darren was listening and I found some comport in writing. I had found my home, and not yet 15.

I got to know the groundskeeper quite well, he always seemed to get my back. He would gently wake me as night would approach. Their gates closed by 10. Not that I didn’t get over those a few nights needing to sleep on Darren’s body.

I truly was lost, so alone, part by choice, and no clue what to do with my time now, never mind, how to leave him alone in that place, where he lie to rot.

Goodbye my Lover, Goodbye my Friend

What if there was no time left, Like you’ll never see me again Alicia Keys

Greek One that's 3 of 100!
Greek One that’s 3 of 100!

Still I keep searching for a means to find some closure

Love and Loss. Our first loves, for the most part, will leave, as I said earlier. Though a shock at the time, many, well I, believed deep in my heart, forever, was just a given.

As I aged, never letting go, I held onto guilt, anger and growing resentment. Why did my first love, my Fairy Tale, have to end so tragically? I would feel nauseous even to think what about him?

Forget love, he was taken from everything he knew, had wanted, and could be experiencing. Darren was taken from life.

My belief today, comes from an understanding, there is no timelimit as to when someone is able to let go. Without letting go of, the person. If that makes any sense at all. It has been 30 years right now end of August, and I can barely get through typing a sentence per day only to find myself deleting it.

I was shocked when I saw the first comment from me dated 4 months ago. I also was given some good but hard to hear advise. ‘Kimberly, it will never be good enough, and you can never honour him to the expectation you have set forth. If you in fact do want closure, publish this hub and edit after if need be.’ That was 2 hours ago, 4 am. I will do this. I can.

My time is due. Due today. Today because I am admitting, right or wrong, I feel responsible for the death of my first and forever greatest love. I need to be able to say, I feel it was I, that, ultimately killed him. So how am I going to forgive myself? Forgive, only now, I can. Because yes, it was an accident and yes, a fluke as they say, but most of all, because, of course his death, would be the last thing I would want for him, ever.

I am positive in the last three years, he has tried whispering to me, in the breeze. I would be so happy, if he is able to break through, so I can understand what he is trying to say.

No more goodbyes Darren.

Now thirty years, to the month. As I cherish, always, the details, hopes, memories, gifts and experiences, you gave me, I now stop mourning, but will celebrate.

You were my first, will forever be my first, and wouldn’t change a single thing, with the exception of your tragedy, of course.

So Darren, as I sit, this upcoming weekend, on your sidewalk square [southeast, south side of road, 12 squares from Northbound Road], I will chalk in Pink, RIP, sit awhile and begin to heal. To celebrate, you, us. Not to leave.

Babe, I wouldn’t want to be me, had I not had YOU!

Godspeed Darren, Godspeed.

RIP


Hubs for me, most grateful!


Poetic Form-The Cento-Tom Rubenoff, Strangers Among Us – bbnix, Breaking Free-Cardisa, 21st-Century-Heroine-Fights-Addiction-and-Ghosts-of-Christmas-Past-sligobay,Me and maybe you-blake4d,My little Firefly-Blondey,Allana-bbnix,Flattered-by-an-Agoraphobe-mythbuster,billyjeanslove-bbnix,A sense of Kimberly-bbnix,Mon-amie Kimberly-blondey,What is the purpose of a shattered heart? Micky Dee,Pink Umbrellas top ten hubbers-pink umbrellasTop 200 hubbers for 2009-AEvans,Kimberlyslyrics-is-MrDSpade,on the Eve of my 200th Hub-blake4d,Day 624-blake4d,Day 672-blake4d,Superpowers-Learning to share-The Blagsmith


Someone I use to know


 

Someone I use to know

I’ve become someone I use to know

Don’t know how I went so low

No, not another story

I truly am sorry

Please tell me now, today

Please tell me your, okay

I was ever so vain

Thought you knew the same

Now I’ve made you mad

Now I can’t shake being sad

I went out and played

I was selfish to have strayed

Please tell me now, today

Please tell me your, okay

Come, come back tonight

Only for love not to fight

Let me hold you in my arms

Protect you from any harm

It’s always been you baby

I just got mean and lazy

Please tell me now, today

Please tell me your, okay

In another life, this wouldn’t be

So let’s start again, I’ll let you see

Can’t replace you with anyone to show

I want to be the woman you use to know

You got me losing my mind

I can’t do anymore time

Please tell me now, today

Please tell me your, okay

Don’t make me out of control

I’m down and ready to crawl

I just can’t let you go

I’m screaming so you know

I am a fool with regret

I swear I will never forget

Please tell me now, today

Please tell me your, okay

My love was stopped by ignorance

But baby I can’t stand your absence

Just say how, just say what

My heart is bleeding from my own cut

Drunken fool I won’t remember

That stupid night last December

Please tell me now, today

Please tell me your, okay

Please?

I have sifted through the devils lye

I just can’t take another cry

Baby I’m so alone

Please stay on the phone

Please?

Click.


I surrender into you


 

I have found you

 

Grab my hand, hold me tight

Make love to me, just right

 

Let me into your zone

Don’t let me be alone

 

You have since become

My only one and only one

 

Just one life

Just one life

Together

 

It runs too deep

One I must keep

 

We are not done

There is still more fun

 

I was washed away

Long gone are those days

 

What if there was no time

And no reason or rhyme

 

I must be by your side

You must stay inside

 

What if there was no song

No right and no wrong

 

Let’s take a breath and try

No more goodbyes

 

Just one life

Just one life

Together

 

We won’t bend and we won’t break

The risk we already did once take

 

Now I think I know why

We didn’t trust enough to try

 

And now I wait in total trust

You can to, you just must

 

Every step I take in surrender

No questions just me, deeper

 

It takes the heart a little longer

To grow together stronger

 

I miss everything

Lessons I sing

 

Thank you for coming home

Coming home to all you’ve known

 

I needed you and there you were

I love you my best friend, my cure

 

Oh yah, sweet love and nobody else

Never again taking for granted to tell

 

That what we know we can have again

You say where and I’ll say when

 

My lullaby that puts me to sleep

My chariot I am now to keep

 

Just one life

Just one life

Together

 

You are all 4 seasons in one

Changing each day to sun

 

All my love

You have to be an angel from above

All my love

 

Just one life

Just one life

Together

 

There is nothing I need more to do

Than surrender right into you


Book Two published on smashwords


 

More Unnecessary Poetry    by Kimberly 
Price: $4.99 USD. 8990 words. Published on February 19, 2012. Fiction.
A collection of another 30 poems from my mind’s imagination. Ranging from life to death, joy to pain, ridiculous to emotional. Each inspired from a moment of how life has been, how it is, and how it could be. moreunnecessarypoetry is a direct extension and continuation from book one. Hopefully continuing to touch a reader’s imagination, as nothing has done thus far.

kimberly on smashwords


Kimberly

Your Biography

I am the simplest of people in certainly the most complicated of ways. I depend almost solely on my imagination to take me through every day. I love pillow fights, baths, clean high thread count white cotton sheets and the art of photographing writing? I know. Yes, inventor as well. Yes I make myself laugh. I may add quite often, quite hard and for long periods of time. I think I am hilarious.

Not in the telling a funny joke way, actually I never get jokes. But in a OMG kinda way. Difficult to explain and I so wish I was a writer to articulate my funniness or humor suppose is a more classy term. I’m all about class, oozes from me. Yep classy natural humor.

Thank goodness I find myself funny, most don’t. They think I am serious or weird or just don’t understand me, until of course, they get to know me.

I know every part of my life that has not killed me, has defined me. I am a clean junkie of 24 years using daily with needles in countries all over the world. I stand before you not proud to be clean, rather knowledgeable and I beg of you, if you are struggling, just reach out. Besides you can always have this life back in a moments time! Your not bad just sick. Mostly, you are not alone my friend.
Peace
Out

Where to find Kimberly online

Your videos

Ghetto Gosspel
[remove video]

Tupac may have been the greatest poets of our time. May he rest in peace shot dead at 36. This rappers lyrics and desire to make a difference has inspired me for years. This video says and shows more truth than most like to watch. It’s painful. Tupac lived this and his music saved him. Only to be killed by the very thugs that fought him.

Your Books

Unnecessary Poetry    by Kimberly 
Price: $6.99 USD. 11420 words. Published on January 20, 2012. Fiction.
     (5.00 from 1 review)
A collection of moments from my mind’s world. As a child my favourite play time was to imagine. My imagination took me places no one else knew about, places that were fairy tales and places I actually created. They were always places of fun. As a woman at 45 I still thrive on my imagination to work the same way. I hope this touches your imagination in a way maybe it has not been before.

Kimberly ’s tag cloud

addictive    erotic    everyone    imagination    mistress    moments    poetry    real    series    sinners

No one should be immortal


By prey

No one should be immortal

 

Hunting activities

Cause my fangs to bleed

Teasing me for what I need

It is cold. It is boring. It is mundane, even monotonous. It is never ending. It is dry and slow. It is ageless full of nothing to celebrate. It comes to me as a gift would be intended yet there is no gift. While it strengthens me in powers, it bores me to repeat using them. It is never slippery or full of any danger for me and therefore carries no challenges. It suggests I will adapt to an ever fast paved future, yet nothing impresses me. It is called be immortal and all it represents might as well be living dead.

This probably the main incentive behind hunting a particular model of human. Without doubt follows a long second to revenge and justice. Unraveling the mysteries of the universe could never be true. This chase of doubt seems careless and without purpose to me. I need to be in the trenches. Always have. Tis why I bite my own wrists to bleed, when I am alone and without hunting activities.

The two hidden species I have lived as, created one that I cannot escape from. Bitten as a fallen angel, near death and completely demoralized by the worlds oldest vampire apparently stands alone and without name. I am certain now that I live alone to which I have grown to call my species ‘vampter’.

Leaves me quite safe in theory. My powers, original species standing alone, private, memories of an angel and lethal as a vampire, I am ruthless, unknown of guilt yet again still left immortal.

I have had mortals beg me to bite them and bring them back as vampire. Of course these mortals I mostly never do. Their motives are childish and reasoning’s book read as though some fairy tale. If they only focused in totality and knew the truth of what I am and what I do.

I never am ill, so I need not heal. I feel no pain, therefore fear nothing physical. I close naturally fast. So much so, it would be impossible to bleed to death. I crave to a painful level the need to orgasm. I do this quickly and strongly and do not need penetration or to be touched. However I love the fumbling of a mortal, still unaware of me, trying to please me. So very few do before my patience runs out and the taste of their blood becomes a much stronger ecstasy for me. I do not gain or lose weight, suppose that has to do with a liquid diet, consistent with the amount and nutrients I need.

Rather than do what I hate is done for me, I will not assume you do not understand my point. This book is simply a start in a series of recording my kills for the sole purpose of revenge.

My journey continues, however my memory does not.

My weakness. My memory. Short term memory. Sometimes, long term. I lived as a fallen angel some 2,000 years ago and then without choice, as a vampire 1,000 years ago, rather living as both.

Once bitten, I was not stripped at the evil angel and rebel I already was. I was so weak and alone. Weak to defend myself, then alone from my group given I never did what I was told and was desperately trying to become human.

I was 15 years old. Seems so hard to imagine now. Laying to rest my wings, I have since lost. Laying in a field of dandelions weeds on a midsummer’s dream enjoying the warm soft breeze I felt and closed my eyes. My tiny old dirty dress had served me well for sometime. I was in the corner of the field clearly not inhabited or pruned by man in a very long time. The grass must have been 6 or 7 feet high and thick as my black hair………………… tbc…….


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