It's also very important that I am able to have a creative outlet for stories. I am able to let go and delve into characters vastly different from who I am. For instance, Abigail... http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NHTM7CK
She is a very manipulative, creepy, self satisfying individual. I might be creepy, but I'm never manipulative or self satisfying - or even selfish - yet, it's always an adventure to become another character for a book.
Then, there's http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MYIA8DA where I am able to give you a glimpse into my soul.
Not all of my poems are about me or based off of something that happened to me; they are all based off of something that happened to someone I love, or something someone I love has been through. My poetry isn't where I sit down to write what sounds good. No; I sit down and I bleed words. I feel until all the "feels" that I am feeling overflow.
I truly hope people are touched by some of what I write.
When Abigail is caught after killing a fellow school student, the United States Government holds her prisoner in the hopes of her leading them to more vampires. Offered a chance of freedom and a new life, she agrees to lead them to the vampire who Turned her, but Abigail is a cunning, manipulative vampire, wanting only one thing: to kill. Her captor’s complacency will expose them to truth of what it means to be in the presence of vampires. They always lust for blood, and Abigail has no qualms about getting what she wants. For More: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NHTM7CK to read the rest!!
Preston sat beside Cassidy and exclaimed, "I just love cake so much. I can't get enough of it."
She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, we know how much you love cake."
Joan giggled, "I love cake, too, Cassidy. I wish you did."
Cassidy squirmed, "Oh come on, you know I like ice cream instead."
The all turned as Luke came into the cafe with Bryce. Luke beamed at them, "Hey, I didn't know you guys were here!"
Joan gestures for them to sit down, "There's still room. Have a seat."
Both of them squeezed around the small round table and the waitress came over asking, "What can I get for you?"
Luke quickly responded, "We both want ice cream."
She smiled, "OK, well, if that's what you want....I guess you can have it." She glanced around the room, "You sure?"
Bryce nodded, "Absolutely positive."
She gave another nervous glance and went to the kitchen area.
They all heard the sound of three chairs behind them scrape across the floor as two men came to stand near their table while a stern looking woman stood farther off, her arms crossed shaking her head over and over.
"So, ya like ice cream?" The tallest of the men growled at them.
Luke shrugged, "Yeah."
Cassidy quietly added, "I like ice cream, too. What's wrong?"
Taller man continued, "It's an abomination to like ice cream, boy."
Bryce tensed, "We can like whatever we want. It has nothing to do with you."
"I believe it does. See, you comin' in here shows you think you can do whatever you want."
"We can." Bryce sat up straighter, "We live in a free country."
"Look old man," Joan stood, "I don't know what your problem is, but you need to back the hell up. We can like whatever we want to like. I happen to like cake, just like you. Got a problem with it?"
The woman behind them gasped, "Charles, let's go. I can't be in this establishment anymore." She turned and left, pausing to glare through the glass of the cafe at their small table.
Preston stood, "Look Charles," he nodded at the shorter man, "sir, none of us want trouble, we came to enjoy ourselves, not be made to feel like we're evil."
"But ya are. All of you." He spit towards Luke's sandals and walked out leaving a stunned cafe behind.
Luke took Bryce's hand, "I'm sorry."
Preston glared at everyone who had sat so quietly through their altercation, wondering who else would have something to say.
Cassidy hugged Luke, "Let's go home you guys. You can come to my place."
They all left the cafe and the waitress apologized as soon as the doors closed. "I'm sorry you all had to witness that."
In the quiet that followed, a small boy asked, "What's wrong with liking ice cream? I like ice cream, too."
His mother snatched him from the chair, "No son, in this family, you will not like ice cream. You like cake. Remember? Mommy has told you that."
His eyes swept the room, lingering on the ice cream, "but, I don't like cake, Mom."
I find myself stuck in these repeating patterns lately.
I forgive, move on, let go, and then turn around and grab the same thing I let go, it bites me again, I suffer in pain, forgive, move on, etc, etc.
I'm not sure why as a human we tend to do this.
I'm not sure why I do it.
I know logically that what I go back to is causing me pain and that I am not progressing because of it, yet somewhere in my heart I feel this need to try again hoping for another result.
How do we break the pattern or stop the cycle?
I get so annoyed by myself and my own stupidity.
So, maybe you didn't know, maybe you did, regardless, not only do I write, but I also model. That by the way was a terribly long run on sentence. I enjoy modeling, and posing, and all the things that go along with it. However, I do not enjoy the mentality that showing any skin is vulgar, or even pornographic. There seems to be this notion that as a woman, if I choose to show skin I am becoming something suddenly more sexualized.
There's beauty in the body.
There's beauty in the female form.
Everything becomes sexualized though.
I'm really trying to show women you can be curvy and love your bodies.
Photo credit goes to Lindsey Worthington Photography
Model is of course me, Elizabeth Azpurua
Do you like standing beneath the stars, their light and patterns comforting, soothing, calming and yet sometimes exhilarating?
I love night walks and gazing at the phases of the moon, tracking its dance across the sky; far more at peace beneath its cool light than the blazing sun.
I like foggy twilight as it settles in, the sun gone down, night birds alive with the hush of woods.
I like dark wooded paths, haunted places, and spooky trees; I wish to say "I have arrived friends, let me haunt with you".
Some of us like the darkness, revel in the night, the crisp air, the cool wind.
Where there are souls aching for bright days with outstretched arms to the sun, there are those of us in shadow, running out into sunsets, dancing with crickets and bats as the stars become brighter and the sky darker.
We like black and midnight blue, we like deep purple and dark grey - we are the ones content to sit in darkness with no light or candle at peace with the night.
We are the ones captivated by the enormity of the universe above us and marveling at shadows cast by the moon.
For us, 3am is not uncommon a time to be awake, vibrant, and unafraid.
Balmy nights with cicada symphonies, brisk chilly nights with falling snowflakes, thunderous storm rich nights of lightning wars and still autumn nights of October chill are our playgrounds.
What separates us from others? Nyctophelia some call it. A love of night? Oh, yes. A nocturnal need and a lust for starlight. The moon is our beacon, and the darkness our solace.
Do you ever have those moments of clarity where you suddenly realize you have been allowing yourself to suffer for the same thing for months and months? Or years and years?
Do you ever just wonder why you cannot step out of the circle you keep walking?
Why do we put ourselves through so much instead of letting go and moving on?
It is like we enjoy these circles.
These endless days of never moving forward.