Artwork I am fond of...

Painting: The Kiss
Artist: Gustav Klimt
Year: 1907
Medium: Oil and gold leaf on canvas
Dimensions: 180 cm × 180 cm (70.9 in × 70.9 in)
Location: Österreichische Galerie Belvedere, Vienna, Austria






















Painting: The Nightmare
Artist: Henry Fuseli
Year: 1781
Medium: Oil on canvas
Dimensions: 101.6 cm × 127 cm (40 in × 50 in)
Location: Detroit Institute of Arts



















Painting: Study for the Dream Sequence in ‘Spellbound’
Artist: Salvador Dalí
Year: 1945
Medium: Oil on panel
Dimensions: 58.7 x 84 cm (23 1/8 x 33 1/16 in.)
Location: Private Collection




























Painting: The Gross Clinic
Artist: Thomas Eakins
Year: 1875
Medium: Oil on canvas
Dimensions: 240 cm × 200 cm (96 in × 78 in)
Location: Philadelphia Museum of Art



















Painting: The Pilgrimage To The Island Of Cythera
Artist: Jean Antoine Watteau
Year: 1717
Medium: Oil Painting on Canvas
Dimensions: 129 × 194 cm (50.79 × 76.38 in)
Location: Louvre National Gallery

The Bathroom.....

It usually started with hours of emotional and mental torture. He would follow me around the house calling me names, degrading me, shaking his head at me while giving me looks of disappointment. As if I had betrayed him or done something wrong, as if I had done something to deserve it. I could usually tell when the situation was going to turn volatile. I could see the craziness in his eyes, I would try and prepare myself for what was coming. I was afraid, I feared him. He would always wait until the right moment when I went to the bathroom, then he would trap me. He always trapped me in the bathroom. It was located in the back of the house at the end of the hallway; where there was no escape. He would pin me against the wall holding me by the hair, screaming in my face. His voice was so loud and so close that I could feel his breathe, I could feel him spitting on me. I would stand there with my eyes closed as the tears ran down my face, trying to block it out, trying to keep the vicious words from causing me further hurt and humiliation. He would tell me things like: "He knew what kind of a girl I really was." "I was nothing but a whore." "I should be thankful that he wanted me." He would break me down inside entirely, he would make me hate myself even. The more I tried to block out what was happening the more he would shake me and scream, "Are you paying attention to me, are you listening?" And if I did not respond he would hurt me even more. He would force me to look him in the eyes as he threatened, hit, and devalued me. Sometimes he would grab me by both sides of my face, and squeeze and shake me so violently that my teeth would cut into the inside of my jaws. I could taste the blood in my mouth, but the more I screamed, cried, and begged for him to stop the more he would continue to hurt me. He would squeeze so hard that the next day I would have bruises on the sides of my face and ears, it would hurt to even lay on my pillow. When he would get his fill of torturing and beating me he would lock me in the bathroom and tell me, "You need to think about what a good wife should be."

The first few times he tried to lock me in I fought to get out, only to quickly learn that it was not worth the extra abuse I had to suffer for trying to escape. Sometimes he would turn the hot water and shower on full blast before he left making it so hot, steamy, and hard for me to breathe; on top of my already being hysterical. It seemed like it would take forever for the hot water to run out, so the air would clear enough that I could breathe normally. If I tried to turn off the water or turn on the fan to get some fresh air he would come in the bathroom and hit me some more. He would threaten, "I am going to drown you in the bathtub and make it look like an accident, make it look like you slipped and hit your my head." I spent hours of my life, sometimes even all night being tortured, beaten, and locked in the bathroom. I would spend my lock down time wondering how I had managed to get myself into such a hellish situation. I was constantly trying to brainstorm and figure out all the different possibilities for escaping, but nothing seemed possible. There were times that I truly thought my nightmare was never going to end. To this day I am not very fond of bathrooms, as you can imagine. I don't mind public bathrooms with more than one stall, but single bathrooms that have the potential to become prison cells still slightly freak me out. My head becomes flooded with flashbacks of the abuse and I become mildly uncomfortable; claustrophobic in a sense.

Beautifully Forsaken

I absolutely love old abandoned churches. They simply fascinate me. I am not a religious person by any means, it is the beauty of the architecture that is so utterly amazing. I used to spend much of my time driving around looking for old abandoned churches, just so I could go in and explore them. I always found them to be some of the most exciting and intriguing places to visit; always an adventure. I don't know how exactly to explain it, but these old churches
just make me feel alive inside. Every time I walk inside one I am greeted by this overwhelming sense of peace and comfort. As creepy as it sounds, I always feel like I am not alone, like I am being
watched just as meticulously and curiously as I am examining the beautiful structure surrounding me. I like to find myself a quaint little spot somewhere around the center of the church and just sit quietly, listening, thinking, feeling, and taking it all in. I enjoy watching the sunlight shine through the windows, sparkling and dancing on the walls and floor with a uniqueness of spirit; unlike that of when it was inhabited. To me, it is the complete emptiness and solitude of what was once a very spiritual place that makes these structures so mysterious; this is what draws my curiosity. Millions of people converged upon these places, praising and worshiping their God. The
structure was viewed as a
sanctuary of holiness, a place of unencumbered spirituality. It was "God's" empire. Then just as quickly as the empire was built, it was abandoned and suddenly meaningless; empty of all spiritually, again simply a structure. Only now it is full of energy, full of soul, full of all the life and the craziness that once occupied it's walls. It is this soul that gives the structure it's pure beauty. The church breathes with a life of it's own, now it is free. Free to be appreciated for the true beauty and creativity of it's structural design. I will always love and be fascinated by old abandoned churches. The feeling I get when entering one is unmistakable; so very creepy yet amazingly peaceful all at the same time. A feeling like no other I have ever felt. It has been quite some time since I have had an adventure of this type. I am now inspired, I am now going on the hunt for my next abandoned architectural exploration.

Addiction

I wake, unprepared for the day
I wonder how I let it get this far
I thought I was strong enough
I thought I had it under control
I thought it would never happen to me

It started with the uncontrollable anxiety
The feelings of panic and disorder
As if something were wrong, I became ill
I began thinking irrationally, looking for a way out
I take a pill, soon all will return to normal

You became my comfort, my shelter from life
An easy excuse to hide, so easy to numb the pain
I soon began relying on you for more than my anxiety
The possibilities for relief appeared endless
I was deceived, I thought you to be a wonder drug

You stopped the nightmares of the beatings
You hid the heartache of living a lie
You allowed me to move forward, as if nothing were wrong
You gave me the strength to pretend I was happy
You provided me with a false sense of reality

When I had trouble sleeping, you were there to rescue me
When I could not eat, you gave me back my appetite
When I wanted to make my thoughts stop, you were there to distract
When I wanted to escape, you showed me the way
When I wanted to hide from myself, you secretly helped me

As the time passed our relationship began to falter
My life began spinning quickly out of control
It became clear that you were not my friend, but my enemy
You imprisoned me within false walls
You took my life away

You trapped my emotions, you stole my soul
You brought me to fear and hate myself
You enabled the horror known as my eating disorder
You taught me how to lie and hide it all
You caused me to become utterly miserable

You took away my hope and trust
You replaced it with doubt and anger
You left me second guessing my every thought and action
You made me live in constant paranoia
You caused me to settle, rather than strive to be better

You damaged my life, my family, and my relationships
You have encouraged so many of my bad decisions
You destroyed my spirit, you took away my desires
You kept me from realizing my full potential
You have cheated me out of so much

I am no longer your victim, I am no longer fooled
I have taken my life, my soul, and my dreams back
I am living and loving, rather than merely existing
I am happy, I can feel, I am free
Fuck you Xanax, I have won….