Episode Two - Was it ever Love?

A lot has been on my mind lately, which doesn't seem new to anyone that read the last Thru My Eyes, at this point it's practically normal. I've always got something stuck on my brain that never seems to leave and it eats at me, piece by piece, until I get it out of my head. This time in particular was the worst. Many nights I usually wake up in my own sweat and tears anyway but this one had so much heartache, I wondered if it was even still connected. A pain that can't be explained until you've really lost that one closest to you. Through natural disaster like a house being torn to shreds with them inside, or an illness that has taken their last breath away right in front of you. Feelings like those are the kind that I have been experiencing. Yeah, it's not a fun ride at all.

Do you ever wonder if that one person that you had fallen head over heels for was truly with you because they loved you or they loved the idea of you? Years have passed and I still think this way. I feel crazy because I carry this strong coat of armor everyday like I don't get feelings like this, but I do. Everyone does. Even the strongest man cries when they stomp on a flower. Maybe not the best description but you get the point. I've never fallen for anyone else the way I have fallen for her.

This person was so special to me in just about all of the ways that a human can make another happy. I've always been free about my sexuality, especially because it was easier to find comfort in the same sex with the background that I have experienced. So falling for this person meant more to me than just a one time hook-up and maybe calling back a week later when I needed more. No, this was nothing like that. I fell in love with her whole entire being, her energy, her voice, her breath. She smelled so sweet first thing in the morning and her soft voice would sing right through my ears. I had never been the kind to be up before the afternoon but she had me up everyday before the rooster would crow, just so I had the mornings to snuggle up to her. I'd brew us some coffee or tea, whatever the day had us feeling like, and lay my head on her chest while I listened to her heartbeat. No other human has ever made me feel this way.

I don't know what went wrong, to be completely honest. But it has made me question a lot of things about how that relationship came to be. Did she ever love me, too? Or the idea of the affection that I was giving her? Was it truly a mutual loving feeling or was it just lust taking over the whole time? I should stop having these thoughts but it's so much easier to tell yourself to throw it out and let it go than it actually seems. I ponder continuously wondering if she'll ever come back to me and things will go back to how they are before. But I doubt it, she seems so happy and free that I would just ruin it by bringing her back around here. I mean, my life is a little too extreme for most so yeah, I'd be putting her in even more danger now than before.

I'm scared to get close to anyone else because the pain that the heart goes through hurts more than a bullet leaving more than a graze. So I have lead a lustful trail since. I'm happy not having to commit to anyone and worry about how they feel. I'm happy that I can come and go as I please without the idea of hurting someone. I'm so happy that I could die today and not have someone so deathly heartbroken over my leaving. Not that I think about it but it happens. There's more to me than just the booze and pills, I know this. But the sex has never felt any better when you're living life on the edge. It has no meaning or feeling behind it, you're just there to have fun and get the job done, then leave.

Not saying I couldn't ever fall in such a heavy love again, or continue on my path through the Lust battlefield. It would just take a lot of convincing and unsheathing these feelings of mine again in order for that to happen. I'm perfectly okay with being alone. I don't think Dash and Checks are ready to give up their spots on the bed, either. I don't believe in H A V I N G to be with someone just to feel safe or okay, too. Isn't this why my father made sure I was trained to kill and to survive? Exactly. The day that I start to have loving emotions might be the day that hell has finally froze over but you'll probably know more before the rest do.

She's gone now and I have to respect that. Even the times that we still attempt to share through friendship, I have to realize that anything past that is gone forever. Like dust in the wind, gone. She will always carry a part of me that no one else will ever have and I hope she's out there somewhere with that idea in mind. I'd probably lose the rest of me if she disappeared forever but I hope whoever has the chance to earn her time and love takes the best care of her. She deserves it. I love you,  Kitten .

So you've made it to Episode 2. I hope that I'm still keeping you interested enough to keep going, you sick bastard. I didn't know anyone could be so in tune with the miseries of someone else's life. Though it possibly is the best medicine to escape and experience these feelings. That's why I keep writing out my thoughts, so you can escape your miserable life with me.

Spirit Week Task - Day 2: Moodboard Monday

☃️☃️ It's the most wonderful time of the year. ☃️☃️

Spirit Week Task - Day 1: Wishlist Sunday

Dear journal,

Even though I'm a grown ass adult now, I don't feel like there's anything wrong with keeping up with things that I've wished that I had. It is the holidays anyway. Isn't Christmas time supposed to be when you ask for these things anyhow? I know you won't get me anything but at least I have a way of remembering these things when the budget allows me to do so.

1. Jeffree Star x Shane Dawson collection 2. Upgrades for the motorcycle (before summertime <3) 3. A new pet bed for Sir William Dash & Checkers (so mommy can have her small bed back) 4. A larger bed 5. Dark colored bedroom suite with matching vanity 6. Jack Daniels (any and all bottles <3) 7. Tennessee cabin getaway 8. New leather riding boots 9. The new liquid lippies from Sugarpill 10. Anything from Lime Crime <3

Episode One - Who is Janessa Milliard?

I've realized recently that I hide so much of myself from the world and that's probably why the counseling isn't working as well as it should. I don't know if it's because I'm worried about judgement and people taking their distance from me or if it's just because I feel like it's unnecessary details of my life that people don't really need to know. I didn't ask to turn into this new persona but I guess if this is what my life is now, I might as well share who exactly Janessa Blaine Milliard is through the details that I am willing to share.

This is the part where I start on my past, right? Well okay. I wasn't always Janessa Milliard but until it is time for you to know who I was originally, this is all you will know me as. I was born in the country side of LaGrange, Georgia. Nothing fancy but a definite southern town full of sweet southern folks. My father was Chuck and my mother was Avery, last name again not an important detail to share. See what I mean? I hide so much from you and expect for my problems to go away just like that. But I guess if it helps bring my story together.. We'll just say our last name was Martin.

So here we are, the happy Martin family that people knew of us as on the outside. Close the curtains and we were the most distraught family in the whole town. My father was gone on missions as Chief of a local Motorcycle Gang called the Raptors and has been for many years, my mother the complete opposite. Surrounding areas knew her as the "lot lizard" because she'd give up anything for her only companion, drugs. When I turned 5 years of age, I started seeing less and less of them both. My father gone for weeks, even months and my mother always came stumbling in the door late with her new catch of the night. It was a very lonely life for a young girl and it was one that I didn't recommend for anyone and still wouldn't to this day.

The routine stayed the same until I hit late middle school, early high school. I was 13 years of age when my life changed for the worst. Every guy that my mother brought home were tired of her same antics and how loose and bruised her body had been ridden from the drugs and past partners. By this time, my own body had been developing and my inner beauty decided to flourish at it's best. I could even say that I was a gorgeous, young girl. Full of imagination and so much pure innocence until the night that that was taken from me. I should probably insert a trigger warning here but if you think you can handle it, then keep going.

This one night in particular is probably what haunts me to this day and if 13-year old Janessa knew about it then, she would've told you how much demons do exist in the world. Mom came home strung out like she usually did, the only difference being there were three men instead of the usual one. They sat around the living area, drinking and smoking and cutting up while they teased around with my mother. It was my fault,  I knew better than to leave my room around the times that she came home. I desperately needed a drink of water and couldn't wait through the thumping and bumping to happen in order to get it. So I headed down the short set of stairs and into the kitchen, trying my best to keep the worn steps from squeaking beneath my small feet. The noise caught attention of one of the men once I reached the kitchen and looked for a clean cup. Of course, it's hard to keep the sound of running water silent enough to make a clean break for it.

One of the men got up from the couch and went to follow the sound. I made a quick and "light as a feather" break towards my bedroom once I heard some of the loud speaking halt, only to be grabbed by the arm and quickly turned around. The only memory I have of this person now is how rugged and dirty they looked because I try not to remember their faces just in case I have another one of my nightmares. He asked where I was going and I stayed quiet with a hard swallow, scared for my life. He smirked at me, the look of evil flushed that grin of his and his eyes looked like they could've turned into flames. He called his buddies from downstairs and told them to leave the hag alone, they liked this new kitten better. That kitten... Being me. I won't go into detail of what happened after this moment but I'm sure you can picture that exact moment of terror. My innocence was then taken from me before I could even enjoy the idea of it and at that point, I hated being me.

This became my life for the next few years. Of course it was the one long period of time that my father never made it home earlier to check on us, or me for that instance. In my silent cries for help, all I could think of was "Daddy, come find me". It wasn't until I was 16-years of age that he was able to return home from a huge war ordeal out East and it couldn't have been the best timing ever. I had just walked into the door from home, the men sitting on the porch like they waited for me to get off of the bus. I was then pushed down over the kitchen table right when my dad walked in. My tears changed from sorrowful to relieved. Him and a few more of the men from the gang tore the thugs apart like they were nothing and my mother went ballistic. The two fought while the men helped pack my bags and that was possibly the last that I had ever seen or heard from my poor excuse of a mother.

The Raptors were now my new family and protection and love is all that I had ever earned from them. The next few years included a lot of survival training to hold up my own and learning to ride and manage my own bike. I was promoted into being the Raptor Princess, under my father's reign because biker royalty existed nowadays. This is where I coined the nickname, Phoenix. Because it was believed that once destroyed, they rose from the ashes and became something new and better. I couldn't say that that didn't fit me the most in my current situation. I learned how to be a warrior, a fighter, and a healer in my times of need. But apparently the moving around from city to town wasn't enough for the motorcycle club.

I was maybe 24-years old by the time my life had another turning point and I was having to be sent up to the Northern territory. A messenger had came down to report no sightings of enemy gangs in the area, at least not yet. But let me back up and explain before you ask if there are just none of them there. In between the time of my training, we found out that the men that abused me at my young age were involved in gang activity as well. That should be enough to tell you the rest so let's fast back forward. This messenger was letting us know there were no sworn enemies of THAT kind, if that makes more sense. I was now asked to leave the war room while the men discussed the new plans. A few hours had passed of walking back and forth and trying to peep as much info as I could and they all finally came out. My father sat the whole clubhouse down for a chat and this is when my move to New York became to exist. Call it a Witness Protection pact through Raptor supervision. I was made to change my name, my personality, everything along with the move. I was no longer going to be referred to by my birth name but by Janessa Milliard, still sometimes coined as Phoenix. Everything I had been through and once knew were about to be deleted from history like it never even happened. But in my mind, I knew otherwise.

Here I am now, 26-years old and living the dream. I am now in a small studio apartment in Manhattan right next to my father's mechanic shop, that was well known as Rev's Bike Shop. Along with my many new trades and qualities,  I was taught a lot about mechanic work so this worked out perfectly for me. I became someone who younger me wanted to be, wild and free and full of life and love. I found enjoyment in visiting the local nightlife scene and I have met many important people who I never see leaving. Even the person that was made to wait for me when I arrived became my closest friend, mostly because they were the only ones who knew my secrets. I've learned to love and love hard but eventually learned that it wasn't for me so I have chosen this free spirit lifestyle carefully. I was diagnosed with PTSD after a few months of arriving and now I even attend group counseling once a week. So much for a lot of that fun but at least I was able to be assigned a fur companion to accompany my outbreaks. Make sure if you see Sir William Dash, the sweetest Golden Retriever out there, to give him a wave. More than likely he'll be attached to my hip when I'm not out having a drink or two. This was the new me. This was Janessa Blaine Milliard, new and reinvented.

I hope my trip down memory lane kept you interested. I was assigned a dumb journal to keep up with my moments but that wasn't enough to get things off of my chest. I plan on doing more of these, just a little way to see how my day-to-days go and even travel back into the past through my favorite and not so favorite memories. Keep your eyes open for my "Thru My Eyes #2" coming soon.

Biweekly Task (Nov. 24th - Nov. 30th)

Waking up in the Raptor Clubhouse on Thanksgiving morning was nothing short of unpredictable. It's one of the few times out of the year that everyone stripped their leather and riding boots and exchanged them for nice button up shirts and dresses. You'd be surprised how nice some of the men cleaned up especially. For the women, it didn't take much to make a huge change. Even a regular t-shirt and sweatpants completely made a difference in appearance and gave them a more radiant glow. Most of the members didn't have a family to go to for the holiday, so the Raptor's became their home. This was all the family they needed.

Fifty-three chapter members were in attendance for the dinner. The men were in charge of simple things, like the turkeys, drinks, and the table setting. As the women made the sides and did all of the baking. This became the tradition after one year when her father and some of the other guys forgot about the stuffing and practically smoked out the whole kitchen. Everyone laughed while the rest panicked and ran for the nearest fire extinguisher to put out the small flame, leaving whatever was left of the stuffing, extremely charred. The result turned into them eating out at a local diner for the night, a memory that she could never forget. Truthfully that was what holidays were about to her. Sharing laughs and stories, smiles, all of it was the best parts about Thanksgiving with the gang.

This year felt so different though, being as there were extra bodies at the clubhouse. The smell of fresh cranberries wafted through the kitchen where some of the elder women were baking pies and making a large batch of cranberry sauce. The only thing that Janessa was looking forward to was smothering her slices of buttermilk and pumpkin pie with whipped cream, to the point that you couldn't tell what was actually on the plate. But that's exactly how she liked her desserts, every year. It wasn't even the turkey or the mashed potatoes that she looked forward to. It was the pies, the sweet potato casserole, and maybe even the fresh yeast rolls. She wasn't big on major foods, if anything, it was always the sweets.

Dinner finally rolled around and everyone found their places at the longest table possibly ever invented. Her father gave his speech like he performs every year, thanking the crew and the other chapters for joining them and everyone would clap. A prayer would go around the room, only because they tried to accept as many beliefs as possible. Then right after would be the time to dig in and eat. This is what family was supposed to feel like. Everyone was either quiet or chatting away and catching up with one another. Not a single throw of anger or crude language, everyone got along and that's all she ever wanted in her life was to see what happy was supposed to look and feel like. Family, is exactly what it looked and felt like.

Happy Thanksgiving, New  York.

Biweekly Task (Nov. 10th - Nov. 16th)

It’s 4 AM and I think I’m going to lose it...

Hey Journal,

I received that same message again.. Remember, the one that I've mentioned many times as the one that still haunts me to this day? Yeah, that one. I don't know what else to do. I try and try to push it out of my brain, roll over and fall asleep. But it's like I still feel their breath on my neck... Even Sir William is confused why I'm not sleeping. That sad, lost puppy dog look of "Mama, why no sleep"? Well, Sir. I've been trying for ages to push these memories and nightmares away. They always seem to find their ways back to me in the end. At least he does his job, I'd hate to be taking these counseling meetings for nothing. WHICH, are going GREAT, by the way!

Your heart would break if you felt the sadness in this text message that I did. "Come home." is all that keeps rattling in my brain. Even at Papa's shop, I can be replacing a lugnut and all I can think about is "come home". I don't think I could ever just "come home". My heart my be in that place with them, who shall never be named, but my mind isn't. My intuition will never be and my future knows where it needs to be. They forgot about me and moved on and I don't believe in being one to pick up the pieces, as much as I would love to take them back. I'm sorry, but I cannot come home right now. Not ever.

"Baby, please. I still love you." Yeah, isn't that what you told me before while you were laying next to your someone new? I deserve to be happy just as much as you were when you left me and leapt into this other person's arms. You didn't love me as much as you made it sound, you loved me as much as your words would allow. Two things that mean many different things and scenarios. Just like I loved you with enough nerve to let you go, you loved me enough to tell me but you walked out anyway. Don't message me because you've gotten into another argument or you're upset. Contact me later when you want me and you miss my soul and spirit. Only because I'd give you my all and my heart the way it was before.. Before it was shattered into a million pieces and stomped on while you danced with them.

I deal with enough nightmares on my own that I'm already medicated for. I don't need anything else to make me feel shitty about the life that I live. Look at who has to record in a journal just to vent because to anyone else, I'm just crazy and in need of a new psych evaluation. You've become my only loyal and faithful friend, though. At least I know that you can't just walk up and leave me like everyone else has. I've enjoyed us being alone together, we can be alone forever.

Until the next mental breakdown,

xoxo, J. Blaine