Elise's Journal

girl with the shaky soul

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28 February 1985
External Services:
  • behrbemine@livejournal.com
I find pieces of me scattered in the wind as it sweeps me along and forces me forward to a place I don't want to be. I write my life as if it were a novel that I dare to covet even though I'd rather not. I convince myself that I see beauty in the tragedy that surrounds me, because in the end, I figure it's better to be deluded than to see only black.

I could be shallow about all of this and list the various celebrities that are this beauty I see amidst the emptiness. Instead I'll be honest, and show that the beauty in my life lives in the one precious face that is my eternal sunshine. My daughter's middle name is my own; her first name comes from two angels in my life: the figure skater, Sasha Cohen, and Alex, one of my truest friends. Alexandra (Sasha) Elise she is. She is my livelihood, my excuse for remaining on this planet with all of its pieces and wind.

My baby is what I have given to the world. Her destiny will be what I follow as I continue on, picking up pieces of myself strewn here and there. As for my destiny? Well. I write what I see. I see what is tragic, I see what is beautiful; I see my miniature sunshine. I write stories that go unloved, with characters I feel more for than many human beings I've come across myself.

Illnesses pummel me and steal much from my memory. It seems to be getting worse with every year. Books I've read, things I've learned, movies that I've loved: all subject to disappear and appear to me anew in a future, perhaps. I battle this by taking pictures of my daughter and making them my "photographic memory". I try to view this lack of memories as an opportunity to always be seeing things for the first time, rather than letting it eat away at hope inside of me simply because I cannot retain.

I read, a lot. I comment, every time. I give feedback that garners feedback in return, sometimes. If I cannot attain the ability to write my own stories as I would like, I find comfort in that my feedback given to other stories is loved, and sometimes praised. And then I write stories of my own, and close my eyes tightly before reading comments made in their stead.

And in between these stories are my entries, my autobiography, the pictures that make up my memory. If you'd like to know me, and you've read the profile this far, friend me, and there's no way I'll turn you down.

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LJ Communities I Manage (obviously, as you can see, I'm terrible at pimping them):
finalfourwords ('Gilmore Girls' alternative endings)
figurskatinghet (Real People Fanfiction) -- Somebody please join...

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