6/29/2016 The Alcoholic

To start the day right all begins with some Baileys Irish Creme and coffee. I drink 7 cups and realize I want a bigger kick. I walk into the garage and make my way to where I hide all my Jager bottles. I look in the canister, nothing there. I look in the freezer, moving all our meat around, nothing there. I look on top of the refrigerator, in the basket that sits up there. Nope, nothing there. I frantically start looking in all the packed boxes, the attic, under the tables, everywhere and all around. Nope, nothing. By this point, I am starting to lose my buzz and I am getting pissed. Where is all my alcohol?

My phone rings, its my friend D. I am so excited we are going to celebrate my newfound freedom this weekend. Friday night rolls arounds and we get into our favorite club. We know the owners, the bartenders, the bouncers, and the DJ’s. We get our drinks for free, we get in for free, and we get protection for free. We party it up with our friends all night long, dancing into the night. I feel free, I feel amazing, I feel like maybe this is what heaven feels like. My feet magically lift themselves above the wooden slick floor as I break out my favorite Michael Jackson song- smooth criminal.

Its 3:30am everyone has gone home, and we are left there with the staff, DJ is playing all our favorite 80’s songs. Everyone is getting seriously fucked up more so than we were earlier. I want to hear my mixed favorite song- two of hearts by stacey q. I tell my friends I will be right back. I walk slowly, stumbling my way down the stairs, hanging on to the rail. Everything is moving out of place and I feel dizzy, should I just stay inside I wonder to myself. The alcohol puts a superhero mask on me and convinces me I am fine and I can protect myself. I am barely able to see, its all blurry, but I stumble my way to my truck finding it tucked away in the VIP parking lot. I unlock it, I go into the back door to get my CD case. Someone strong and ugly and cruel comes up behind me and bangs my head on the metal around my window. I am crying and begging this man to let me go. I am not strong enough to fight him off me, I can’t get away from him. I hear the fabric of my clothes ripping, for me it was a strange sound. Fear takes over my entire self, I start begging and crying, I can feel my warm blood rushing down my face and around my ears, all around my neck. Panic sets in I start screaming all my friends names. I scream louder than I have ever screamed in my life HELP ME. No one is around its an empty parking lot, on an empty street. Early morning hours that brings out thugs, evil individuals, and criminals. Why did I come out here alone? I feel something hard hit the back of my head.

I wake up crumpled behind my passenger seat on the floor. My hands, legs, and feet are the only thing I can see and they are covered in blood. My entire body aches, yet I can’t feel anything but a numb feeling in my heart. My body has been violated in the worse way. I reach down between my legs and look for my underwear, realizing a few minutes later that they are by my feet. Between my female part and anus my skin is ripped apart. I look in the rear view mirror and my face is covered in dried up blood and dirt. Why did this happen to me, where do I go, what is next, who can I call? So I curled up in my back seat and cried myself to sleep.

Fast forward years later I am still drinking. I guess some people aren’t meant to learn their lessons. I never stopped drinking. But taking a second and looking all around me, all these tubes, machines, and needles. It’s a bit scary. However, I get to go home tomorrow and I can’t wait to get home and pour me some jager and red bull and get totally wasted. I deserve it after spending a month in the hospital. I deserve a reward. I crave alcohol like a woman in menstrual period craves chocolate. You get to succumb to your weaknesses, why can’t I?

The Alcoholic

Written by: Tasha Geller

Tasha Geller © copyright 2016




The Drug Addict 6/23/16

I actually woke up, is the first thought that goes through my mind when I wake up. Every time I find myself falling asleep, the last thought before drifting into a dark hole is take me somewhere else, don’t let me wake up. It could be in the early morning hours, late afternoon, or midnight. I have no routine, I get high until I pass out. Sometimes I am up for days. My longest stretch was 6 days before I crashed. On day 3 paranoia set in. I started seeing things. This is not my fear. Im used to this. This is my confession. May it be an eye opener for anyone that doesn’t understand this life. It’s real. It’s honest. It’s truth.

I woke up and tried to pull my arms around to my sides, but I couldn’t they were stuck. I tried opening my eyes wider but I couldn’t summon up the strength. I couldn’t feel my legs. I felt the stickinest, the slimiest, the most horrible smell under my body. It was my own vomit. It was paralyzing. I laid there, and I guess it took far too long to realize I wasn’t breathing to good.

I had no home, I was living in a confined place. No water or food. No heat or air. Nothing but the walls around me. Even nature ran from me. I was alone all the time. I didn’t want to live anymore. I did nothing but hurt every single person that has ever came into my life. I’m a curse and the longevity of taking these drugs have numbed my feelings for so long. Not anymore. I feel everything. Guilt, abandonment, shame, resentment(mostly towards myself), remorse, embarrassment, and the biggest of all was fear. Fear of how I am going to make it out of here, where do I start.

My girls mean everything to me, I go through what pictures of them I do have. I think about them everyday. I sit here and have conversations with them, conversations they have never heard. I beg them every day to forgive me for being everything they expect from me. They don’t know any different, they have only learned disappointment from me.  I don’t know them personally, I only know them the way I imagine them to be. My dad didn’t know how to be a dad, I don’t know how to be a dad. This is something that only can be taught. Im out of luck. I lost my chance. Thats no excuse I know, I have let this drug, who I call Satan take over my whole world and lock me up in chains way down in that dark basement. No windows, no air, no light. Spiders, insects of all kinds crawling around my head and into my ears and my nose. My only escape from the sadness I feel everyday is to go somewhere else. Any where but here.

Each breathe I was breathing was coming one big grasp about every minute. Which is not good, I had to find a way to lay on my side, and align my arms where I could breath. It took me 5 minutes in high world but it was actually a minute. I got it done, I could breath and I needed to get outside asap. I couldn’t move I tried so hard, my face fell down and my stomach both were emerged with vomit. I cried, I cried so loud. I screamed as tears came down my face and spit came out of my mouth and the veins in my forehead were popping out hard. I begged God for a second chance, I promised to try to restore my life and that I wouldn’t be selfish anymore. I cried some more I was mostly sad because this is not how I pictured wanting to die, I wanted my girls there. I still want to tell them I am sorry and that I love them more than they truly will ever know.

I cried myself to sleep, it calmed me and somehow saved my life. You would say that is great. That’s FANTASTIC! No, its not because I have been so used to being alone that I do not know how to interact correctly with people anymore. I am full of anxiety. I still haven’t made contact with my girls. Maybe one day I will, when I have the courage to own up to not giving them a life with a loving dad in it. It will be so hard to see those tears. What if their imaginary selves are really different? What if I can’t make them smile, or ever laugh? What if I never get a hug, a real one? I don’t want to admit I am a failure. I can’t become that again. Back to the beginning where I still assume everyone would be better off with out me. This is the 37th time today I have talked myself out of slipping up and cooking some drugs to shoot up my between my toes, or my arm. Each day is different. So from me to you. Don’t do drugs, even if you are just wanting to try it out to see what it feels like. It only takes one time, which was my case. Its not worth it in the end with the high, rush, and excitement. Thats only temporary, being a prisoner of your mind for the rest of your life that’s permanent. Or so it seemed for me. I truly will one day be the best kind of me there is. I will find a way. I’ve got today beat, next… we gotta beat tomorrow.

Life is still lonely,
The drug addict.

Written by: Tasha Geller ©copyright 2016

6/23/16 The secret hour- written in 1994


I wish I had the perfect childhood, like so many of my “friends”. They all seem so perfect while they fix their hair in the mirror that hangs on the rusted walls in this watering hole. Applying that overkill color of red to their little soft luscious rolls called lips. Yea, you know that one in particular that would never try anything but maybe a kiss, but only when they are drunk, so innocent. I use to envy anyone that wasn’t designed or built like me…tough and rough.

As I grow older I’d like to think that I have made my life how I want it, and I don’t have to live with those demons anymore. Instead I learned to dance with them. Life is what you make it. If every decision comes easily to you, then I applaud you. You have made it. Me on the other hand, my decisions are difficult, every single day of my life. I wouldn’t have it any other way though. Everything happens for a reason, and I know this is who I am. I shall embrace my inner being and take every blissful journey as it comes.

The Secret Hour-

What ones heart feels, and what the tongue speaks, are two different things.

The heart can feel so much love, yet not knowing it’s in pain sends out a different ring.

The eyes tell so much of hidden pleasures, and desires withheld,

To catch the glimpse of a blink is knowing how to test the bells.

The body longs to feel the touch of another’s gentle grip,

To feel the taste and softness of the lovers lips and hips.

The flesh feels the need to want its insides to vibrate in coolness breeze,

Laying its tenderness, excitement to the mind, leaving it at a timeless ease.

The soul lit up with a burning, endless lust and power,

Crackling and burning, the open door where you spend your secret hour.

Rebellion and hate, I’ve led those to see in I,

To tell the truth oh lover, I’d rather die.

For your ego a boost, heart so weak, you’re a fool,

For you know nothing of how to love without following the rules.

Your soul lonely, weak, wanting someone to fulfill your lustful desires,

To break into your soul and flow throughout you, so weak, I will set you on fire.

You can’t see what you don’t look for, if you looked closely into me, you’d see much more.

A welcome open heart, fulfilled with love and trust,

But also open to those pleasures of hunger and lust.

By: Tasha Geller, written in 1994

Tasha Geller ©copyright 2004

The stalker 6-3-16

Trust me you will want to read this one entirely! Enjoy 🙂

A couple was over at our house couple nights ago and the topic of me locking all the locks all the time came up. If I am being real the reason I am always doing that, is because the longer I can keep the attacker out the longer I can plan my attack. Where do I start, what angle do I need to be, how high will I have to swing, will I need something solid, or will my knife throwing/jedi skills be enough to take on this MOFO. What if its more than one. How good are they with guns, do they even have guns. I don’t know why I think like this. I’m also that mother that doesn’t allow sleep overs for her children I guess I just don’t want to ever leave them vulnerable. I also do not let them play outside unless I am there or I can see them. And when I do allow them to play in our backyard, they have a timer on and they  know the escape route whichever way the stranger or some one they know comes in the yard, or through the house. I know I am insane. I shouldn’t be this crazy but you know what its something I stand strong on and will not budge. In saying that I would like to share with you guys something very personal to me and pretty much explains a lot of maybe why I am the way I am when it comes to this.

The italic font is the stalker obviously. Some people get confused though…..

The Stalker

A bright white glare stares back at me, as I reach across and pull back my curtains. The bitter cold slips through the cracks, while I watch the children build a snowmen. Across the way, a man daring and old, gives me a wave, dropping an envelope. Shakily I dress, shoes, hat, gloves last, I carry on over, to where he once stood.                After a tear shed, and my shivering stops, I recap, SAD and SHAKEN I, ghostly guided again, I can’t face the pain of remembering his grin,                                                                  Forced to a sofa, his crumbled letter in hand, my eyes swollen, my heart breaking once more, I read what he wrote me, his imaginary plan.

“- My darling I’ll be back to get you, we’ll ship to the shore, the one where my mother and father were born. We’ll go for walks, and have talks, you’ll see,  for you will always be so happy with me. No more tears for you, my dear, do you hear, we are at the end of our troubles, for this I swear. You are my lady, my flower, my power, that holds up my love at the top of your tower. Your innocence lighting the way, we were meant to be. Don’t hesitate darling, you know we are right, to go on with our lives, we can concur this fight. Come see me in the morning, by our pile of wood, I’ll be dress in black; I’ll be wearing a hood. Please respond to my letter, don’t ignore my pleas. For I can make our fantasy come true by Christmas Eve.”

At first he faced like the blank stares, the what are you doing here look? To risking his morals in breathless dares, and lowering his eyes on my left foot, Then over to my right, why suddenly breathing my air?

HIs interest changed so fast, it blew that spark, tumbling words whispering in my ear, “Cars out of gas, lets walk through the park, lets take a stroll on this day every year, this sold to us time, to rhyme with fear.”

My eyes so onto his game ,with fright they chased the glances for I need some direction.  A dead flame is awakened, overpowered by shadow, sucking out my air as the heat grows higher. My chains start to rattle, I can’t get loose, I’m kept, and tied to a predestined atmosphere, whatever is left, That which I hold most sacred in my heart, the half unsheltered, returns to the start. Where I was before I became ripped apart.

“You dared away my morals, you keeper of sin, my black horse whom love can’t be hidden within. Five days of thoughts I had connected with you, then nights of dreams of how to drop you the clue. Many years gone by, I felt the warmth on and off, hugs and kisses, your well place lips so soft. My inner beating hails high don’t stop- don’t move, this isn’t real life; you have nothing to prove. But now I take a stand, in hopes that you command, to have my hand and move to a foreign land. So we can explore all that there is, inside of us each, the side for many decades we’ve been told is weak. Let us enjoy all the pleasures and treasures we seek.”

That was the last letter before being consumed, lurking in the dark, he met his doom.     Hit from behind he fell to the ground, silence was his friend; no one heard a sound

Memories still come and go everyday, his presence a fog that will disappear I pray.                I was stuck in a hole waiting for hours, for someone to find me, un-deflowered. The flashes of red and blue, swarmed my side. Thank God we found her, is she still alive? Streaks of black circled around my eyes, that night my kidnapper mysteriously died. One day, I will be free, haunted no more, by the stalker who buried me on the shore.


Tasha Geller ©copyright 2004