sigh
23 I's and Me's in one paragraph. impressive. you dont understand. i dont even know why i am writing this. everybody suffers. right. thanks. all i need is a friend. you are my only friend. and i just think the world of you. i need you to listen and be my friend. i never talk about what matters. i never talk about how much i hate myself because it is hard and because im afraid you might interpret a cry for help as me trying to steal all the glory in the world. we have been closer than siamese twins, closer than sonny and cher, closer than ben affleck and matt damon even, for years now, and i know you love me. and you know i love you. but i really am terrified to talk to you about what a massive fucking piece of shit i am because i am really afraid you will resent me for it. i am really, honestly afraid you will think badly of me. that i am selfish or ungrateful or hateful or spiteful and thats not how i want you to think of me. i dont understand everything about you, no. i cannot comprehend every facet of you. if i could do that, clearly i wouldnt be writing any of this because it wouldnt matter. i admit freely that it still makes me feel like shit that you for even the briefest second wanted to see my heart ripped out; wanted to see me hurt. i dont understand that. i admit it. how could it ever have crossed your mind that i am just this Superstar that everyone loves? I DONT EVEN LIKE ME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. nobody likes me. let us count my many friends and admirers, ok? ready? nick. my cousin jerry. my mom. you, if you arent too pist.
one hand. you can count the people who can stomach existing in my presence on ONE HAND. yeah, i think youre fucking she-ra, youre fucking awe inspiring. youve had more influence on the creation of the person i am today than my own mother. youve broadened my horizons just by driving me around in your car, listening to music, reading me your journals, letting me watch you draw and paint and write. you INSPIRE ME. of christing COURSE i see you as wonder woman. you always have the right thing to say to make everyone laugh, you can hug someone without feeling uncomfortable or weird, you work 2 jobs (that i know of anyway) and you go to school and you are paying for your own place to live and you make friends everywhere you go because youre one of those people that everyone likes immediately (and loves after youve been around for a while). youre That Girl that lights everyone in the room up with smiles and energy. youre That Girl that knows how to do everything right. yeah. i think the world of you. not in a two dimensional, paper doll sort of way, but the whole thing, everything you stand for and everything you are and ever shall be world without end amen pass the cookies.
you have left a mark in my life. i love you. and when i write I Love You after someones name in my head, i write it in ink. youve made me a better, smarter, more interesting individual just by having coffee with me, writing in journals with me, going for drives with me, drawing with me. you are an inspiration. if asked, id label you a Muse before a Fury, even if you may disagree, youre just that fascinating and beautiful. i will always be your friend, always. weve always been fucked up like that. nobody else could ever possibly love you as much as i do.
perhaps it was shitty of me to say the things i said, but, for fucks sake, i really have to get this out and its easier to do in writing because i can stop and think and consider how to state my case rather than trying to get 8 years worth of questions out off the cuff.
i am going to describe you here. then you tell me if i know you or not. susannah marie. 5'8". excellent taste. the sharpest knife in the cutlery drawer. incredibly intelligent, possible genious IQ, has an affinity for playing make-believe and is good at it, i might add. passionate about everything that captures her interest, makes acquaintances quickly, makes friends carefully. phenomenal writer and artist; watching her draw gives me goosebumps that i normally reserve only for certain songs or kisses on the back of my neck. has tremendous insight; not only into other people, but into her own character. could and probably has psychoanalyzed herself on occasion. falls in love twice a day. loyal, maybe to a fault. opinionated but she will hear your argument even though she will inevitably win anyway. estranged from her mother, never met her father, she tends to be hypercritical and an undercurrent of loneliness flows beneath the painted smiles and arched eyebrows. gravitates toward lost causes and hopeless fuckups whose lives end up invariably better just for knowing her. superiorly gifted at writing and articulation, she holds True Love in such high regard and yet seeks out people whom she knows will fall short. is this deliberate? is this the Wounded Bird syndrome? she loves artichoke hearts and california; courtney love and henry rollins, she keeps her friends close and her enemies dead, she can talk a good game, she writes checks her ass CAN cash, shes a poet, shes a rockstar, and she can feel more alone than she has ever felt in her life in a room full of 50 people. shes a dove, shes a fucking nightmare. it takes surprisingly little to make her happy.
i love her.
i am just sick and i need a friend. i just dont want you to hate my husband. he is trying and i love him very much. we both fucked up. i dont want you to think badly of me; i just am confused about a lot of things. i am confused about how you see me. i mean REALLY. i never wanted you to be hurt. i never wanted to see you cry. i am not trying to sound like a saint, or Little Miss Perfect, i just love you so much. i really do. and i know what is going on with me right now is hard to talk about and i know its hard on my mom and dad and husband and you and my mother-in-law and grandparents and cousins and all the way back to the fucking garden of eden for all i know, and yes, i really am sorry. i wish to christ i knew how to make this go away and leave me alone so i could go back to doing what i really want to do with my life instead of sitting here and listening to my head tell me what a bad person i am all the time. i dont want this. i am not proud of this shit. i have constructed a cage for myself and now im like some fuck who has served 50 years of a life sentence and i just got paroled and im scared as hell. i dont know whats outside my box anymore. im institutionalized. i need help. i am sorry that your life is sucking right now, but i dont know. ive been an anorectic/bulimic/cutter/whatever for my entire adult life. everybody has problems. everybody suffers. yeah. i know you have problems too. i am just trying to say i wish i could talk to you about this without worrying in the back of my mind that a couple months down the road youre going to hand me a journal entry to read about how self-centered i am and how much you cant stand me. i just wish i could sit and talk to you without thinking Ok, any minute now shes going to read me something lydia lunch wrote about how weak, pathetic, depressed people will do nothing for you but drag you down into their pit even when you are valiantly trying to save them. im no superstar. but i am not a soul-sucking jerk, either. how do i piss you off? i really want to know.
one hand. you can count the people who can stomach existing in my presence on ONE HAND. yeah, i think youre fucking she-ra, youre fucking awe inspiring. youve had more influence on the creation of the person i am today than my own mother. youve broadened my horizons just by driving me around in your car, listening to music, reading me your journals, letting me watch you draw and paint and write. you INSPIRE ME. of christing COURSE i see you as wonder woman. you always have the right thing to say to make everyone laugh, you can hug someone without feeling uncomfortable or weird, you work 2 jobs (that i know of anyway) and you go to school and you are paying for your own place to live and you make friends everywhere you go because youre one of those people that everyone likes immediately (and loves after youve been around for a while). youre That Girl that lights everyone in the room up with smiles and energy. youre That Girl that knows how to do everything right. yeah. i think the world of you. not in a two dimensional, paper doll sort of way, but the whole thing, everything you stand for and everything you are and ever shall be world without end amen pass the cookies.
you have left a mark in my life. i love you. and when i write I Love You after someones name in my head, i write it in ink. youve made me a better, smarter, more interesting individual just by having coffee with me, writing in journals with me, going for drives with me, drawing with me. you are an inspiration. if asked, id label you a Muse before a Fury, even if you may disagree, youre just that fascinating and beautiful. i will always be your friend, always. weve always been fucked up like that. nobody else could ever possibly love you as much as i do.
perhaps it was shitty of me to say the things i said, but, for fucks sake, i really have to get this out and its easier to do in writing because i can stop and think and consider how to state my case rather than trying to get 8 years worth of questions out off the cuff.
i am going to describe you here. then you tell me if i know you or not. susannah marie. 5'8". excellent taste. the sharpest knife in the cutlery drawer. incredibly intelligent, possible genious IQ, has an affinity for playing make-believe and is good at it, i might add. passionate about everything that captures her interest, makes acquaintances quickly, makes friends carefully. phenomenal writer and artist; watching her draw gives me goosebumps that i normally reserve only for certain songs or kisses on the back of my neck. has tremendous insight; not only into other people, but into her own character. could and probably has psychoanalyzed herself on occasion. falls in love twice a day. loyal, maybe to a fault. opinionated but she will hear your argument even though she will inevitably win anyway. estranged from her mother, never met her father, she tends to be hypercritical and an undercurrent of loneliness flows beneath the painted smiles and arched eyebrows. gravitates toward lost causes and hopeless fuckups whose lives end up invariably better just for knowing her. superiorly gifted at writing and articulation, she holds True Love in such high regard and yet seeks out people whom she knows will fall short. is this deliberate? is this the Wounded Bird syndrome? she loves artichoke hearts and california; courtney love and henry rollins, she keeps her friends close and her enemies dead, she can talk a good game, she writes checks her ass CAN cash, shes a poet, shes a rockstar, and she can feel more alone than she has ever felt in her life in a room full of 50 people. shes a dove, shes a fucking nightmare. it takes surprisingly little to make her happy.
i love her.
i am just sick and i need a friend. i just dont want you to hate my husband. he is trying and i love him very much. we both fucked up. i dont want you to think badly of me; i just am confused about a lot of things. i am confused about how you see me. i mean REALLY. i never wanted you to be hurt. i never wanted to see you cry. i am not trying to sound like a saint, or Little Miss Perfect, i just love you so much. i really do. and i know what is going on with me right now is hard to talk about and i know its hard on my mom and dad and husband and you and my mother-in-law and grandparents and cousins and all the way back to the fucking garden of eden for all i know, and yes, i really am sorry. i wish to christ i knew how to make this go away and leave me alone so i could go back to doing what i really want to do with my life instead of sitting here and listening to my head tell me what a bad person i am all the time. i dont want this. i am not proud of this shit. i have constructed a cage for myself and now im like some fuck who has served 50 years of a life sentence and i just got paroled and im scared as hell. i dont know whats outside my box anymore. im institutionalized. i need help. i am sorry that your life is sucking right now, but i dont know. ive been an anorectic/bulimic/cutter/whatever for my entire adult life. everybody has problems. everybody suffers. yeah. i know you have problems too. i am just trying to say i wish i could talk to you about this without worrying in the back of my mind that a couple months down the road youre going to hand me a journal entry to read about how self-centered i am and how much you cant stand me. i just wish i could sit and talk to you without thinking Ok, any minute now shes going to read me something lydia lunch wrote about how weak, pathetic, depressed people will do nothing for you but drag you down into their pit even when you are valiantly trying to save them. im no superstar. but i am not a soul-sucking jerk, either. how do i piss you off? i really want to know.