///indulgent rantatronica///
am feeling rather like i have been splathered on toast;
am going to do some splathering of my own now.
free therapy is ending today.
(gawdess bless you jonas batt, and all of your curly-haired intellectual yumminess.)
am now embarking on path of heavy processing and muchly long-overdue internal repairs, solo.
this is a terrifying venture, albeit an exciting one, but terrifying still...
must remember to avoid words like "should" or "always" or "never" as they tend to stunt rather than stimulate.
must keep in forefront of mind that this role i have painted myself into is just that; a role of my own making.
a role i choose to leave behind @ any moment, like the shedding of winter skin, like the shedding of a life that is so last season.
janice, that fabulous faghag who drinks more than she breathes, who is all @ once salient and cutting and bitchy,
yet loyal and dependable and a sassy fighter to the bitter end for her own, well, she will always be here.
but she is all you know of me. and she is tired and full of ennui, so she is exiting the building.
my instinct is information control. my relationships in this bleak cold place are pathologically and sadly one-sided.
(non-sequitur: fuck fuck fucking fuck i miss my friends, 'specially my girls!)
frankly, i am bored to tears hearing about your lives and losses', of small-talk and gossip, of gonads and strife.
truly, it is a nice gesture when you shut the hell up long enough to notice that you know nothing about me
(natch, what i allow you to know)
but don'tcha think i would've divulged my two cents if i craved your attention/ insight,
if i wanted to foster any sort of "friendship" w/ you and your kind?
*ponders*
my new role is still under construction. my new constitution is still being written. wardrobe will probably stay the same.
if i am to dig myself out of this lo-fi depression than hibernation and introspection are the name of the game,
and you superfluous acquaintance, well, it's been fun.
@ least for you.
am going to do some splathering of my own now.
free therapy is ending today.
(gawdess bless you jonas batt, and all of your curly-haired intellectual yumminess.)
am now embarking on path of heavy processing and muchly long-overdue internal repairs, solo.
this is a terrifying venture, albeit an exciting one, but terrifying still...
must remember to avoid words like "should" or "always" or "never" as they tend to stunt rather than stimulate.
must keep in forefront of mind that this role i have painted myself into is just that; a role of my own making.
a role i choose to leave behind @ any moment, like the shedding of winter skin, like the shedding of a life that is so last season.
janice, that fabulous faghag who drinks more than she breathes, who is all @ once salient and cutting and bitchy,
yet loyal and dependable and a sassy fighter to the bitter end for her own, well, she will always be here.
but she is all you know of me. and she is tired and full of ennui, so she is exiting the building.
my instinct is information control. my relationships in this bleak cold place are pathologically and sadly one-sided.
(non-sequitur: fuck fuck fucking fuck i miss my friends, 'specially my girls!)
frankly, i am bored to tears hearing about your lives and losses', of small-talk and gossip, of gonads and strife.
truly, it is a nice gesture when you shut the hell up long enough to notice that you know nothing about me
(natch, what i allow you to know)
but don'tcha think i would've divulged my two cents if i craved your attention/ insight,
if i wanted to foster any sort of "friendship" w/ you and your kind?
*ponders*
my new role is still under construction. my new constitution is still being written. wardrobe will probably stay the same.
if i am to dig myself out of this lo-fi depression than hibernation and introspection are the name of the game,
and you superfluous acquaintance, well, it's been fun.
@ least for you.