remember that time long ago?
there was a day between you and me when you told me you would be there for me when some boy stomped my heart and i broke into a million pieces. it seems that boy has turned to boys very rapidly and you'd need a microscope to see any given piece of what is left of me. some things are just so hard to accept, but really sitting here listening to the toccata and fuge doesn't help. fun side note: i have what amount to discociative fuges when i drink a lot (like half a bottle of vodka and several uncounted glasses of cheap wine) and always do two things, have sex and ruin my life in as many ways as possible. but i don't really feel that all of that is so important. it's that everyday that i think of something new it is something that i know cannot involve you. and i know that you are fine with that, but i am not sure that i am. this makes me the needy one, the crazy one, the one that needs therapy, the one that needs work, but it makes me the sad one. there are some parts of the past that i don't want to let go of; there are other parts that i would throw and watch sail outside the realm of existence at the end of the universe. i just live on those little relics, those phrases that echo around the inside of my head that let me keep going. feeling ok is not so easy to do, but i am much better at faking it. most of the time i am confused with the insane foil of inside vs. outside. why do i feel like such shit when i am nothing more than happy, pleasant, and cheerful on the outside? i suppose that some of the recent explosions weren't so chipper, but they were also months overdue.
in more recent news, i have been put in my place in so many ways. well, for one i was passed off sexually so that someone could a slightly easier night. the guy i slept with only did it because i was the best solution to a bad situation. it's fun to have text messages thrown in my face saying, yeah i really wish i could have slept with you instead, but i'm big slut so i just took whatever. i am always that number next to last (which i normally think of as no.2). i can't quite explain it. it's a feeling of knowing that i will never physically be what anyone wants for the merit of itself. i suppose it could be flattering to always the best choice of out 'those' options, but it doesn't satisfy. i am hardly alone in being that person to talk about being used, about feeling so used up and so worthless afterward, but it doesn't make it any easier for any of us to move on. it doesn't make any of us feel worth anything or that its ok because it is so normal. bah. i can be honest enough to say that i could care less about all those raped and almost-raped tori amoses (some of that was a reference that no one reading this would ever know). that's really untrue, i mean i care about raped people, but what i should insert there are people who always go back for that lay that will make them want to kill themself. that's them and i am me. and until i get my way there is a huge gap between those two entitites. it's just that i get so annoyed by the idea that no matter what i do, or have done at least, amounts for shit.
i just want someone to honor what the fuck they said. i want you to come and help me. i want someone to take me away for a day or two. i want to sit on a beach and feel existence and not feel the oily film that rides on it all. i want to be so removed that it doesn't matter that back there hell pushes ever onward. i just want to pretend that a little of that love is still there and i can bask in it for a day if nothing else. when i called you that night that was my question that i wanted to ask. "if i were to call you and ask you to drop everything and come and help me right now, would you? but not in such subjunctive terms.. will you get in your car and come and take me away from here for the weekend? (i will pay for it all of course)" but as i said, i know the answer. you would say no. and i don't want to hear that. maybe i need to, then i can stop pretending that you might say yes. but i don't think, even if you said no, that i would lose that hope.
i got lazy. i stopped swimming with the current and as a result i was very quickly pulled down the bottom where i began to drown. i think i decided that i was annoyed enough with that and have since inflated my life raft. we are in negotiations to salvage my academic career. i am trying to dent the mountain of work that i have simply not done. i did laundry today, which was a miracle.
oh. and on a note that only i (and maybe kristin) will get, my sense of smell has been wrong for several days and i was terrified out of my mind. i manage to work myself out of a migraine, but my nose goes crazy the next day. i have been smelling fransisco for weeks. and that annoys me. and last night i laid down in my had-sex-in bed and all i could smell was comfort. and that is terrifying to me. as alan said i do have that love of holding my black heart out there just so i can stab it with that knife before i put it back in. maybe that's it, my body is forcibly trying to make me take a soma holiday. or less drastically, just have one of those real breakdowns where you have to stop and reset. or maybe, there are so many things that i don't know. but i trust myself in a few areas, my sense of smell being one. apparently i am a blood hound now, but i'm ok with that if it's true.
all i can say is that i need something and i think it is you. i understand from a large part of me if that is not an option for you, but there will always be that bit that says why? how?
please, please, please. just say something to me. no. yes. something in the middle. no with an explanation. or even just, i did this one favor and read your lunatic posting. but something. it eats me alive when i get the zero response. and it's all i've gotten of late and i would hope you wouldn't do that to me.. and in less nagging and guilty news, i hope that you are being as great as you always are. i hope you have your copy of XII (if you want it). i hope that you get to go home to a happy place soon for thanksgiving. i hope you are happy. oh, and i plan on getting my first tattoo very soon. don't think this too crazy, but i pushed back my full back seal of the seraphim for two words in a pair on my shoulders: Kat and Ban. now before you shudder and call the judge to get that restraining order, its a metaphor and its not supposed to be creepy. it's important to me. oh, and keep writing that book! you always told me to make sure that you were still writing. well i still hope you do everyday.
in more recent news, i have been put in my place in so many ways. well, for one i was passed off sexually so that someone could a slightly easier night. the guy i slept with only did it because i was the best solution to a bad situation. it's fun to have text messages thrown in my face saying, yeah i really wish i could have slept with you instead, but i'm big slut so i just took whatever. i am always that number next to last (which i normally think of as no.2). i can't quite explain it. it's a feeling of knowing that i will never physically be what anyone wants for the merit of itself. i suppose it could be flattering to always the best choice of out 'those' options, but it doesn't satisfy. i am hardly alone in being that person to talk about being used, about feeling so used up and so worthless afterward, but it doesn't make it any easier for any of us to move on. it doesn't make any of us feel worth anything or that its ok because it is so normal. bah. i can be honest enough to say that i could care less about all those raped and almost-raped tori amoses (some of that was a reference that no one reading this would ever know). that's really untrue, i mean i care about raped people, but what i should insert there are people who always go back for that lay that will make them want to kill themself. that's them and i am me. and until i get my way there is a huge gap between those two entitites. it's just that i get so annoyed by the idea that no matter what i do, or have done at least, amounts for shit.
i just want someone to honor what the fuck they said. i want you to come and help me. i want someone to take me away for a day or two. i want to sit on a beach and feel existence and not feel the oily film that rides on it all. i want to be so removed that it doesn't matter that back there hell pushes ever onward. i just want to pretend that a little of that love is still there and i can bask in it for a day if nothing else. when i called you that night that was my question that i wanted to ask. "if i were to call you and ask you to drop everything and come and help me right now, would you? but not in such subjunctive terms.. will you get in your car and come and take me away from here for the weekend? (i will pay for it all of course)" but as i said, i know the answer. you would say no. and i don't want to hear that. maybe i need to, then i can stop pretending that you might say yes. but i don't think, even if you said no, that i would lose that hope.
i got lazy. i stopped swimming with the current and as a result i was very quickly pulled down the bottom where i began to drown. i think i decided that i was annoyed enough with that and have since inflated my life raft. we are in negotiations to salvage my academic career. i am trying to dent the mountain of work that i have simply not done. i did laundry today, which was a miracle.
oh. and on a note that only i (and maybe kristin) will get, my sense of smell has been wrong for several days and i was terrified out of my mind. i manage to work myself out of a migraine, but my nose goes crazy the next day. i have been smelling fransisco for weeks. and that annoys me. and last night i laid down in my had-sex-in bed and all i could smell was comfort. and that is terrifying to me. as alan said i do have that love of holding my black heart out there just so i can stab it with that knife before i put it back in. maybe that's it, my body is forcibly trying to make me take a soma holiday. or less drastically, just have one of those real breakdowns where you have to stop and reset. or maybe, there are so many things that i don't know. but i trust myself in a few areas, my sense of smell being one. apparently i am a blood hound now, but i'm ok with that if it's true.
all i can say is that i need something and i think it is you. i understand from a large part of me if that is not an option for you, but there will always be that bit that says why? how?
please, please, please. just say something to me. no. yes. something in the middle. no with an explanation. or even just, i did this one favor and read your lunatic posting. but something. it eats me alive when i get the zero response. and it's all i've gotten of late and i would hope you wouldn't do that to me.. and in less nagging and guilty news, i hope that you are being as great as you always are. i hope you have your copy of XII (if you want it). i hope that you get to go home to a happy place soon for thanksgiving. i hope you are happy. oh, and i plan on getting my first tattoo very soon. don't think this too crazy, but i pushed back my full back seal of the seraphim for two words in a pair on my shoulders: Kat and Ban. now before you shudder and call the judge to get that restraining order, its a metaphor and its not supposed to be creepy. it's important to me. oh, and keep writing that book! you always told me to make sure that you were still writing. well i still hope you do everyday.