silent to the bone
when I orgasm I feel incredibly angry.
i love smelling like soap or certain kinds of cologne or perfume or body sprays or aftershave, especially vanilla Body Fantasies (from Wal-Mart) and Cool Water by Davidoff which I would smell like all the time if I could, and Glow by J. Lo (not the Miami/whatever it's called version).
i search the face of every new person that i meet, especially on the internet, for signs of whether i will love him. most people thankfully and unfortunately come up short.
those that don't usually don't end in romance (again, thankfully and unfortunately).
i feel...i don't know whether it's disappointed, angry, hurt, or what... when someone i was once in a relationship with loves someone else and no longer loves me, or at least has moved on from me enough to have a happy relationship with someone else-- even if i hated them and/or am in a happy relationship myself or broke it off myself with them because of whatever reason. i understand why, though; it's simply because it makes me feel that much more expendable. i have no comprehension of people as being capable of liking me if someone else is also in their hearts. i am accustomed to having to, or feeling like i have to, compete for the love, attention, and/or affection of anyone i care about or pretend to care about. sometimes it's because it's the truth. other times i simply see it that way because i'm so used to it.
never is a word i use more often than i mean it.
forever is a word i use even though i can't conceive of it and it frightens me to try.
i hate not knowing something.
nine times out of ten if i am mean to you it is because i am angry at myself. and being mean to you makes me even angrier at myself-- which makes me be even meaner to you for making me angry at myself.
there are so many silly and/or vicious cycles occurring within my head that i feel i must be a geometric phenomenon, a physics conundrum, a whirring whistling whispering plethora of thin circles spinning around one another like those intricate little structures used to attract children with a horizontal circle, a vertical circle and a diagonal one all blurring into a sphere.
amusing, as i hate circles.
Johan infuriates me because I want there to be something to him, something inside him, something about him. There isn't. He is nothing but a shell, a vapid skeletal structure of vain bone and arrogant flesh concealing nothing, revealing nothing. it's similar to looking at the exposed beams-- no, rather, the blueprint-- of a house that was never built because it was pointless to build and wanting so bad for something to come out of that blueprint, some beautiful amazing dream house or museum or whatever to come to life if only you work hard enough and long enough at it, if only you are diligent and don't give up-- but knowing in your head the whole while that it will never amount to anything and you're wasting your time. it is only my desperate fear of giving up, the driving hopeless need to feel something for someone, that keeps me from blotting him out of the universe entirely. i want him to mean something to me. he doesn't. and that pisses me off. and i mean nothing to him and that pisses me off. i've never experienced anything like it. i don't know why i am fighting so hard when i've wanted so long to be able to meet a person as vain as that and not find him attractive, not become obsessed, because it would mean that there is more to my attraction to the people i have loved than superficial gluttony-- and now that i have proven it i seem to want it not to be true. how amusing.
Andrew R. can't be attracted to me because he's the first person I've liked who sees me as a man-- and because he sees me as a man he isn't attracted to me.
I was too...struck by the irony of that to do anything but laugh.
sometimes i remember those words from the song Sam gave me that made me cry into my pillow for a long time. i don't even know any other part of the song. i don't remember anything else but those words and even thinking them now is making me choke.
in the back of my head i am down on my knees praying feverishly, desperately that the second boy ever to love me, and the first who ever touched me where i couldn't hide, was not just a figment of mutual imagination on the part of myself and a beautiful, fucked-up canadian girl.
(if i do not catch myself i find myself whispering "i will do anything if you take me back to the time before i knew. i'm begging you to make it anything but a lie. please don't let it be a lie anymore. please. please, please.")
my prayers fall on deaf bone.
i love smelling like soap or certain kinds of cologne or perfume or body sprays or aftershave, especially vanilla Body Fantasies (from Wal-Mart) and Cool Water by Davidoff which I would smell like all the time if I could, and Glow by J. Lo (not the Miami/whatever it's called version).
i search the face of every new person that i meet, especially on the internet, for signs of whether i will love him. most people thankfully and unfortunately come up short.
those that don't usually don't end in romance (again, thankfully and unfortunately).
i feel...i don't know whether it's disappointed, angry, hurt, or what... when someone i was once in a relationship with loves someone else and no longer loves me, or at least has moved on from me enough to have a happy relationship with someone else-- even if i hated them and/or am in a happy relationship myself or broke it off myself with them because of whatever reason. i understand why, though; it's simply because it makes me feel that much more expendable. i have no comprehension of people as being capable of liking me if someone else is also in their hearts. i am accustomed to having to, or feeling like i have to, compete for the love, attention, and/or affection of anyone i care about or pretend to care about. sometimes it's because it's the truth. other times i simply see it that way because i'm so used to it.
never is a word i use more often than i mean it.
forever is a word i use even though i can't conceive of it and it frightens me to try.
i hate not knowing something.
nine times out of ten if i am mean to you it is because i am angry at myself. and being mean to you makes me even angrier at myself-- which makes me be even meaner to you for making me angry at myself.
there are so many silly and/or vicious cycles occurring within my head that i feel i must be a geometric phenomenon, a physics conundrum, a whirring whistling whispering plethora of thin circles spinning around one another like those intricate little structures used to attract children with a horizontal circle, a vertical circle and a diagonal one all blurring into a sphere.
amusing, as i hate circles.
Johan infuriates me because I want there to be something to him, something inside him, something about him. There isn't. He is nothing but a shell, a vapid skeletal structure of vain bone and arrogant flesh concealing nothing, revealing nothing. it's similar to looking at the exposed beams-- no, rather, the blueprint-- of a house that was never built because it was pointless to build and wanting so bad for something to come out of that blueprint, some beautiful amazing dream house or museum or whatever to come to life if only you work hard enough and long enough at it, if only you are diligent and don't give up-- but knowing in your head the whole while that it will never amount to anything and you're wasting your time. it is only my desperate fear of giving up, the driving hopeless need to feel something for someone, that keeps me from blotting him out of the universe entirely. i want him to mean something to me. he doesn't. and that pisses me off. and i mean nothing to him and that pisses me off. i've never experienced anything like it. i don't know why i am fighting so hard when i've wanted so long to be able to meet a person as vain as that and not find him attractive, not become obsessed, because it would mean that there is more to my attraction to the people i have loved than superficial gluttony-- and now that i have proven it i seem to want it not to be true. how amusing.
Andrew R. can't be attracted to me because he's the first person I've liked who sees me as a man-- and because he sees me as a man he isn't attracted to me.
I was too...struck by the irony of that to do anything but laugh.
sometimes i remember those words from the song Sam gave me that made me cry into my pillow for a long time. i don't even know any other part of the song. i don't remember anything else but those words and even thinking them now is making me choke.
in the back of my head i am down on my knees praying feverishly, desperately that the second boy ever to love me, and the first who ever touched me where i couldn't hide, was not just a figment of mutual imagination on the part of myself and a beautiful, fucked-up canadian girl.
(if i do not catch myself i find myself whispering "i will do anything if you take me back to the time before i knew. i'm begging you to make it anything but a lie. please don't let it be a lie anymore. please. please, please.")
my prayers fall on deaf bone.