Another Sleepless Night on Drury Lane: What Am I Thinking?
1.a) I want to be somebody/something else. If I could be a vegetable, I’d want to be a cucumber. Nice soft insides followed by a resonant crunch. Then a nice green skin to keep it all in. no crust, no hard shell, just sanctified goodness.
b) my cat is whack. i wish i had a cat. one that could hack up hairballs on cue, and ride the curtains like a magic carpet. now that, would be awesome.
2. a) I feel really fucking stressed out. Thinking about what I’m going to do after university is definitely not helping. Nor the money situation - or lack there of. That, on top of essays, memorizing lines, smiling through the bullshit. A lot of things don’t make sense to me anymore. Having an existential moment. What is everything we strive for - is tragically out of reach? So that life becomes an obstacle to reach some plateau too tall to touch…you can see just over the top - know what you want to grasp - but it is infinitely unavailable. What’s the point of all this? God must’ve had something to do with it - making desire to succeed a sin, an irrefutable kick in the ass. How do I know that I am following the right path -in debt to the govt., barely enough cash to live off. It seems that life has become a struggle to dispose the intellect and wallet. Only does it become interesting when both have been depleted…leaving the individual with nothing but fear…faint hints, a glimmer of hope that things could’ve been different, could have somehow changed, had never happened at all.
b) solution to $$ problem - people can send me money. there is a choice of services offered: palm reading, tarot card reading, guitar playing and or lessons, vocal lessons, Petrarchan crooning, belly dancing and or just send me money out of the kindness of your heart. ok.
This is where you ask me if I enjoyed myself
Who was there and wore what
Did I manage to say something funny?
Or meet someone interesting?
You always ignore the little things
The crucial moments that make
Existence just a little more bearable
Tip your hat, put the car into gear
Lets rape this driveway and not look back
Just ignore the fact that anything ever happened.
3. So I'm definitely struggling with the ex factor. Someone needs to call me every day and say "you deserve better." or maybe "you need to do what's right for you" - or some other inspirational bullshit mantra. sha, and monkeys could fly outta my butt. oh well. i wrote this letter today, fucking letters. (I am never going to it to send him. But I think that some of this describes my emotional overflow that is going on right now. Stupid boys. Throw rocks at them… I’m pissed off that someone could have so much control over me, to ultimately fuck up my happiness.)
Dear (insert your name here):
I can’t listen to Leonard Cohen anymore. It reminds me of you. Somehow Famous Blue Raincoat symbolizes all our issues and problems we could never figure out. I miss you. I don’t want to die alone. I think that would be terrible.
Waves of sorrow drown out every other motion towards feeling. I hate what you’ve done to me. I hate these stupid blue mittens you gave me, I want to wrap them around your neck(even though he didnt give me mittens. where the hell did that come from... oh well, if i had mittens on a string, they would be around his neck). I want to yell and scream and expose my vulnerability, let the world know that you penetrated my shell and then pissed inside of it. What a typical thing for a man to do. I am not surprised by your lack of interest. It just goes to show how you didn’t care in the first place.
I want me back. I want the ME that you took away. I want to be flamboyant, proud, outspoken, I want to be the ME that you met. The girl who wouldn’t take no for an answer. I want that sense of ingenuity and curiosity back. I want to stop feeling sorry for myself, that I couldn’t make it with someone who I thought was special. I want to stop thinking about you, stop writing about you, and stop caring about you. Friendship, that’s bullshit. I want to get back to me. No one can take me there. I want to go back to where I came from. Before man touched me. Before anyone touched me. Before anyone even saw me. I want to go back there.
I could not possibly tell you how
Nor would I be able to suggest
The errors of age, the
Ignorance of not knowing
That comes so easily to you now.