February 28, 2009
Some numbers on a day that don't end in Y. Around 276.
Not sure who I'm writing this to. Ruby said I'm supposed to. She also keeps tellin' me you are dead. I keep tellin' her to suck it.
Sometimes she does. Meh.
Today she laughed at me so hard for so long, it delayed her starting in on me for a good 5 minutes. She didn't have her magic knife but she kept insisting that it would have been a good time. She had an audience today, some new freak of nature I haven't met before, and she kept looking at me with this, I don't know, freakin' pity on her face. Not like she was sorry, but like I'm a damn moron, and she was gonna teach me about a piece. Basically, not much different from the bitch we knew.
When they start in on your guts, it's best to think about things that you liked as a kid. Like that set of Lincoln Logs we played with or the time Dad took us fishing. When it's time for an arm or a leg, usually thinking about girls helps. You'd probably cook up some Betty Paige look-alike. I'm talking girls, like Pam Anderson just accidentally dropped the remote -- behind the couch.
There's a few places where it doesn't help to think about anything at all, but I keep tryin' to come up with something. Those times, when the feeling is so strong that you grind your teeth and stop breathing and everything is more like a growl for air, then it feels like you really are a raging animal underneath and they're just trying to free it. Then it's confusing if you don't think.
I wonder most times if they want me to not think and give in to whatever they're doing to me. It maybe hurts more to think about things than it might to think nothing and just blank out. Don't stop remembering.
Not sure who I'm writing this to. Ruby said I'm supposed to. She also keeps tellin' me you are dead. I keep tellin' her to suck it.
Sometimes she does. Meh.
Today she laughed at me so hard for so long, it delayed her starting in on me for a good 5 minutes. She didn't have her magic knife but she kept insisting that it would have been a good time. She had an audience today, some new freak of nature I haven't met before, and she kept looking at me with this, I don't know, freakin' pity on her face. Not like she was sorry, but like I'm a damn moron, and she was gonna teach me about a piece. Basically, not much different from the bitch we knew.
When they start in on your guts, it's best to think about things that you liked as a kid. Like that set of Lincoln Logs we played with or the time Dad took us fishing. When it's time for an arm or a leg, usually thinking about girls helps. You'd probably cook up some Betty Paige look-alike. I'm talking girls, like Pam Anderson just accidentally dropped the remote -- behind the couch.
There's a few places where it doesn't help to think about anything at all, but I keep tryin' to come up with something. Those times, when the feeling is so strong that you grind your teeth and stop breathing and everything is more like a growl for air, then it feels like you really are a raging animal underneath and they're just trying to free it. Then it's confusing if you don't think.
I wonder most times if they want me to not think and give in to whatever they're doing to me. It maybe hurts more to think about things than it might to think nothing and just blank out. Don't stop remembering.