(no subject)
last night i had a dream i was being raped.
i was laying down in the street under a blanket and it was real sunny out and two men came up to me and grabbed me by my arms and tried pulling me away, grabbing at me and poking my ribs and i screamed stuart's name but he wasn't there. i woke up and couldn't get back to sleep.
everything today feels broken in some way.
i am falling, i am failing, i am flailing.
flailing my arms because this,
i can't stomach this sometimes.
my belly always aches because i'm missing something or someone or because i try so hard to do well at things and the outcome never reflects my efforts.
i feel like an artist trapped in a world of logic.
i want to remember that 'grades don't matter' but then there's always the rest of the tagline----'but in some ways, they do.' and i can't help but thinking that maybe i'm just fooling myself into another fantasy. maybe i'm just stuck in my head all the time, daydreaming 'cause what else have i got?
let's face it, i'm a daydreamer, i was daydreaming about my birth while in the womb and now i'm daydreaming about my birth after binghamton.
because well,
fuck this place.
fuck the walls and the tiles in the library, fuck the sorority and fraternity banners and fuck people who drink coffee incessantly (like me) and then shit out their insides in the bathroom, shit-farts echoing off the porcelain sinks.
fuck this warm november and grades and professors and expectations and people who are afraid to rant and fuck the smell of shit from the compost (because who replants trees in november, only to kill them with excess salt from melting ice?) and fuck the Atlantic ocean---the distance, and fuck Scotland.
and fuck boys who are too logical, who collapse under an ounce of emotion because their 'brains aren't used to it' and then repay you with affirmations of your illogical nature, irrationality then sends you spiraling down into a pit of self-examination and doubt and anger. ones who shiver and shake when you get angry or upset, instead of grabbing you tight and shaking YOU instead.
god, i just need someone to shake me violently.
someone today told me that love and violence are the same.
i believe him.
i was laying down in the street under a blanket and it was real sunny out and two men came up to me and grabbed me by my arms and tried pulling me away, grabbing at me and poking my ribs and i screamed stuart's name but he wasn't there. i woke up and couldn't get back to sleep.
everything today feels broken in some way.
i am falling, i am failing, i am flailing.
flailing my arms because this,
i can't stomach this sometimes.
my belly always aches because i'm missing something or someone or because i try so hard to do well at things and the outcome never reflects my efforts.
i feel like an artist trapped in a world of logic.
i want to remember that 'grades don't matter' but then there's always the rest of the tagline----'but in some ways, they do.' and i can't help but thinking that maybe i'm just fooling myself into another fantasy. maybe i'm just stuck in my head all the time, daydreaming 'cause what else have i got?
let's face it, i'm a daydreamer, i was daydreaming about my birth while in the womb and now i'm daydreaming about my birth after binghamton.
because well,
fuck this place.
fuck the walls and the tiles in the library, fuck the sorority and fraternity banners and fuck people who drink coffee incessantly (like me) and then shit out their insides in the bathroom, shit-farts echoing off the porcelain sinks.
fuck this warm november and grades and professors and expectations and people who are afraid to rant and fuck the smell of shit from the compost (because who replants trees in november, only to kill them with excess salt from melting ice?) and fuck the Atlantic ocean---the distance, and fuck Scotland.
and fuck boys who are too logical, who collapse under an ounce of emotion because their 'brains aren't used to it' and then repay you with affirmations of your illogical nature, irrationality then sends you spiraling down into a pit of self-examination and doubt and anger. ones who shiver and shake when you get angry or upset, instead of grabbing you tight and shaking YOU instead.
god, i just need someone to shake me violently.
someone today told me that love and violence are the same.
i believe him.