Your love is sad, shooting star...

"...a little less than a happy high,
a little less than a suicide--
the only things that you really tried..."

Every time I reach for that phone-- no matter who I had in mind to call or what I had in mind to say-- I just lose interest. It's been made pretty damn clear to me that it's unwanted, and I'm fine with that. Honestly. So I'm the only one I'll talk to, [CFH]. Anyone else reading this, fuck off and stop bothering me.

And if I really gave a shit, this is what I would say... but I don't. So I'm saying it to me, because it's fun to think of what all those assholes would say if they knew that every batting of my fucking eyelashes that happened to be in their general direction-- was fake, and purely for my own entertainment.

I'm sick of people like you. And I'll never admit it to your face. I used to. I used to be brutally honest, sometimes to the point of being a bitch. And I was a tactful bitch, which might have been the best part. But now, I'll smile an empty smile and ask you how you are, and you'll know that I really don't give half a shit about what you're saying, but there's nothing you can do about it because I'm the epitome of polite.

I know you can see emptiness in my eyes where there was once a burning passion. And no, of course the passion has not died. You just no longer deserve to see even a hint of it. It's too fucking precious to become tainted by the mere thought of your dead eyes looking upon it.

I'm not angry at the world. Honestly, I'm not. I was angry at myself for having expected anything from anyone, but now that I know not to set any kind of expectations, I'm fine with the knowledge that a lack of integrity is all I can hope to get out of any of you fuckers.

There is perhaps one person outside of my immediate family who I would protect by incurring all the fire and wrath of hell upon anyone who tried to fuck with him; other than that, it's just my family. Don't fuck with them. Because if you fuck with them, you're fucking with the entire family. And that will be more pain than you've ever experienced.

The bottom line is, I just don't give a shit anymore. If they don't want to hear it, well, they can be damed certain they'll never again hear anything from me.




This is fun.
I like this.
Let's see which dimwit catches on the quickest.
By then, I'll be long gone...

[If I could make it here, I can make it anywhere.]

We're on our own...

To quote Marcel Proust:

"I put down the cup and examine my own mind. It alone can discover the truth. But how? What an abyss of uncertainty, whenever the mind feels overtaken by itself; when it, the seeker, is at the same time the dark region through which is must go seeking and where all its equipment will avail it nothing. Seek? More than that: create. It is face to face with something which does not yet exist, to which it alone can give reality and substance, which it alone can bring into the light of day."

I'm struggling.
I've officially given up venting.
Again.
At least to other humans.
[This is not for you.]
Pen or keyboard is fine with me.
That's all though.
They don't understand.
It took me so many years to come to terms with my emotions, with this tempest that lies within my psyche.
It took me years to be able to talk to anyone about heavy matters concerning myself.
I could talk endlessly about philosophy, as long as it wasn't mine.
I could debate theoretical physics, as long as the theories were not mine.
I made it a point not to divulge anything about me that would give a hint as to what I was going through emotionally.
I repressed everything.
At 19, I have a bleeding ulcer.
It took me years of therapy, more than 5 therapists, before I was able to talk.
I found friends who said that they would be there for me whenever I needed to talk or vent or cry or vandalize something-- they would be there to help me through all of it.
To listen to me talk or vent.
To dry my tears when I cried.
To vandalize something with me... though I never actually felt compelled to do anything that was considered as such.
It took me years.
Pills, breakdowns, therapy, a god-damned ulcer.
I finally reached the point where I could unabashedly talk [to those very few that I trusted] about my emotions.
And then, when I found the two men I called my guardian angels, they told me that I need to suck it up, that they didn't want to hear me vent anymore, that it wasn't reciprocated, that I was on the verge every other day and they were sick of it.
What happened to "It doesn't matter if you are always a wreck, we are not going anywhere! We will always be here. We will be here in the longest months!"...?
And what happened to "It doesn't fuckin' matter if you have a meltdown every single night. We'll be here to help you through it. We're not going anywhere."...?
In one single conversation, my foundation was rocked so completely that I've fallen back down and I am standing at the base of the mountain.
Again.
I know I need a lot of support right now, but this is a transitional period in my life, and I'm terrified of going through it alone.
They swore to me that I wouldn't have to.
Here I am again, and I have no energy left to make it back to the top.

Elliott Smith said it perfectly.


"Still I send all the time
my request for relief
down this dead power line,
though I'm beyond belief
in the help I require
just to exist at all;
took a long time to stand
took an hour to fall..."

After years of battle, I was at the point where I could talk.
I could vent-- something entirely new.
I could cry.
And now, in one single conversation, the little bit of trust that I had left to give has been completely shattered.
I can no longer vent to other people.
I can no longer show my emotions as openly as I had finally learned to.
I might die from this fucking ulcer, or a heart attack from stress like my father, but I will never again divulge to another human the state of my emotions.
As far as anyone else shall hear or see or think, I am fine.
I'll keep it at a steady low, just like I used to.
Set your expectations low, and never be disappointed.
Or, ever better-- don't set expectations at all.
Fine.
From now on, I'm fine.
That's all they need to know.
Even if it's not true.
I'm scared as hell.
I've never felt so alone.
But the only thing I can do now is
[anything that it takes to survive]
...alone.

Born Ready

If there's one thing that I know,
it's the beauty that surrounds us.
We should be so fortunate
that we have eyes;
we should be so brave
as to open them!
In your voice on the line
I hear a smile and return it;
in your words, in your tone
there is beauty;
I can feel you by my side,
breathing the same air
and sharing my laughter.
I sit by my window and I can hear
the rain falling on the ground outside.
For just a moment, I am free again--
sixteen again--
outside, barefoot in the pouring rain...
You come with me, take my hand--
we are young, we are free, we are b e a u t i f u l...
my body against yours, dancing together
on reflections of light off the water
the water falling from the sky,
the water is falling from our eyes...
I am wrapped up, cozy in my blanket
the warmth of winter,
the heat of snow;
you are sprawled on the floor,
head on your arms
sleeping in peace--
I am thankful for this b e a u t y...
for this time, for your love--
even though now
your love is in the past,
I am thankful for this b e a u t y...
It took me my life to learn--
how to open my eyes
that I am fortunate
that this beauty has always existed
and, undoubtedly,
always will.

Phoenix in Flames

Two angels dressed in black
came to the funeral of my past;
a crowd formed around me,
my broken halo on the ground.
I knelt down by the coffin,
screaming silent, crying-
black feathers falling
from my broken wings.
The spectators watched this
dreadful sight, averted their eyes
to avoid my hateful glare;
they were two steps away
and ready to run...
Anger flooded exhaustion;
exhaustion flooded my veins.
I gave up, limp, abandoned hope
and laid there at their feet.
It was then that these angels--
their black halos tucked away--
lifted me back to my feet
and handed me a match.
Let go, one whispered softly
as the other one took my hand.
Inside I struggled deep and sighed;
lit the match and closed my eyes;
observers fled as the fire spread,
and the ghosts of my pasts
fed the flame.
As the fire drew closer
and we could feel the heat,
we stood,
three winged silhouettes
on the horizon.

Two angels dressed in black
came to the funeral of my past
and all that I had somehow lost
was instantly regained;
love, fire, passion, life;
I was once again in flames.

Cough Syrup

There seems to be a definite bias against artificially-grape-flavored candy. The correlation between grape flavoring and kid's cough syrup baffles me. I don't remember ever having had grape flavored medicine as a child. It was always cherry, and yet I love cherry flavored candy. Grape, however, is in a very close second place. I love bananas, though I despise artificial banana flavoring. I like how Corey says "See you in the a.m." and not "See you in the morning." Valerian Root Extract has done nothing to help me calm down, nor to help curb my insomnia. So I've resorted to eating disgusting taffy candies and ranting through depression about nonsense at 1:30 in the a.m.

Another Goodbye on the List

it's just another goodbye on the list
it's just another friend who will be missed...
the ghosts of my haunted past
raged war against the angels at my door;
they saw what everyone else had seen
and shook their heads in surrender, retreating.
my heart sadly sighed and whispered
that i should listen more closely next time;
for the same words never take on new meaning
and as the battle rages on alone,
the battle must be fought alone.
so i will just mask my tears yet again,
i will smile like this isn't goodbye;
please know that i would have made it,
i could have been who you thought i would be
i just needed a little more time...
but i understand, and i know it--
it's always the same old lines.
it's another friend who i'll always love,
but it's still just another goodbye.

beautiful fuck up

the thoughts that run
through my head
are difficult to follow
it's 3 a.m.
i always lose
i always end up fucking up
it never takes much
for me to come unglued
to get discouraged
to scream and cry;
nothing's changed,
we're still the same,
i don't know what to say
let go!
let go!
my mind is screaming
let go!
my heart just pleads
it never fails
i always lose
i end up fucking up
i saw when i walked in
by the look in his eyes
the toll my existence had taken
how can choices ever be wrong?
how can we be so mistaken?
i'm beautiful
i'm beautiful
i'm just a beautiful fuck up...

diet Pepsi

it's 4 am
it's mutual
his arms around me
send me smiling
and free my mind
but the alarm
is telling us
to get out of bed
it's 7 am
he just left
this pillow has never
ever felt so soft
as when i realized
that this is my LIFE
that i am living!
and sleep came easier
or maybe that was just
the alcohol in me
or maybe
ive finally deprived
myself of enough sleep
but i slept
and alone in my room
i said to myself
you can make it if you try
and i giggled
to the darkness
with the light
fading in from my
window.
and i know that i
am doing the right thing
and i know that my
angels dressed in black
will stand
against anything i
throw at them
because they're not
just doing this for me
they're doing this
for them
and that is why
i know it is right
and i know that
it's fuckin' hard
to find something
as mututal
as incredible
as exuberant
as perfect
as life---!
but yes, my friend
yes! we have found it!
give in
let go
let go!