deceit and deception

old and almost-forgotten hurts make their presence felt. the bile churns as of old. 16-18-21, a night out with the girls. grandmother's hand clenched on an iron grill. do i care? apparently. why, though? why? i cannot fathom. ah, timing. (7:24 a.m. nefarious child out on her night of debauchery) i can't stop the stupidity. i've forgotten what this post was supposed to be about. i remember it having the pain. and then there's the new pain. and the compliments. compliments are losing their power. am i vain? how stupid, on a scale of one to ten? 16-18-21, a pretty phrase; i'll repeat it till i feel better. driving in the dark. dancing in smoke. i like him. i said it. don't think it's a pass, he said. how we dance, to be sure.
how easy to pretend. why is it? easy to pretend nothing is ever wrong. easy to pretend the things i guess are all active imagination. defense mechanism, coping mechanism, human protective coating. why does she avoid me? and i feel so much and guess so much, and i believe none of it because i may be wrong. but now i think that the reason i don't believe is because i may be right. and when you're right it hurts and hurts. too much pain. i want to be . it would help, i think. so many parts to a person. won't you stop and ask me what's wrong?

nick drake gives me the whim-whams, and kate rusby the breaking insides. i want to be kissed. the butterscotch tuberoses. i am jealous of all the people who have it. i must keep the faith, london bridge. the friends will help. so will family. one less bothers me. i am glad it does. it's just her, just her. i don't want to admit it. why? because it is hard to admit you care. when it's true, it's hard. i wish i hadn't been right. i often wish that. strange, it all seems. clairvoyance, or just plain sensible foresight? my heart squeezed and my lips heavy, heavy.

do i make things happen by believing?