Wednesday, December 27, 2006

not letters

I have begun to hate letters, and then I return here, to the blue, because this is where I used to be able to say the things I was too afraid to say elsewhere. And here I can say things that sound like bitching because they are; bitchy bitchy aieee i just bethought me of that song, sigh, and now a little smile has come and what's the frigging point of trying to spew if i keep turning around and amusing myself? and they don't listen, not one of them listens, and i want to scream it, you don't listen, you don't understand, only that comes back to me, to me, immaturity again, but they still don't see the words, they still try to find a way around the words, why would i use them if i didn't mean them, but then that's a wrong question, because of course i only mean them in that moment and after that they're lost and nonsense and gone and boys are the worst. i hate them. and i will return your present, i should never have taken it, no present is worth having to be convinced that it is a nice present and even as i took it i felt it was an afterthought, and i can't accept it; thank you but no thank you; i will keep the postcard but not the perfume, thank you but no thank you; only how will i give it back? i must i must, only how? and other presents across the sea and i don't want them either because here comes the déjà vu, and nothing so much as other books with scrawled messages, and i don't want an end like that and i wish i'd never known because surprises are better always better because only surprises cannot end in disapointment and none of you get it because you don't listen, you never listen. and i tell you and tell you and try to tell you, and all of you only hear what you want to hear, every last one of you, and i see why people have girl friends.
and the blue is not a message, and it isn't meant to be a message, it isn't for you to come here and read all i have written and try to find in my rambling something that fits you because this is for me, for me, and if it refers to you as it may do, it's still not for you because
were you invited, i think not, and don't assume unless you were. don't assume but always ask, because people like me need to be asked before they tell, i won't volunteer, and none of you hear that, though i shout it till my face is blue, i won't tell you if you don't ask unless it is something cruel and mean and bitchy, then i'll tell you because the words are so much easier then. easier easier like now see the words come tripping out and i don't even have to think twice because i am all those things, see? selfish and cruel. it's a lot more fun than sensitive.
and this time it has been a message, more than most, it has, i feel it, there is a something i want the three of you to see here. and perhaps four, but she knew all this anyway and probably better than me.
and i feel decidedly better. not enough, not enough; but better, noticeably, appreciably, actually.

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

temper tantrums

When do I get to grow up?


If you want to know, ask me.
Exasperation abounds.
It bodes not well for you.

This one is specific, see?

Monday, December 25, 2006

overeating the mushroom danishes

It's a very simple pattern, once you've seen it.
I wish I didn't stick to it so determinedly, is all.
And I wish people weren't so easy to hurt.
It's Christmas and I just want to spend it crying. How much fun is that?
As much fun as driving lost. In the afternoon. With eyes burning. And the sister moaning in the passenger seat.
No, I lie. It's worse.
I'm not happy.

I want people to ask me about it.
Why doesn't anyone ever? Does no one care?

Sunday, December 24, 2006


stars dangle from my ears, and i avoid, and avoid, and avoid.
and wait and wait and wait.
patience. not so hard.

other worries.
gumption? just as hard as ever.
*sigh* will i manage it?
i fear i won't be able to. pride will not allow.
i want a fever.

or even a TATOO.
why, you bad girl.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

not quite fiction

I dreamt of you last night, and it was not a pleasant dream.
I dreamt of you, and I remembered much that I had not known I had forgotten.
I dreamt of you, and it was a dream that might have happened, all those years past; a dream where we all behaved as we were used to behave; where you were everything you were, and I was everything I was, or as little.
I dreamt you did as you always did; tore my dreams to shreds; drove my confidence to tears; belittled, befuddled, betrayed. I dreamt I did as I always did; let you do it all, uncomplainingly.
And I dreamt I ran home to my loneliness; and found succour in imaginary worlds, and comfort inside my own head, as I do even now.
Perhaps if I had been made of sterner stuff, I would have found in the ridicule some strength to carry me through; but all I got from you were doubt and insecurity, and an idea that I was unworthy of anyone's affection, attention, respect.

Last night I found something I'd once written; crude, unpolished, arrogant. Confident. And I wondered, Why, where did I go?
Last night I dreamt of you - you cruel coward; you bully; you condescending, insensitive, foul-mouthed excuse for a human being.
I was a miserable child in school, I tell people. I'd forgotten exactly how miserable I was.
And you were a reason. About time I acknowledged it.

Friday, December 22, 2006

well. *i* thought it was funny.

You begin to bore, dear.
You begin to boar, deer.

Oh dear. Now I feel like smiling.
How can words always manage to make everything better?

So, listen. Everything is not cryptic.
No, really.
Are you listening?

Thursday, December 21, 2006


I want to be somebody's first love.


Some people are just so right to hug.

didn't like the last post

and i'm tired of feeling inadequate.
where is it?
where is mine?

tell me again.

d'you hear?
tell. me. again.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006


I think the smartest plan is to go celibate.
Or become a paid escort.
My head is not happy with me.

Friday, December 15, 2006


And I foresee only heartache.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

road tripping

I worry that I will spend the three days on an outside. I worry that I will end up being a hanger-on, a burden, an also-ran. I worry that I will be stupid and boring and annoying. I worry that I will bring everybody down. I worry that I will have nothing to say, and nothing to add, and no purpose there at all. I worry that I will come away from this weekend with bile in my mouth and salt water in my eyes.
New friends are so hard on the nerves.

I am terrified by how much I want this. And freaked out at how terrified I am.
I worry about the vibes.
Will I be okay?

Adventures. They should be worth the risk, no?

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

two weeks noticed

Mediocrity is its own punishment.
I'm sorry. I had to go.

Perhaps it's better. I'm not a nice person to be around right now.

Friday, December 8, 2006


And it was planned three whole insane weeks ago!
aarghaarghaargh you enormous moron, you.


Sunday, December 3, 2006

so is it me, or isn't it?

exactly the same thing again.
which means what?
i don't even want to try figuring it out.
when will i?

fucking hate it.

and i wish i'd never started writing.

Saturday, December 2, 2006

points of pride

Everything I was afraid of, and I did better than I expected.
In the midst of unexpected surprises I find out I'm stronger than in my dreams.

After all it is wonderful to exceed expectations. And when they're your own, you're both sides. Almost suffocating.