oh, my heart

and how many ways can a person say she is sorry for something she didn't know she was doing?
why must making it to tomorrow always be so frightening?


addendum: fifteen-year-olds are cruel and not worth my time. pay attention?

again: unless they apologize. so done.

hey, idiot

leave the boys alone.



but then again, i always refuse to listen to my own good advice.

tears

finally. four years.

and back to beginnings.
Thanks to Prashanth. I like thanking people. It gives life meaning.

transference

Oh, please. May I keep this one?

current litany: i don't care it doesn't matter makes no difference
take your pick.
i have ache.

help

i need somebody

but they all tell me.
that is the good part.

yes.

doses of melancholia

why do i only want things when they're gone?

venus undone

Every signal I send is wrong. I am afraid again, afraid, and i cannot tell what will happen except that i will be unhappy, and that's surely no surprise? none of them will care if i make an appearance or no, and if even one did i might feel less forgotten, is it my fate to be forgotten? i cannot bear it i cannot and i do it with a regularity and dedication that surprises, the pushing away; i will go about it as systematically as war, because of course it is war only i am my only enemy and i will drive them away every one until i'm all alone again. if there were a single person who could call me on it i would cry, i would try, i would die and not be so miserable, perhaps. am i so hard to read? predictable perhaps i am but the one who would call me on it i do not care about i do not care now but tomorrow i will cry when he forgets because that is all my life is about it's the regrets and that's why i will always be an idiot and die in despair. define despair? it is the state i am in every time i stop forcing myself to see the world in pretty hues.
the funny thing is i am all those things, happy and unhappy and friendly and churlish and it never depends on me, only the person drawing me out; but they still will not see because who gives a shit about me anyway not one of them not one though i would give anything to go back to the beginning and undo the whole thing it was bad enough with the real live people i cannot bear to have every virtual relationship travel the same path, no.
and i will write here these stupid words crying out for attention like little starving babies with big bellies, and i will still tell no one and continue to go to bed with heart heavy and weary and weeping.
And the ones i want to have asking about me have all gone, gone; gone away and forgotten and i cannot understand why i have to still hang on except perhaps that they cannot leave and will not and my head is a cruel and cold place to be right now.
i want a chest i can bury my face in and never step away from, only i am not ready for love or anything approaching, and i am baby still; naïve, stupid, insensitive.
why have you forsaken me?

why

some people are so happy young.
i'll take some of that, please.

compulsions

i wish i didn't always need to have conversations end well, and i wish i didn't feel the need to go back and fix up messed up dialogue so it all sits pretty in the memory but then again what else is there about conversations but the perfection of them? i wish i didn't obsess about words said and not said and unsaid into dark dreary nights till i feel the ache in the pit of my stomach and wonder what the other person is thinking because i cannot see inside their head though i would give anything to be able to. and i wish i didn't always need to have the other see exactly what i mean when i say anything, wish i could let things stand and lie and flop about like little fish on the carpet and let them think what they want to think because it should make no difference, only it always does, always. and i hope the new ones will ease the messes.

obscenity!!!

the irony is not funny any more.
please stop.
i can't afford it on no pay.

so what would i be

without the pain?

all i ever wanted

And I'm sorry I was so blind, but I'm glad I was wrong.
Isn't that what the relief means?
But I have lost the wisdom I had before; lost my safety and my walls; forgotten lessons I learnt so early (say nothing tell no one hush yo' mouth it's not for them to know only you only you)
And from unexpected quarters I get my boosts
"you are nice and special...such a wonderful ability to make friends and get people to like you... cute eyes... wonderful writing skills"
Nice words will always make me cry
I told them all I was shy
And got only big eyes as reply
Do I hide it so well, or is it me I'm fooling?

as best I could
in my own fashion
in spite of myself

And once the trust goes, there is nothing, nothing, only accusations and doubt and give the dog a bad name and hang him.
underdog undertow
And I am so tempted. This is how the guilt wears you down, a little at a time, a little less each time, till there is only relief in the breaking.
And it's easy to stray; easy.
Throw caution to the winds and betray betray betray. Once the name is mud what use is trying, anyway?

P.S. on a Sunday. I'm regretting. Is that good or bad?

what wouldn't i give

lots, i think.
i'm undeniably tempted. is that wrong? it was. now it's better.
i fume. i wish i could grab a few people and give them really splendid shakes. i'm so hurt. you stupid insensitive self-centred blind-mule males.