beginning realities and hallucinations untangled locally (5)
wicked!
but i <3 pushing daisies.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
identities
"Oh, no", they say. "Oh, no"
And "Still?"
And "I think you need some help"
And "But he is a-"
i wish i knew for sure if it was all in my head. it would help if i knew. have i said this before? maybe not as unemotionally. (aoccsionion. i wish i could have told you.) i want to know that my little secret feeling that you were not entirely indifferent to me was not my imagination. and you may say, what does it matter now (and by now you mean now that it's over and you are nothing more to me than somebody i once used to know) the way you said it about the book you promised me and that i will never receive the way all other promises that everybody else made fell by the wayside; you will probably not understand it, but it does matter, it does. it matters because knowing will mean the difference between real and imaginary and stupid and crazy and this time and next time.
It is such a little thing, the truth. And for all you have said, you have refused me that little thing. Are you not one of the people who "recognize that honesty may bring pain, but lack of honesty will cut even deeper."?
I quote you at yourself as if it will make you listen. I don't know. Perhaps it is just to prove to myself that I have been listening. I always listened. I always did. Perhaps that was the reason why I heard things that...weren't apparent. Now all I need is to know that they weren't true.
It would be such a huge thing, such a little thing. A moment of discomfort to give a fellow creature some comfort. A pain to lessen another's pain. In honour of the things that went before, and if there ever was a day when you were happier because I was around.
Could you not do that much for me?
And "Still?"
And "I think you need some help"
And "But he is a-"
i wish i knew for sure if it was all in my head. it would help if i knew. have i said this before? maybe not as unemotionally. (aoccsionion. i wish i could have told you.) i want to know that my little secret feeling that you were not entirely indifferent to me was not my imagination. and you may say, what does it matter now (and by now you mean now that it's over and you are nothing more to me than somebody i once used to know) the way you said it about the book you promised me and that i will never receive the way all other promises that everybody else made fell by the wayside; you will probably not understand it, but it does matter, it does. it matters because knowing will mean the difference between real and imaginary and stupid and crazy and this time and next time.
It is such a little thing, the truth. And for all you have said, you have refused me that little thing. Are you not one of the people who "recognize that honesty may bring pain, but lack of honesty will cut even deeper."?
I quote you at yourself as if it will make you listen. I don't know. Perhaps it is just to prove to myself that I have been listening. I always listened. I always did. Perhaps that was the reason why I heard things that...weren't apparent. Now all I need is to know that they weren't true.
It would be such a huge thing, such a little thing. A moment of discomfort to give a fellow creature some comfort. A pain to lessen another's pain. In honour of the things that went before, and if there ever was a day when you were happier because I was around.
Could you not do that much for me?
Saturday, November 22, 2008
crosses
i don't question the words that come unbidden, because if i do it might mean they will stop coming entirely and then i would die. the perversity of birthdays is getting to me. that, and the missing anniversaries. why should i care? every day is the same. i do not want every day to be the same. just as i do not want every person to be the same, and i don't want to be the same and everything the same the same my god stop it.
i am not crazy. i am sad. i am deranged. i am displaced. i do not belong. in my own head.
it gets more and more tiresome each day to think of things positively. i begin to read those books again, the ones about honour bright and meaningful moments and why must days be productive as well as happy? they could be both and that would be excellent, and they might be either and it would be bearable, but when they are neither the world seems very bleak and disgusting and one ends up thinking of the people who were around when it was different.
why do i care? why do you care? i dreamed it in a word when i was walking along hospital corridors on my birthday and wishing someone had cared and they asked me, why do you care? and is it important? and what difference does it make? and they all say, why do you care if nobody wishes you on your birthday and i say i do not know, i do not know why i care, i only know that i do because it hurts me so.
i am lonely. it has been a long time since i was lonely; i did not recognize the signs until it was quite far gone. the one-with-his-name says i pursue friendships with aggression, but he doesn't know how much i need it and that i would be prepared to beg for it if i didn't know that begging only brings you disdain and despisal (do you remember wondering about this word?) and the very empty evenings. he says i loathe myself. so did the one-with-his-name. did i wonder about this already? i forget the things i have said and the things i have thought, and my mind cannot tell the difference between what is real and what isn't. and there i wish i had said is not, because it was the phrase i had thought of first, but then the rhyme hit me in the back of the head and tasted like sewers smell so i think i will let it go for now.
i do not have enough to give.
i miss him so. i am ashamed to admit it, as though i were confessing some dire fault that i would rather keep hidden from the world. "narcissistic self-loathing" and i worry that i listen to other people's opinions of myself too much but then i always worry i always worry. i want to say i worried less when he was around and i did perhaps i did for a while a very little while when i was certain he didn't know how i felt about him and how much.
i need somebody to come along and take all my troubles away and is it odd that i would rather be crazy or stupid or depressed than admit that i am lazy and a coward. i say it sometimes, lazy, and other people parrot it back to me with strange pride, as though to be lazy were something one could only be after years of trying.
i worry about the wishes i wake up to. i am afraid of how hard i will fall. i was afraid before; i remember i was afraid before; i remember thinking about falling and writing about falling and something about woods and forests and paths that look the same and are different or look different and are the same and i don't remember who it was i was writing about no i tell a lie i remember who the woods were about but i cannot for the life of me remember the first two times boys broke promises.
why must i always remember the things people promise? like the dancing on my birthday and the visiting on my birthday and the letters from an uncle and . but i will not write it because then i will remember how much i wanted it and perhaps i will cry again. i wonder that i still have the moisture left to cry as much as i do; i do not drink enough water.
perhaps i am miserable not because i have hope but because i don't - perhaps it is that despair that is born out of hopelessness; the knowledge that all the boats are burned and the bridges are burned and all the eggs broken.
i am tired of being lonely. get up! get out! get away! get some! but the effort is not worth it with no guarantees, and i am not over him yet not over him and now i am thinking about him thinking about how stupid i am, and how young, and how stupid, and thinking he knows he knows how i feel and he knows what will make it better oh you fool me fool both fools and why did you have to push me and push me and push me.
Maybe it is a lie. a lie. my life is a lie i am a lie i am. perhaps i should warn people i meet that if they spend more than a day around me and are kind to me without my asking that i will love them because it is rare to find kindness. maybe.
i am so tired of being lonely.
i am not crazy. i am sad. i am deranged. i am displaced. i do not belong. in my own head.
it gets more and more tiresome each day to think of things positively. i begin to read those books again, the ones about honour bright and meaningful moments and why must days be productive as well as happy? they could be both and that would be excellent, and they might be either and it would be bearable, but when they are neither the world seems very bleak and disgusting and one ends up thinking of the people who were around when it was different.
why do i care? why do you care? i dreamed it in a word when i was walking along hospital corridors on my birthday and wishing someone had cared and they asked me, why do you care? and is it important? and what difference does it make? and they all say, why do you care if nobody wishes you on your birthday and i say i do not know, i do not know why i care, i only know that i do because it hurts me so.
i am lonely. it has been a long time since i was lonely; i did not recognize the signs until it was quite far gone. the one-with-his-name says i pursue friendships with aggression, but he doesn't know how much i need it and that i would be prepared to beg for it if i didn't know that begging only brings you disdain and despisal (do you remember wondering about this word?) and the very empty evenings. he says i loathe myself. so did the one-with-his-name. did i wonder about this already? i forget the things i have said and the things i have thought, and my mind cannot tell the difference between what is real and what isn't. and there i wish i had said is not, because it was the phrase i had thought of first, but then the rhyme hit me in the back of the head and tasted like sewers smell so i think i will let it go for now.
i do not have enough to give.
i miss him so. i am ashamed to admit it, as though i were confessing some dire fault that i would rather keep hidden from the world. "narcissistic self-loathing" and i worry that i listen to other people's opinions of myself too much but then i always worry i always worry. i want to say i worried less when he was around and i did perhaps i did for a while a very little while when i was certain he didn't know how i felt about him and how much.
i need somebody to come along and take all my troubles away and is it odd that i would rather be crazy or stupid or depressed than admit that i am lazy and a coward. i say it sometimes, lazy, and other people parrot it back to me with strange pride, as though to be lazy were something one could only be after years of trying.
i worry about the wishes i wake up to. i am afraid of how hard i will fall. i was afraid before; i remember i was afraid before; i remember thinking about falling and writing about falling and something about woods and forests and paths that look the same and are different or look different and are the same and i don't remember who it was i was writing about no i tell a lie i remember who the woods were about but i cannot for the life of me remember the first two times boys broke promises.
why must i always remember the things people promise? like the dancing on my birthday and the visiting on my birthday and the letters from an uncle and . but i will not write it because then i will remember how much i wanted it and perhaps i will cry again. i wonder that i still have the moisture left to cry as much as i do; i do not drink enough water.
perhaps i am miserable not because i have hope but because i don't - perhaps it is that despair that is born out of hopelessness; the knowledge that all the boats are burned and the bridges are burned and all the eggs broken.
i am tired of being lonely. get up! get out! get away! get some! but the effort is not worth it with no guarantees, and i am not over him yet not over him and now i am thinking about him thinking about how stupid i am, and how young, and how stupid, and thinking he knows he knows how i feel and he knows what will make it better oh you fool me fool both fools and why did you have to push me and push me and push me.
Maybe it is a lie. a lie. my life is a lie i am a lie i am. perhaps i should warn people i meet that if they spend more than a day around me and are kind to me without my asking that i will love them because it is rare to find kindness. maybe.
i am so tired of being lonely.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
24/7
It is a week to my birthday, and I realize that I have written here sixteen times. Sixteen. When all the nonsense I've been through should have had me writing here two times a day. Sad, sad truth!
This is what happens when someone reads your blog and you know they do.
Still.
Birthday! Presents!
Yay!
:)
This is what happens when someone reads your blog and you know they do.
Still.
Birthday! Presents!
Yay!
:)
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
borrowed wishes
So who's to worry if our hearts get torn
When that hurt gets thrown
Don't you know this life goes on
And won't you kiss me
On that midnight street
Sweep me off my feet
Singing ain't this life so sweet
When that hurt gets thrown
Don't you know this life goes on
And won't you kiss me
On that midnight street
Sweep me off my feet
Singing ain't this life so sweet
Friday, October 24, 2008
erring blindly
It is painful to be on the outside all of the time. It hurts worse because I remember a time when I thought I wasn't.
Unhappy people are so dull, my dear, so dull. I will spin in the rain until my heart bursts out of my chest and flies away where I cannot find it.
Unhappy people are so dull, my dear, so dull. I will spin in the rain until my heart bursts out of my chest and flies away where I cannot find it.
Monday, October 13, 2008
yell me a sigh
Good Lord, the disappointments!
...
I forget why I wrote that. Possibly it was done at a time when I could not keep my mind on anything long enough to write about it.
I am in love. How tragic that feels! Under different circumstances, etc etc.
You are in love, enfin!
You see, it is not that I think I am in love.
I did not think I was in love
I have spent much time and energy; I been through the entire range of possibilities.
I think. I wish. I hope. I have- convinced myself fooled myself tricked myself into imagining pretending believing...
Sigh, how very lowering to be exactly the same as everyone else! It would not, perhaps, be quite as unpalatable if I were exactly the same as everyone else for whom this has worked out. In a way, that's lowering too. :)
I ask myself what it is that I love. What can I say? I cannot say, he is smart, and funny, and interesting, and enjoyable. (oh, but he is all those things) I cannot say, he likes things I do; he lislikes the things I don't. (it isn't always true) I cannot say, I love the way he plays the violin in the morning. (perhaps because we all know there is no violin)
I can say only that time spent talking to him makes me happier than I was.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
all the worst advice in the world
therapy.
seriously?
and would i consider this?
how much of what i said was the truth? not the truth as i see it; it was all that - but the truth as it is. the truth alone by itself entirely. if i were to remove it from all the conversations i've had with all the people i've had them with, what would remain that was true? was it always this complicated?
infatuation.
this word, i roll it around in my head, and taste the shape of it, and i wonder - is that true? is it a true word, is it a whole word, is it what i have been reduced to? am i infatuated? addicted? obsessed? to the exclusion of all else? from the outside it might seem that way, but surely the outside is the only place to look from if you want any perspective at all...
question - how does one tell if happy is wrong?
by going to therapy?
good lord, that is a horrible thought.
seriously?
and would i consider this?
how much of what i said was the truth? not the truth as i see it; it was all that - but the truth as it is. the truth alone by itself entirely. if i were to remove it from all the conversations i've had with all the people i've had them with, what would remain that was true? was it always this complicated?
infatuation.
this word, i roll it around in my head, and taste the shape of it, and i wonder - is that true? is it a true word, is it a whole word, is it what i have been reduced to? am i infatuated? addicted? obsessed? to the exclusion of all else? from the outside it might seem that way, but surely the outside is the only place to look from if you want any perspective at all...
question - how does one tell if happy is wrong?
by going to therapy?
good lord, that is a horrible thought.
Monday, August 4, 2008
feathers on my breath
i find myself running away, escaping, playing metaphorical video games in parents' hypothetical basements. i flee from pain and responsibility by drowning myself in fictitious worlds that i do not belong to and is this really what i need to be doing with my life?
"there is nothing in life that says you must live up to your full potential."
i have been lying, to others and myself, in small ways and big ways and every way possible. and all the truths i can bear to talk about are those which are unimportant and trivial and still manage to affect me more than anything else. and when i get the chance to make things right all i do is try to find somebody else who will listen to my sob-stories and help me make sense of them.
i need to stop living life one day at a time - it makes no sense. i don't care if i die tomorrow, one day at a time is killing me right now. i fear i try to drown my imperfections in imaginary worlds, i fear i will never stop, i fear i will never grow up and learn to take responsibility for the things i do, to myself and to others.
i am
so afraid
"you are so young, t."
i worry that i will never learn to handle anything on my own, that i will always turn to cry on shoulders: real, metaphorical, virtual. i fear i will always attempt to lose myself because i cannot bear to live in the real world where real people live. i see so much too much so many details - and i do so little... perhaps the point is not to take each event and squeeze every drop of wisdom and perspective it has to offer? perhaps the point is to keep looking at the big pictures. big pictures that i seem to keep missing, constantly consistently.
i do not worry about the big things. i shut them out of my head like so many flies that i think i believe will eventually die or just go away. i trust so much to the inner workings of the universe, to fate, to a grand plan. more than i realize.
why, when did i turn into such a fatalist?
i want to live my life devoid of the ability (the need) to see a story in every narrative. i want to live my life ordinary, and dull, and unsure. i want to live my life trying so hard that it makes me happy and sad and exhausted and exhilarated - so why can't i?
i want to be able to have problems that i might be afraid i won't be able to handle alone and still be able to tell people i will be fine - and mean it, really truly mean it, without wanting desperately to have someone ask me how i am and how i'm doing and if i can manage and are you going to be okay?. i want to be able to fool myself into needing nobody. i want to able to not need to fool myself. someday i will cry over something and not feel the need to place it outside myself as a spectacle, as a work of art for others to identify and sympathize with.
is this what growing up is about? i wonder. is it when you stop turning to others to help you deal with yourself? is this a good thing?
someday i hope to find i have turned an old woman.
i must stop running.
i must stop.
i want the imagination to go away.
"there is nothing in life that says you must live up to your full potential."
i have been lying, to others and myself, in small ways and big ways and every way possible. and all the truths i can bear to talk about are those which are unimportant and trivial and still manage to affect me more than anything else. and when i get the chance to make things right all i do is try to find somebody else who will listen to my sob-stories and help me make sense of them.
i need to stop living life one day at a time - it makes no sense. i don't care if i die tomorrow, one day at a time is killing me right now. i fear i try to drown my imperfections in imaginary worlds, i fear i will never stop, i fear i will never grow up and learn to take responsibility for the things i do, to myself and to others.
i am
so afraid
"you are so young, t."
i worry that i will never learn to handle anything on my own, that i will always turn to cry on shoulders: real, metaphorical, virtual. i fear i will always attempt to lose myself because i cannot bear to live in the real world where real people live. i see so much too much so many details - and i do so little... perhaps the point is not to take each event and squeeze every drop of wisdom and perspective it has to offer? perhaps the point is to keep looking at the big pictures. big pictures that i seem to keep missing, constantly consistently.
i do not worry about the big things. i shut them out of my head like so many flies that i think i believe will eventually die or just go away. i trust so much to the inner workings of the universe, to fate, to a grand plan. more than i realize.
why, when did i turn into such a fatalist?
i want to live my life devoid of the ability (the need) to see a story in every narrative. i want to live my life ordinary, and dull, and unsure. i want to live my life trying so hard that it makes me happy and sad and exhausted and exhilarated - so why can't i?
i want to be able to have problems that i might be afraid i won't be able to handle alone and still be able to tell people i will be fine - and mean it, really truly mean it, without wanting desperately to have someone ask me how i am and how i'm doing and if i can manage and are you going to be okay?. i want to be able to fool myself into needing nobody. i want to able to not need to fool myself. someday i will cry over something and not feel the need to place it outside myself as a spectacle, as a work of art for others to identify and sympathize with.
is this what growing up is about? i wonder. is it when you stop turning to others to help you deal with yourself? is this a good thing?
someday i hope to find i have turned an old woman.
i must stop running.
i must stop.
i want the imagination to go away.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
good lord
things get worse and worse, worse and worse. i'm not regretting, at all, at all - it was the right thing to do, surely? only. oh, dear oh dear i'm losing my mind.
self-centred, much, dear lonely teechild? let it be, it's your song; someone will cone along. sometime.
self-centred, much, dear lonely teechild? let it be, it's your song; someone will cone along. sometime.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
friggin midnight alarms
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
aaaaaaaaah
:(
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
aaaaaaaaah
:(
Thursday, July 31, 2008
dilemma
i want to be happy but i am only jealous
in a very grubby petty i-want-others-to-be-as-alone as i am way
especially of him
and her
him and her
that he has her and she has him
because they are right there on the edge of him and it hurts
if everybody i knew and cared about was single i think i would be perfectly happy
other people's love stories sicken me and make me want to die
this is jealousy
i would be fine if there were no love stories to compare my story to
why am i such a terrible selfish person
i should just kill myself and end the misery
at least it would not cost the world any more for my food and other items
though the surgeries would have been a waste
what is the point of worrying about consequences
and the waste of potential
and how much my parents invested
when nobody i want wants me back
it is not specifics but generalities which is good now
because now i don't need to talk to him only to myself
and i will probably get over him eventually
and maybe it will be today
but i still don't want to be alone
which is pathetic
but what can i do
i am truthful about my feelings and that is how i feel and of course
you don't want to hear it because you are not and you do not
what is the point of trying to write if i will only write in clichés
why doesn't he why don't they why won't he why won't they
and only think about him
and what i did and why he doesn't care
and why nobody sticks around
ever
what is the point
.
what
what is that
in a very grubby petty i-want-others-to-be-as-alone as i am way
especially of him
and her
him and her
that he has her and she has him
because they are right there on the edge of him and it hurts
if everybody i knew and cared about was single i think i would be perfectly happy
other people's love stories sicken me and make me want to die
this is jealousy
i would be fine if there were no love stories to compare my story to
why am i such a terrible selfish person
i should just kill myself and end the misery
at least it would not cost the world any more for my food and other items
though the surgeries would have been a waste
what is the point of worrying about consequences
and the waste of potential
and how much my parents invested
when nobody i want wants me back
it is not specifics but generalities which is good now
because now i don't need to talk to him only to myself
and i will probably get over him eventually
and maybe it will be today
but i still don't want to be alone
which is pathetic
but what can i do
i am truthful about my feelings and that is how i feel and of course
you don't want to hear it because you are not and you do not
what is the point of trying to write if i will only write in clichés
why doesn't he why don't they why won't he why won't they
and only think about him
and what i did and why he doesn't care
and why nobody sticks around
ever
what is the point
.
what
what is that
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
great big disease
mornings are the worst time. enormous nameless faceless feelings and a large helping of weeping. how attractive, my dear. let it go let it go why can't i?
how i feel is hanging in this great big vacuum with no boundaries and every time i look at it, it has expanded to fill just a little more space and if you would only draw me a box of how you feel, however small it is, i will shrink myself to fit inside, and lock it up, and throw away the key. and then perhaps i will be
(not fine but)
better.
how i feel is hanging in this great big vacuum with no boundaries and every time i look at it, it has expanded to fill just a little more space and if you would only draw me a box of how you feel, however small it is, i will shrink myself to fit inside, and lock it up, and throw away the key. and then perhaps i will be
(not fine but)
better.
Monday, July 28, 2008
the way we were
can't do it. can't let go, can't get out. how much longer is this going to take? she said, two years; and she was as old as i am now. i can't do this for two years - i have not even the requisite anger to see me through. i don't feel anything i can name: not old, or tired, or lonely, or miserable, or angry. i feel only that i need to talk to him. it is the sum total of how i feel. why am i so single-minded about it? why can't i just do what is sensible and healthy and satisfying to the ego? because i have none.
sigh, oh.
sigh, oh.
Friday, July 25, 2008
the right decision
'A jerk—of a jerk—to a jerk—a jerk—O jerk!'
'thanks and goodbye' was the right phrase, i think. thanks for all the before. goodbye for all the after. really, i don't know why i ever put up with that crap except for the very simple standard usual oh-of-course reason. i have made a decision, and now all i require is a great deal of determination and a willingness to believe that it does not matter to me even if the person i'm no longer going to speak to doesn't know it. and will not. or why.
i make no sense. must i make sense? yes, so i will remember the lessons later. here are the lessons:
'thanks and goodbye' was the right phrase, i think. thanks for all the before. goodbye for all the after. really, i don't know why i ever put up with that crap except for the very simple standard usual oh-of-course reason. i have made a decision, and now all i require is a great deal of determination and a willingness to believe that it does not matter to me even if the person i'm no longer going to speak to doesn't know it. and will not. or why.
i make no sense. must i make sense? yes, so i will remember the lessons later. here are the lessons:
- i will not let somebody, even if i will insist on remembering them in better circumstances, treat me as though i am stupid, immature, or incapable of being rational.
- i will not let myself pine over happier times that the other person involved in obviously does not remember or does not think important, meaningful or special in any way.
- i will not allow myself to hope for better when all i get from a person is a very cold shoulder.
- i will not be the victim. will not, will not, will not. victims are meant only as objects of derision.
- i will not not not push my anger away simply because i love somebody.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
no one
"...of the two I generally prefer reading..."
Some space, and some time, and very much patience. Oh, my dearest dear, can you manage any of it? Yes, and yes, because I dare not let myself be a miserable toad any longer than I must if I can possibly help it. The weather grows grey and large and full of threatening symbols but I will not fall I will not fail my T is better better worth more than that.
And now I will curl up in warm corners to be a happy sleeping bug. Yes, I shall.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
bonus material
dude, seriously. what else do you want now? yes, i know. i know you miss him and i know you're over him and of course the two are perfectly compatible because in T's world there are no preconceived notions, but seriously, dude.
i wish there were a way to talk sense into myself because i'm NOT FINE and I need to be fine as soon as humanly possible. seven months is a long time to carry something around inside you, isn't it? isn't it? i'm so tired. i'm so.
ugh ugh WHY WHY WHY DO YOU STILL NEED HIM AROUND WHY.
i don't know what else i can do. i don't know what to do. i don't know what to do. i repeat myself and repeat myself and nothing helps nothing can because i can't figure this out on my own and there is nobody here to help me clean up my messes.
i wish there were a way to talk sense into myself because i'm NOT FINE and I need to be fine as soon as humanly possible. seven months is a long time to carry something around inside you, isn't it? isn't it? i'm so tired. i'm so.
ugh ugh WHY WHY WHY DO YOU STILL NEED HIM AROUND WHY.
i don't know what else i can do. i don't know what to do. i don't know what to do. i repeat myself and repeat myself and nothing helps nothing can because i can't figure this out on my own and there is nobody here to help me clean up my messes.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
my heart is reeling
well, you know, it really is. i feel sad and regretful and strangely...old. strong urges to discuss this with someone are tempered by the fact that i'd have to explain two hundred thousand preceding thoughts-events-conversations that led to this point and i'm not sure i can.
(here, (but not for the first time) understand the appeal of therapists. i mean, someone who knows all about you and to whom you can talk about the big-new-thing in your life without explaining? i'd pay for that.)
was it something she said? i didn't think so, at the time. now i think little motes of someone else's opinions might affect you more than you'd expect them to. or be prepared for them to. even if you dismiss them as opinions of someone who doesn't really know.
(here, understand the importance of gossip and hearsay as key elements to generic opinion-forming. have i had the short end of the stick before? sure. but has somebody's point of view from the other side corresponded to opinions of people who've only heard your side? yes. see? the power of multiple opinions.)
funny. i'm over somebody and i don't really care if he knows it. that's new. it happened calmly and quietly and unexpectedly and i'm still not wholly certain it's happened. it hasn't stopped the other thoughts, but the one great big thought has gone.
i feel mature and adult-like, and that realization was the one that made me the saddest.
my inner wild child reproaches me.
(here, (but not for the first time) understand the appeal of therapists. i mean, someone who knows all about you and to whom you can talk about the big-new-thing in your life without explaining? i'd pay for that.)
was it something she said? i didn't think so, at the time. now i think little motes of someone else's opinions might affect you more than you'd expect them to. or be prepared for them to. even if you dismiss them as opinions of someone who doesn't really know.
(here, understand the importance of gossip and hearsay as key elements to generic opinion-forming. have i had the short end of the stick before? sure. but has somebody's point of view from the other side corresponded to opinions of people who've only heard your side? yes. see? the power of multiple opinions.)
funny. i'm over somebody and i don't really care if he knows it. that's new. it happened calmly and quietly and unexpectedly and i'm still not wholly certain it's happened. it hasn't stopped the other thoughts, but the one great big thought has gone.
i feel mature and adult-like, and that realization was the one that made me the saddest.
my inner wild child reproaches me.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
awful scary coincidences
sure and coincidences can be amusing, oh yes. that's when they're happy coincidences that have to do with girls named johnnie but what of the other coincidences, eh? the ones where you spend an entire morning unable to pray because you are prey (i know, i know, it's almost as good as the virtual vicinity!) to all sorts of maudlin fancies and you cannot cannot cannot get through more than a single minute without wanting to fall off comething very very tall and then excuse me here is a surprise for you and did you know when you were thinking this in the morning that the evening would bring a surprise like this? i thought not.
i'm very very very tired because i have slept two hours in two days and I have work to do the whole of tonight but i am not dead, and i am not suicidal and i am not likely to be either very soon barring unsightly accidents.
*sigh*
refuse to be refuse to be refuse to be hopeful about anything.
i'm very very very tired because i have slept two hours in two days and I have work to do the whole of tonight but i am not dead, and i am not suicidal and i am not likely to be either very soon barring unsightly accidents.
*sigh*
refuse to be refuse to be refuse to be hopeful about anything.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
can't stop checking
"he is walking away because he knows how you feel."
i knew that.
aah. i miss you and it hurts.
i knew that.
aah. i miss you and it hurts.
Monday, July 7, 2008
painfully
oh. i did want him to win so badly. i hope you know that. i hope you do. it was the first time i watched a match wanting someone to win. and so badly. no, really. i watch sports to watch people play, and at the end of a match i think, well! weren't they splendid? and this time i thought, can he win? can he? and i know i thought he couldn't but can he? please? and why did i say "i don't think he will?" why did i say that? in such poor taste and no wonder he hates me hates me hates me. but of course none of that is important because it is over and done with and now i am retiring from the ranks, as i promised myself i would.
i watched, thinking of you. how could i not? (during the rain break they spoke of Fabrice)
i watched and wondered how you were watching. and where. was it curled up in a great armchair? are there armchairs where you are? i wondered if you were working, if you ever worked while you watched or if that was sacrilege and how could you possibly. and i wondered what you were eating, and if you were, and what you were drinking, and if you were, and if you were thinking about what i'd said because it was in such poor taste and how *dare* she think he might not win? and whether you said things out loud while you were watching, like "Come on" and "Go" and "You can do it"; whether you do.
Oh dear. It is done, dear; all done. I will not bother you again.
God bless.
i watched, thinking of you. how could i not? (during the rain break they spoke of Fabrice)
i watched and wondered how you were watching. and where. was it curled up in a great armchair? are there armchairs where you are? i wondered if you were working, if you ever worked while you watched or if that was sacrilege and how could you possibly. and i wondered what you were eating, and if you were, and what you were drinking, and if you were, and if you were thinking about what i'd said because it was in such poor taste and how *dare* she think he might not win? and whether you said things out loud while you were watching, like "Come on" and "Go" and "You can do it"; whether you do.
Oh dear. It is done, dear; all done. I will not bother you again.
God bless.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Thursday, July 3, 2008
how it changes
there is a different calculation to make now, and a different spot on the map to stare at. hours: -4.5; (remember the daylight savings!) and a city much closer to home.
such desperately pathetic behaviour...
such desperately pathetic behaviour...
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
not a love song
your name still stops me in my tracks sometimes.
201 days, 2 hours, 5 minutes and 58 seconds since Friday, December 14, 2007 at 12:52:00 AM
201 days, 2 hours, 5 minutes and 58 seconds since Friday, December 14, 2007 at 12:52:00 AM
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
an overwhelming urge to run away screaming
i thought i was fine with the idea. i was, i suppose. but now- not cool. very much not. not fine. if i spend a single instant actually thinking about it i think my brain will implode.
it feels so wrong. why does it? i'm not scared; just very very uncomfortable. very. un. comfortable. there is so little that makes me uncomfortable and here, here is one but MY GOD. and WHY MUST THERE BE
and
i can't think.
i can't breathe.
i need to tell them to stop looking.
i need to tell them.
what reason?
what reason?
how will i explain? the gut is a fool, isn't it? a fool?
but i'm so-
UNCOMFORTABLE
--
.
and Cat? i know now why you run from it so. i apologize. i had no idea.
it feels so wrong. why does it? i'm not scared; just very very uncomfortable. very. un. comfortable. there is so little that makes me uncomfortable and here, here is one but MY GOD. and WHY MUST THERE BE
and
i can't think.
i can't breathe.
i need to tell them to stop looking.
i need to tell them.
what reason?
what reason?
how will i explain? the gut is a fool, isn't it? a fool?
but i'm so-
UNCOMFORTABLE
--
.
and Cat? i know now why you run from it so. i apologize. i had no idea.
Monday, June 23, 2008
the oddest things i remember
"*virtual hug*"
there is a pain in my heart where you are.
very pretty, upon my word.
there is a pain in my heart where you are.
very pretty, upon my word.
a song lyric
i come undone at the corners - the brain has been giving up in all spheres in spectacular ways that leave me feeling retarded and mildly suicidal. the new pet theory is that so much mental effort is going into not being a depressed miserable wreck that it can no longer process simple processes such as the driving of motor vehicles and the management of money.
oooh, but there is an enormous part of me considering the possibility that i really am growing dumber duller stupider, in which case i will definitely kill myself. if i have enough mental capacity to figure out a simple and foolproof way to do it, anyhow.
oh, sigh. that email read so much better before it was sent. :(
p.s. i just learnt it means: "conqueror of all miseries". i suppose it only applies to the person who owns the name?
oooh, but there is an enormous part of me considering the possibility that i really am growing dumber duller stupider, in which case i will definitely kill myself. if i have enough mental capacity to figure out a simple and foolproof way to do it, anyhow.
oh, sigh. that email read so much better before it was sent. :(
p.s. i just learnt it means: "conqueror of all miseries". i suppose it only applies to the person who owns the name?
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
email visitation
There are too many things I want to tell you: little bits of sentences float around in my head, like: if you tell me exactly what you meant by "unresolved feelings", i could tell you if you were being "presumptious". funny - the fact that you misspelled a word made me sad that i couldn't point it out to you and smile about it.
(but you weren't. you weren't. of course you knew.)
i wish i knew exactly what i was feeling the most. anger? resentment? des- why, what is the noun for despise?
apparently it is "despisal". very ugly. i don't like it.
(but you weren't. you weren't. of course you knew.)
i wish i knew exactly what i was feeling the most. anger? resentment? des- why, what is the noun for despise?
apparently it is "despisal". very ugly. i don't like it.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
coward.
What's the use of writing long sensible letters in your head if you're NEVER GOING TO SEND THEM????
Damnitdamnitdamnit.
Damnitdamnitdamnit.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
not what i was here to write, actually
i hate how easy it is for another person to change how i'm feeling.
DAMN IT JUST SHUT YOUR GOB.
DAMN IT JUST SHUT YOUR GOB.
Friday, June 6, 2008
telephone updates
the importance of meaning. did you know i heard some pō’ĭ-trē today? it made me think of you (well, what doesn't, really?) and it made me want to read some myself.
sudden thought: the lines between the blogs are blurred again. what was it? "this is the subject; this is the object" and i feel, somehow somehow, that it is the same she who read that poem. i suppose a person is not really a person without blurred edges. i wish people with better feeling were reading those poems.
the.
i went back and read old chat transcripts and missed you. i avoided doing that for a long time. reading transcripts. do you know why? because chat transcripts lie. they remind you of feelings you had that probably weren't really real and of times that were better and happier and not really real either. i did the reading after other people left and it was probably the worst idea possible.
the thing is - not everyone remembers the things i remember. about lost luggage and camels and missing hotel rooms and popcorn and gujarati food. i can't remember how i felt before. that is odd and disconcerting and not really a relief. scoping you out. i wonder why you said so many of the things you said. disapproved. did you? i wish i'd had the courage to ask - i wish i had it now.
i wonder sometimes if i really am as obscure as all that. maybe i can read signals that pass other by. maybe i only give that kind of signal, though in my head i'm singing it loud and clear.
things to say things to say. good coffee in the morning and song lyrics that will always remind me of you.
whatever you're trying isn't really working.
sudden thought: the lines between the blogs are blurred again. what was it? "this is the subject; this is the object" and i feel, somehow somehow, that it is the same she who read that poem. i suppose a person is not really a person without blurred edges. i wish people with better feeling were reading those poems.
the.
i went back and read old chat transcripts and missed you. i avoided doing that for a long time. reading transcripts. do you know why? because chat transcripts lie. they remind you of feelings you had that probably weren't really real and of times that were better and happier and not really real either. i did the reading after other people left and it was probably the worst idea possible.
the thing is - not everyone remembers the things i remember. about lost luggage and camels and missing hotel rooms and popcorn and gujarati food. i can't remember how i felt before. that is odd and disconcerting and not really a relief. scoping you out. i wonder why you said so many of the things you said. disapproved. did you? i wish i'd had the courage to ask - i wish i had it now.
i wonder sometimes if i really am as obscure as all that. maybe i can read signals that pass other by. maybe i only give that kind of signal, though in my head i'm singing it loud and clear.
things to say things to say. good coffee in the morning and song lyrics that will always remind me of you.
whatever you're trying isn't really working.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
the folder on the desktop
it says "boys for t", and i can't remember if i named it that or someone else did. surely it is the sort of thing i would remember?, she asks. i don't want to be looking at profiles of good indian boys looking for a life partner. i don't want anybody but you. there, i said it. sure, i'm stupid, and crazy, and that's possibly the worst idea i've ever had - wanting someone i've never seen, met or spoken to. and my sister asked about you, she said what about him, and i regret that everyone knows everyone knows everyone knows.
(it's not a pure saying, but it's true)
oh, woe. in a year i will be settled with a husband and a house and all my regrets. what will you have?
(it's not a pure saying, but it's true)
oh, woe. in a year i will be settled with a husband and a house and all my regrets. what will you have?
Monday, May 26, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
like the sunshine
i like that the word still has more than one meaning. as does the word miss. they are words that pass through my mind more often now than previously, i think. i begin to lose my grip over this language that i love so much: i'm growing nit-picky and predictable, with no words left to express the way i feel about anything.
it is only wonderful to use simple words if you do it despite knowing words of five syllables, surely?
i don't think i know any words of five syllables.
i meet new people every weekend. three people this week i spoke to or saw whom i had never met or heard before. and it meant nothing to me because i could not share it.
it's hard to feel this way all the time. it's hard to go to bed now and realize that tomorrow is the beginning of another week in my life and you won't be there just as you haven't been there all this time.
it's hard when there is nobody to talk to about this and nobody with impersonal advice to give and nobody who will do me the favour of kicking me in the head and telling me you're not worth any of this. funnily enough, i never manage to believe it when i say it myself.
still for you; still for you.
like the title says.
it is only wonderful to use simple words if you do it despite knowing words of five syllables, surely?
i don't think i know any words of five syllables.
i meet new people every weekend. three people this week i spoke to or saw whom i had never met or heard before. and it meant nothing to me because i could not share it.
it's hard to feel this way all the time. it's hard to go to bed now and realize that tomorrow is the beginning of another week in my life and you won't be there just as you haven't been there all this time.
it's hard when there is nobody to talk to about this and nobody with impersonal advice to give and nobody who will do me the favour of kicking me in the head and telling me you're not worth any of this. funnily enough, i never manage to believe it when i say it myself.
still for you; still for you.
like the title says.
Monday, May 12, 2008
when will it get easier?
once upon a time it was easy to get the words out however cheesy and self-involved and entirely stupid they sounded. devoid of sense, because of course my own nonsense amused me, it fed me, it gave me anchors to which to tie myself and now i've lost all anchors because of one person and how is that even possible how is it? everybody knows and is that how you keep a secret, T? not a secret now, no, now everybody knows or suspects and wonders and you must be the subject of much behind-the-back-bitchiness but i don't care because he's not there and it's too much trouble to be anything but ordinary and empty and unconscious for fear i will feel more than i can possibly handle. i went looking in the old places, something i swore to myself i would never do with this one; but promises are hard to keep when you feel for someone so much of an "unwieldy beastie" and was i rude really was i? i was in so much pain and i did my best to ask you to help me out and you called me rude and broke my place again.
the answer.
all of it was true and has been true and the truth has been for months now months. i wish i could write the whole thing off it would be easier in the long run just another person i cared about and lost because i cross boundaries others draw in secret and never talk about in public but i don't want to you have no idea how much i don't want to and dare not and how will i ever feel this way again i am afraid that happiness i felt when you were around is out of my life forever and i couldn't stand that so i will wait now wait until you let me know which direction will cause me the most pain in the longest and most torturous manner possible so that i can choose that before i die.
perhaps i should just die. the fun in life might seem apparent to me then. :) a smile! i elicited one with suicide references o what is wrong with me?
i miss you, that's what's wrong.
and how?
how?
how?
how did you not know?
the answer.
all of it was true and has been true and the truth has been for months now months. i wish i could write the whole thing off it would be easier in the long run just another person i cared about and lost because i cross boundaries others draw in secret and never talk about in public but i don't want to you have no idea how much i don't want to and dare not and how will i ever feel this way again i am afraid that happiness i felt when you were around is out of my life forever and i couldn't stand that so i will wait now wait until you let me know which direction will cause me the most pain in the longest and most torturous manner possible so that i can choose that before i die.
perhaps i should just die. the fun in life might seem apparent to me then. :) a smile! i elicited one with suicide references o what is wrong with me?
i miss you, that's what's wrong.
and how?
how?
how?
how did you not know?
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
hornéd
Because of course I love him? "Pyaar isi ko kehte hain", and I'm still not sure. I'm confused. I'm... scared.
I went away for the weekend with friends and spent two days away from everything, and the minute it was time to leave and get back to the real world he was in my head again.
I joined groups and made new friends and attended the most fascinating events, and every time there was a reason to (and sometimes when there was none), I connected it back to him.
I'm afraid that I don't remember him right. I'm afraid I'm imagining things again. I'm.
I just miss him so. And not in a way that makes me cry or want to die; just in a by-the-way accompaniment to every other thing. It tints my life. And he isn't here, and he doesn't care, and I wish I would just fall in love with someone who loved me back.
I went away for the weekend with friends and spent two days away from everything, and the minute it was time to leave and get back to the real world he was in my head again.
I joined groups and made new friends and attended the most fascinating events, and every time there was a reason to (and sometimes when there was none), I connected it back to him.
I'm afraid that I don't remember him right. I'm afraid I'm imagining things again. I'm.
I just miss him so. And not in a way that makes me cry or want to die; just in a by-the-way accompaniment to every other thing. It tints my life. And he isn't here, and he doesn't care, and I wish I would just fall in love with someone who loved me back.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
around the same time
mostly i manage. i do. i don't suffer from a lack of things to do, as i suffered last december. on the contrary: it's all i can do to get the things done that i want to get done. and most of the time i manage to be rather pleasant, even if i do not extend it to being utterly happy.
once in a while, though, i wake up at four in the morning and can't get back to sleep because i miss you with such abandon. i've used that word before, haven't i? recklessness, then. reckless abandon. vehemence. i miss you with more vim and vigour than i put into most other activities.
my conscious life is populated with gaping spaces that nobody else can fill. funny how that is. i've stopped analysing the validity of my feelings. i think, perhaps, that it was a sensible decision to make. worry causes no good; only ulcers and hair loss.
so many adventures. i wish you were around so i could tell you. you have no idea how many seconds of the day i wish it. all my brightest moments were lost with our conversations. if you found out they meant so much to me, why were you so cruel as to take them right away?
once in a while, though, i wake up at four in the morning and can't get back to sleep because i miss you with such abandon. i've used that word before, haven't i? recklessness, then. reckless abandon. vehemence. i miss you with more vim and vigour than i put into most other activities.
my conscious life is populated with gaping spaces that nobody else can fill. funny how that is. i've stopped analysing the validity of my feelings. i think, perhaps, that it was a sensible decision to make. worry causes no good; only ulcers and hair loss.
so many adventures. i wish you were around so i could tell you. you have no idea how many seconds of the day i wish it. all my brightest moments were lost with our conversations. if you found out they meant so much to me, why were you so cruel as to take them right away?
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
returned to sender.
People are careless sometimes. (This is what I tell myself, soon after someone has said or done something that drops topples my world about my ears.) They usually don't mean to hurt, but they end up doing it anyway - and most of the nicer people manage to be of the kind who will actually apologize when you tell them they've hurt you.
I will say something selfish and honest now. I want an apology. You probably think you've apologized already, or that it wasn't important to warrant any further discussion or whatever, but it still preys on my mind from time to time. I don't like that.
So I would like you to please apologize for not calling or emailing or showing any of the concern I would have expected from any other person I might have gone to meet. And for not noticing how much it bothered me, even though I tried telling you a hundred times afterwards.
Also - it felt so unfair to me that you could demand sensitivity of me as a friend and not give it in return. Do you understand? This has nothing to do with how I feel about you, which is a huge awkward unwieldy beastie and something I'm not ready to deal with yet. This is just about how ill-used I felt.
As a friend, not as anything else.
I will say something selfish and honest now. I want an apology. You probably think you've apologized already, or that it wasn't important to warrant any further discussion or whatever, but it still preys on my mind from time to time. I don't like that.
So I would like you to please apologize for not calling or emailing or showing any of the concern I would have expected from any other person I might have gone to meet. And for not noticing how much it bothered me, even though I tried telling you a hundred times afterwards.
Also - it felt so unfair to me that you could demand sensitivity of me as a friend and not give it in return. Do you understand? This has nothing to do with how I feel about you, which is a huge awkward unwieldy beastie and something I'm not ready to deal with yet. This is just about how ill-used I felt.
As a friend, not as anything else.
Okay, that's all. :)
I hope you'll still be talking to me.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
the sunshine
i do not like his writing when he writes. i will never dare to tell him now. not because i am afraid it will damage his ego, or because it will hurt his feelings, because the time for such qualms should have passed a long time ago. no, it is because i do not dare to say something that might be tinged with spite. save me from ever being spiteful, dear.
how easily the affectation of affection leads us to be untrue! and how fragile the ego of a writer! how did i escape that flaw that will hate all those who do not appreciate my writing, when i cannot separate myself from it if i tried? perhaps it is because i do not even have enough ego to hate those who do not appreciate my self.
how many ever times you ask them, they rarely see until it is far too late exactly how much company means to you. how, how, how could he not have known? no dearth of signs, surely?
i think, perhaps, it has passed the point of no return without my noticing.
i do not know if i will ever think of him as a friend now. i, who would even suffer discomfort for the people i deemed friends. he will not know, which is not altogether a bad thing. it is easier to stop caring about someone when you cannot convince yourself of their compassion.
what bothers me the most, perhaps, is fact that my intuition seems to grow worse every passing year. am i that poor a judge of character? do i only choose to love people who are not worthy of my love? or is it that it my love that is not worthy, or not right, or not of the kind that will ever find someone worthy? or is it just that i am a person nobody else can stand to put up with beyond the largest of boundaries?
dangerous questions, all. answers yes are the reason it takes twice as much effort to keep the smile on my face now. oh, it hurts to be so alone in my head.
how easily the affectation of affection leads us to be untrue! and how fragile the ego of a writer! how did i escape that flaw that will hate all those who do not appreciate my writing, when i cannot separate myself from it if i tried? perhaps it is because i do not even have enough ego to hate those who do not appreciate my self.
how many ever times you ask them, they rarely see until it is far too late exactly how much company means to you. how, how, how could he not have known? no dearth of signs, surely?
i think, perhaps, it has passed the point of no return without my noticing.
i do not know if i will ever think of him as a friend now. i, who would even suffer discomfort for the people i deemed friends. he will not know, which is not altogether a bad thing. it is easier to stop caring about someone when you cannot convince yourself of their compassion.
what bothers me the most, perhaps, is fact that my intuition seems to grow worse every passing year. am i that poor a judge of character? do i only choose to love people who are not worthy of my love? or is it that it my love that is not worthy, or not right, or not of the kind that will ever find someone worthy? or is it just that i am a person nobody else can stand to put up with beyond the largest of boundaries?
dangerous questions, all. answers yes are the reason it takes twice as much effort to keep the smile on my face now. oh, it hurts to be so alone in my head.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
in real time
why is it so hard? it's five in the morning and there is an enormous band across my chest (henry, i think the carriage is breaking) where the noun-of-despise is.
there; he's gone.
again, at eight. it is all my life is worth. so hush, and be careful. even obsessive commas will forgive you.
there; he's gone.
again, at eight. it is all my life is worth. so hush, and be careful. even obsessive commas will forgive you.
Friday, April 4, 2008
nobody to talk to
repetition repetition repetition
see the pretty meta?
i am single-minded and narrow minded and closed in the head. what do they call people who have only the one thought?
i wish i weren't so terribly unpleasant and unpleasing and impossible to spend more than two moments with. what is the use of being a human if you cannot think anything but one thing? every day is meaningless and heavy and so hard to look forward to. "what do you do for fun?" i would have answered very differently last year.
will i say it again?
there is nobody left to talk to because i will only be a crashing bore if i open my mouth at this point. which of my amiable acquaintances wants a lovesick puppy pouring grievances into their ears? oh, none except those i would not turn to. how will you help me when i don't want to be helped?
i am afraid of being cured because i fear it will make me forget.
"She had got her mood onto paper. This is the release that all writers, even the feeblest, seek for as all men seek for love; and, having found it, they doze off happily into dreams and trouble their hearts no further."
see the pretty meta?
i am single-minded and narrow minded and closed in the head. what do they call people who have only the one thought?
i wish i weren't so terribly unpleasant and unpleasing and impossible to spend more than two moments with. what is the use of being a human if you cannot think anything but one thing? every day is meaningless and heavy and so hard to look forward to. "what do you do for fun?" i would have answered very differently last year.
will i say it again?
there is nobody left to talk to because i will only be a crashing bore if i open my mouth at this point. which of my amiable acquaintances wants a lovesick puppy pouring grievances into their ears? oh, none except those i would not turn to. how will you help me when i don't want to be helped?
i am afraid of being cured because i fear it will make me forget.
"She had got her mood onto paper. This is the release that all writers, even the feeblest, seek for as all men seek for love; and, having found it, they doze off happily into dreams and trouble their hearts no further."
Friday, March 28, 2008
remember
reckless. reckless with my heart.
still, the t follows footprints. she will fall down a hole very soon.
still, the t follows footprints. she will fall down a hole very soon.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
with some low self-esteem
I forget, sometimes, that he likes wandering around commenting on other people's blogs. If I had remembered, it might not have affected me exactly the way it did. I speculate, however; the truth is that it affected me badly enough that I regressed three whole months to Christmas.
Oh, dear.
Oh dear.
(Which one is the one I mean? One wishes one knew English grammar officially. One likes the sound "one" makes in one's head.)
I'm so tempted to reach out again. Even if it is just to ask how he is doing, or what he's doing - or to talk about my sad little life, like in the old days. I know how much I want this, and I am almost certain that it is just exactly the reason I must not...
New acquaintances have been sowing seeds of perspective in the opposite direction, and it has been unpleasant and discouraging. It is hard to cope with a truth that convinces you that nothing you can say or do can ever change the circumstances, isn't it? Very bleak. How stubborn and insurmountable other humans are, sometimes.
Oh, I wish so much.
Question: would I be feeling this way if I hadn't been by?
Answer:
But everyone knows the answer to a question like that.
Oh, dear.
Oh dear.
(Which one is the one I mean? One wishes one knew English grammar officially. One likes the sound "one" makes in one's head.)
I'm so tempted to reach out again. Even if it is just to ask how he is doing, or what he's doing - or to talk about my sad little life, like in the old days. I know how much I want this, and I am almost certain that it is just exactly the reason I must not...
New acquaintances have been sowing seeds of perspective in the opposite direction, and it has been unpleasant and discouraging. It is hard to cope with a truth that convinces you that nothing you can say or do can ever change the circumstances, isn't it? Very bleak. How stubborn and insurmountable other humans are, sometimes.
Oh, I wish so much.
Question: would I be feeling this way if I hadn't been by?
Answer:
But everyone knows the answer to a question like that.
Friday, March 21, 2008
borrowed with apologies that i haven't given yet
I admire people who have the courage to search for themselves, to continue to search for themselves even if it means displaying an aspect to the world that's hesitant, nebulous. Who believe in being true to themselves, who believe that there's such a thing as being true to oneself. Who are prepared to stand up for what they believe in, but are never entirely comfortable in certainties. Because doubt is what carries us forward - there are time when we must fail, we must revise. Who are considerate and empathetic, never seek dominion over their fellow beings. But know their own place in the world, and are not afraid to assert it; it is wrong to believe one is entitled, but also irresponsible to believe one is nothing at all. The strength that is given us, we must use. In the service of hope, belief, optimism, art, beauty, love, loyalty, conscience - whatever is a principle, and stays with us though we continue to question it and strive to see it for what it truly is.
I admire people who are not abandoned to the heart, but see also the power of the intellect. Who see words and ideas as things in and of themselves, demanding respect, demanding attention. But do not see them as tokens of power, to be used as weapons against those who do not possess them... They are meant to be corrective, to be used against power and authority.To bring us to a new understanding, where we know ourselves and therefore know that we need not remain prisoners of fear or of circumstance. And then to something beyond understanding...
I admire people who are open to the world. Who allow themselves to be touched by people, and are not afraid to influence in turn. Who recognize that honesty may bring pain, but lack of honesty will cut even deeper. Who keep their power to trust after having been betrayed, but whose wounds give a new knowledge that must be used. Who are capable of forgiveness, or of repentance, as the case may be. Who know the meaning of gratitude, of being grateful as well as being gracious enough to accept gratitude.
I admire people who believe the world can be changed for the better, and who act on that belief. Who are not ashamed to change it in small ways... Who do not take the burden of the world upon themselves, because to do so is to hinder action. Who allow that the world is larger than themselves, is not there to be feared or battled, but to be inhabited. Who have an idea of their place in the world, and an idea of how to achieve that place. And a way of getting from ideas to reality...
It's a wonder that I'm not continually exhausted from admiring people, is it not. :)
Nov 10, 2006. It is a very old letter.
I admire people who are not abandoned to the heart, but see also the power of the intellect. Who see words and ideas as things in and of themselves, demanding respect, demanding attention. But do not see them as tokens of power, to be used as weapons against those who do not possess them... They are meant to be corrective, to be used against power and authority.To bring us to a new understanding, where we know ourselves and therefore know that we need not remain prisoners of fear or of circumstance. And then to something beyond understanding...
I admire people who are open to the world. Who allow themselves to be touched by people, and are not afraid to influence in turn. Who recognize that honesty may bring pain, but lack of honesty will cut even deeper. Who keep their power to trust after having been betrayed, but whose wounds give a new knowledge that must be used. Who are capable of forgiveness, or of repentance, as the case may be. Who know the meaning of gratitude, of being grateful as well as being gracious enough to accept gratitude.
I admire people who believe the world can be changed for the better, and who act on that belief. Who are not ashamed to change it in small ways... Who do not take the burden of the world upon themselves, because to do so is to hinder action. Who allow that the world is larger than themselves, is not there to be feared or battled, but to be inhabited. Who have an idea of their place in the world, and an idea of how to achieve that place. And a way of getting from ideas to reality...
It's a wonder that I'm not continually exhausted from admiring people, is it not. :)
Nov 10, 2006. It is a very old letter.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
the easier emotion
Anger is easier to deal with than sadness - mainly because you can channel it somewhere if you try. Sadness just turns around in on yourself, and then what?
One never wished to hate him, but one almost does. Almost.
It does not taste very pleasant.
Apparently I will not talk any more. This is terrible, because I used to talk well, once. I interested myself. Now I'm silent and dull. This bothers me.
I'm no longer pining. This bothers me, too.
"It made me feel sad for you."
Why does that sentence simply make me want to hit him?
One never wished to hate him, but one almost does. Almost.
It does not taste very pleasant.
Apparently I will not talk any more. This is terrible, because I used to talk well, once. I interested myself. Now I'm silent and dull. This bothers me.
I'm no longer pining. This bothers me, too.
"It made me feel sad for you."
Why does that sentence simply make me want to hit him?
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Saturday, February 2, 2008
brood
disjoint bereft lost. he's gone. i think the words are gone. i fear they are; i fear the sentences won't come any more. i don't want to think curse, i don't, don't think it - it makes no sense. i think i'm miserable. i think i miss him - i think i lost a voice i had when he was around. how do i speak again? how will i? what will i say that i haven't already said a million times over? where is the person i thought i was? was she only someone i pretended to be for that time, like a pleasant friendly personality donned for the sake of making friendly?
read, someone says. read. reading is lovely. it is, isn't it? lovely. you need to find something you can read without associations. read without thinking read something to take your mind off things relax let go GET OUT.
i'm not ready to make new friends, i think.
read, someone says. read. reading is lovely. it is, isn't it? lovely. you need to find something you can read without associations. read without thinking read something to take your mind off things relax let go GET OUT.
i'm not ready to make new friends, i think.
Friday, February 1, 2008
ulcers
I manage to get by, most of the time. The rest of the time I'm a miserable wreck, and I don't want to ascribe it to the one thing that makes sense. I can't think. I can't talk. I can't write - everything's in little pieces, and I miss you. I still haven't forgiven you. This makes for many conflicted thought processes, and the situations in the house don't help much.
It is awful to have no one to talk to.
I've never had no one to talk to.
People will listen
but I don't want them
I wish I could just cry and get it out of my system, but it won't go. Sits there quiet like a sad lump of clay and them jumps up and bites me when I think I'm over it.
My words are undone and limp
they don't make sense
they're ugly
ugly
when has anything i've written ever been ugly?
this is all your fault
It is awful to have no one to talk to.
I've never had no one to talk to.
People will listen
but I don't want them
I wish I could just cry and get it out of my system, but it won't go. Sits there quiet like a sad lump of clay and them jumps up and bites me when I think I'm over it.
My words are undone and limp
they don't make sense
they're ugly
ugly
when has anything i've written ever been ugly?
this is all your fault
Friday, January 25, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
i will.
only how long is a while, my dear?
it strikes me as terribly unfair how fine i am until i hear from you between silences. all the wisdom in the world will not make me a whit smarter when it comes to the sticking point.
why does the power of saying the things i mean desert me only when i need it the most? perhaps because of all the things i must not say that tie my tongue into paths it cannot follow comfortably. why then be deliberately cruel? oh sigh, i cannot understand it. does it hurt me more than it hurts you? i doubt it - i will doubt it: if only because it is easier to recover from pleasant surprise than from crushing disappointment.
and now, suddenly, i'm waiting again; after all i did not to have to... only, i know it will not be today (or tomorrow, or the next week, or the next month) - our next meeting. i think i will manage eventually, to let it all go. i know i don't want to; not in the least possible littlest corner of me i don't want to at all but i will, eventually i will because i must.
and still there is hope in spite.
it strikes me as terribly unfair how fine i am until i hear from you between silences. all the wisdom in the world will not make me a whit smarter when it comes to the sticking point.
why does the power of saying the things i mean desert me only when i need it the most? perhaps because of all the things i must not say that tie my tongue into paths it cannot follow comfortably. why then be deliberately cruel? oh sigh, i cannot understand it. does it hurt me more than it hurts you? i doubt it - i will doubt it: if only because it is easier to recover from pleasant surprise than from crushing disappointment.
and now, suddenly, i'm waiting again; after all i did not to have to... only, i know it will not be today (or tomorrow, or the next week, or the next month) - our next meeting. i think i will manage eventually, to let it all go. i know i don't want to; not in the least possible littlest corner of me i don't want to at all but i will, eventually i will because i must.
and still there is hope in spite.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
i can't keep doing this
fast and loose and in and out and yes and no and -
what did I ever do to make you treat me this way?
what did I ever do to make you treat me this way?
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
for my cat
I grow accustomed.
Did you know I had stories to tell you? I cannot tell them now; I'm afraid I will break before I finish. I am happy, is that not odd? I should be miserable (oh, I am; but I am) but I'm not, just in pain once in a while.
I love you, but -
I will have to let you go.
Did you know I had stories to tell you? I cannot tell them now; I'm afraid I will break before I finish. I am happy, is that not odd? I should be miserable (oh, I am; but I am) but I'm not, just in pain once in a while.
I love you, but -
I will have to let you go.
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