January 2011
One day, you’ll realize it all.
You’ll realize that something is askew. Not quite right. Broken? Perhaps. But that’s not really for me to say.
It’s pretty strong right now, isn’t it? That tug, that inexplicable pull. Not where your heart is, but more to the middle. And deeper in. That jerk of the rope that makes it…divinely unbearable. Almost like you want to stick your hand through your chest and press down to see if that will make it stop. And one minute you revel in it, and the next minute it brings you to...
There are times throughout every day that I stop and think of how utterly terrified I am for the next 50 years. I imagine a world without a rain forest and I literally want to break down and cry.
Almost hurts too much to think about.
I have no idea what my body is trying to tell me. I wish I understood. I get so frustrated all I want to do is cry. Frustration makes me cry. I’ve been that way all my life. Problem is, crying sucks.
It’s hard, not being good at forgiveness. I seem to really suck at it, man. Like…really suck at it.
Oh, right.
And it’s almost my birthday.
Sometimes
Sometimes, it feels like too much, yanno?
Struggling, strangling, gasping.
Little movements cause huge tremors,
And then you have to pay the price at the end of the day.
Maybe that’s all this is…
The end of a day.
Just one more day.
I need a vacation. From life.
I just realized that most of the people I have ever admired in my life have been men. I very rarely admire women. And it’s kind of always been that way.
And now, boys and girls, it’s time for some speculation as to why…
Average has always been like a curse word to me. It’s a word that I almost always use in disdain, if not at the very least boredom. I’ve never wanted to be average, or have an average job or an average life. I didn’t even want an average funeral, whenever the time came for me to part with this world. At the ripe old age of 8 I decided that I wanted to be mummified like the...
It’s always been really difficult for me to think that others think of me. And I don’t mean family, I mean friends, acquaintances, etc. Lovers, even. It always surprises me when I hear that they do. I’ve always wondered what my therapist thought of that. LMFAO!
I think about you too much.
Too many things remind me of you.
Maybe because too much of you is in me.
There has always been too much of you in me.
But that’s what made it so beautiful in the beginning.
Isn’t it?
I’m not nearly as international as I want to be.
Or need to be.
Oh, and...
…yes, I am basically jealous of everyone who has ever come in contact with you in a romantic way. What can I say, I sin every day. Hey, that would make a great song lyric…or part of a poem.
Whatever.
Yeah...
That whole love thing. Really wish it was me.
I can be a wonderfully wicked person at times. Oh, it is horrible to giggle gleefully when I hear that my “perfumed letter” caused a bit of a ruckus. And yet….sinfully satisfying, LMFAO.
*insert an obscenely large amount of devious snickering here*
I’m so bad.
Is it wrong to find yourself fascinating? Or to look at your life as a potential book/screenplay/movie? Maybe…
Another truth...
The truth is, right now I don’t think I can stand to be loved. Or to love. Too much in it. Too much waiting and second-guessing and…throwing your all in. My therapist said that when I love, worlds move. The problem with that is upheaval of any kind always creates problems; collisions, disorientation, etc.
Yep. Can’t stand to be loved right now.
