I know this is going to sound wrong even before I say it and yet, I'm still going to say it. I've had a lot of different men in and out of my life. Each one falls into a category of sorts... There's something about each particular man that I associate with something else. Allen was a kind bud man. We smoked a lot of weed with a lot of crazy names and we had so much fun together (except that day that we were fighting and I went to a Broncos game - my first professional football game - and I was miserable the entire time because he was mean to me). I still miss him. Allen meant blunts and conversation and endless laughter. Then there was Roy...Mr. Pure. He wouldn't even drink soda because it was bad for you. But that big ole Caribbean boy would take me into little Jamaica and find weed for me because that's what I wanted - even though he'd never smoked once. Which seems sort of a sin to me because he was FROM Trinidad! Lord, I was in love with that man. He meant Jamaican beef patties, curry goat, ginger beer, and endless nights of mind blowing sex. We were in our early twenties and he accused me of trying to kill him with sex. The Soca, Dancehall music and dancing....getting busted at the golf course with my bra on the console and his pants undone and the cops asking HIM if he was being raped (windows completely steamed over). His mama asking me to type an email for her and saying "God don't like ugly" and me asking her what the hell that meant. Buying a Jamaican cookbook and learning his native dishes. Roy was my island boy. He was also the first man to hit me, throw me down a flight of stairs, threaten to stab me and then, ultimately, pull a gun on me as I drove away into the Philadelphia night afraid for my life.
Then there was the Muslim whose name I can't recall....he thought just because his dick was huge I should have had eight orgasms in the space of two minutes. When I laughed in his face he put a gun into mine. Wow, was I dating the wrong men! I dumped him. He kept threatening to kill me. I moved.
Texas brought a new breed. Scofield. Like the Bible. Never even heard of the Scofield Bible until my mama told me. He cheated on me with his ex-wife. I ate a handful of xanax. Lived. Can't kill myself no matter how many times I try.
Which reminds me of one of my last attempts - not the last, just one of the last. I know, you shouldn't talk about suicide so casually. And yes, I know how devastating it is to those left behind but I get it. My cousin killed himself. My friend Chad killed himself. I have a tattoo on the back of my neck because of Chad. A week before his suicide he got a tattoo on his arm. Wouldn't tell anyone what it meant. The night before his death we were talking about him moving in with me. The next day I got the call. Within a week six of us went to the same tattoo parlor, got the same tattoo artist, got the same tattoo. Thom (who has it) touched mine several weeks ago. Just rubbed his fingers over it and didn't say anything and I was flooded with sorrow. We both were. It's something we have that no one, not even his wife, will ever understand. I felt sorry for him in a way that he married a woman that couldn't grasp the significance of what we went through. But who could? Who could unless you were there? Unless you read his suicide note? Found him. Went to his funeral. Lived through that nightmare.
So I know what it does to everyone left behind. But when you are there, you are there. So I've never been mad at my cousin or at Chad. I could never be mad at them. Because sometimes you feel like it's your only choice. And boy, did I try. I ended up in the ICU. They wanted me to sleep but how could I when someone was in the room every five minutes checking something or taking more blood? I was on live video feed the entire time. I had so many tubes and monitors I didn't know if I could move. I'd tried many times before but this time I wasn't crying for help, I was trying to die. Why couldn't they just let me?
Today, I'm glad they didn't let me. I'm glad they swooped me up and took me to the hospital and made me drink that vile concoction. I'm glad they put me in ICU and watched me every minute and forced me to stay on psych for days. At the time I just wanted out and my psychologist came to visit me and said "Sarah, do you realize you almost killed yourself? You are here because you almost succeeded." I said I didn't care. Let me out. Let me out. Please, let me out.
Now, I can't imagine feeling so sad. Don't misunderstand, I get very, very sad. I'm bipolar. I have borderline personality disorder. My lows are devastating. I just don't want to die anymore. I want to see what happens next. I just survived something epic. I came out on the other side and I didn't die. Oh, I might have tried once or twice and the one thing I will thank Mark for is for not letting me. Some part of him must have loved something about me. I just don't want to die anymore. I want to go away sometimes. I want to escape lots. I want to be wrapped up in something until the pain at least ebbs. But I don't want to die anymore. That's something.
I'm morphing into something else. I'm excited and terrified. What will happen next?
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Out of Order
So my little sister just had a baby. Prior to that my niece had a baby. My niece!!! And now I've just discovered that my nephew has proposed to his girlfriend and she has said yes. Let's tally - two babies and a wedding and I can't find a date. WTF? Well, I can find a date but I don't care for any of them. Except that one guy. I liked him. But he was way too short. I couldn't do it. I know I'm a hypocrite because I'm short as hell but that's why I like taller men. Something about it makes me feel all safe and squishy. I don't like eye-to-eye with a guy. I like to look up a little....using my eyes is enough but if I gotta tilt back my whole head? Shit. Plus I like being pulled in for a hug and having my face nestle right into his chest. It's comfortable. There is too tall. I mean, that guy I dated in Philly (the chemist) was 6'8". It was ridiculous. How do you walk around in the world being that tall?
Anyway, all I'm saying is that these things are happening out of order and I'm a wee bit pissed aobut it. Rachel is getting engaged before me (I hear that's coming soon - now that fucking Brit is going to be my brother-in-law praise Jesus)? Jessica having a baby and getting married before me? ETHAN getting married??? What the hell is going ON? What have I been doing with myself? Oh, that's right. I moved OUT of the small, hick town and tried to have a life before I got married. Now, it looks like marriage is out. But I'm not so sure I want to get married anyway. And the truth is, even if my childhood sweetheart had asked me I'm pretty sure I would have said no. I loved him, don't get me wrong. I'll always love him. He's....well, he's him. But I had things I wanted to do. Places I wanted to go. So I probably would have asked him to wait for me or flat out refused. He wouldn't have waited, I would have cheated, so all in all it's worked out for the best. When I'm in a relationship I am faithful. I never cheated on any boyfriend and went almost six years devoted to Mark (who did not deserve that). I'm usually single though and then I have no ties to anyone and I can do what I like. Which I do. Once upon a time I did it frequently. I just have to get back into my - God, I don't want to say groove....be all Stella and shit - rhythm.
My whole life has been out-of-order so why should this be any different? Christ, I wish I could remember the Yiddish for that....used to say it damn near daily....manish tana.....FUCK. Now I have to look it up. But the translation is: why should this day be any different from any other day? Well, shit. It's one of the four questions from Passover....Why is this night different from all other nights.... Now I can't remember the phrase I want. I used to be such a good Jewish girl. MomMom would die. "What, are you trying to kill your poor old MomMom? Oy, Sarah. You little meshugah with your shana punam. We need to find you a nice Jewish boy." Maybe I should be on Jewdate.com. I can still convert.
Anyway, all I'm saying is that these things are happening out of order and I'm a wee bit pissed aobut it. Rachel is getting engaged before me (I hear that's coming soon - now that fucking Brit is going to be my brother-in-law praise Jesus)? Jessica having a baby and getting married before me? ETHAN getting married??? What the hell is going ON? What have I been doing with myself? Oh, that's right. I moved OUT of the small, hick town and tried to have a life before I got married. Now, it looks like marriage is out. But I'm not so sure I want to get married anyway. And the truth is, even if my childhood sweetheart had asked me I'm pretty sure I would have said no. I loved him, don't get me wrong. I'll always love him. He's....well, he's him. But I had things I wanted to do. Places I wanted to go. So I probably would have asked him to wait for me or flat out refused. He wouldn't have waited, I would have cheated, so all in all it's worked out for the best. When I'm in a relationship I am faithful. I never cheated on any boyfriend and went almost six years devoted to Mark (who did not deserve that). I'm usually single though and then I have no ties to anyone and I can do what I like. Which I do. Once upon a time I did it frequently. I just have to get back into my - God, I don't want to say groove....be all Stella and shit - rhythm.
My whole life has been out-of-order so why should this be any different? Christ, I wish I could remember the Yiddish for that....used to say it damn near daily....manish tana.....FUCK. Now I have to look it up. But the translation is: why should this day be any different from any other day? Well, shit. It's one of the four questions from Passover....Why is this night different from all other nights.... Now I can't remember the phrase I want. I used to be such a good Jewish girl. MomMom would die. "What, are you trying to kill your poor old MomMom? Oy, Sarah. You little meshugah with your shana punam. We need to find you a nice Jewish boy." Maybe I should be on Jewdate.com. I can still convert.
Smoking
I can't quit. I tried. I really, really tried. I just like it. I know it stinks, makes you smell bad, is bad for your health. But there is something so satisfying about smoking a cigarette. I've stopped before - for as long as two years - but I always come back like it's an old friend. No one around me smokes anymore so they all HATE it passionately. I get pressure from all sides to quit but that just makes me want to smoke more.
If you're wondering, I just smoked thinking I had time to sneak one in and then I got busted. Didn't get yelled at but I could feel the condemnation pouring out. Christ, I'm 35 years old. Let me choose what I want to do to my body and keep your mouth shut (and your eyes silent!!!). Now I just want to smoke again.....Jesus.
If you're wondering, I just smoked thinking I had time to sneak one in and then I got busted. Didn't get yelled at but I could feel the condemnation pouring out. Christ, I'm 35 years old. Let me choose what I want to do to my body and keep your mouth shut (and your eyes silent!!!). Now I just want to smoke again.....Jesus.
Paula
It is ridiculously beautiful outside after yesterday's torrential downpour (which I missed because I was up north at Paula's house). I am down 15lbs today! I think I should celebrate....of course, all I want to do is eat tiramisu until I puke but I won't. Instead I ate scrambled eggs with mushroom salsa and a piece of that straight from hell grainy, low-carb flat bread. And vitamins.
Oh, and coffee, of course.
I actually slept like a baby last night. I have no idea why. Did some tossing and turning this morning but overall had a very good night sleep without the aid of a cocktail or seven, melatonin, or a sleeping pill. Now all I want to do today is get out!!! I want to go drive around aimlessly and get familiar with the city all over again. I wonder if Katie is home yet.....she promised me a happy hour and since she writes reviews for the Westword they pick up the tab. It's pretty nice. All we have to do is eat appetizers, drink cocktails, take some pictures, and talk. Maybe I should write reviews for the Westword....
I've taken a break from the man scene for the past couple of days. I just couldn't do it. Fucking idiots, all. Paula met someone nice though! I wish I could give you a snippet of sitting up on her bed while she tossed item after item of clothing out of her closet yelling from the depths "I have no clothes!!!!". Trust me, she has clothes. They were everywhere!! :) OMG then the Spanx. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Best show ever watching Paula pull on her Spanx. Then she had to change her bra to the one that didn't make noise. And the talk about waxing....holy shit. I almost peed my pants. She had to wear long jeans because she hadn't shaved her legs. Said her hoo ha was a jungle. Jesus. Tears. Tears to my eyes. Then she put on mama's new pair of shoes - platform, four inch, peep toed, red suede, sling-back pumps. She made me go down the stairs first in case she fell so I could catch her. It would have been a heap of heels and flip flops tattooed ankles and feet, with her ass in the air and me crushed underneath. Worth a picture!
I love Paula.
The end result was that she looked fabulous in her jeans and her tight top and her fuck me pumps. No one could tell that underneath the lipstick and perfume was a hairy bitch wearing a pair of Spanx. She texted me halfway through her date and said it was going well. She got home late and with a smile on her face so maybe there will be pedicures in my future before her next date.....I really need a pedicure. I really need a good date.
Oh, and coffee, of course.
I actually slept like a baby last night. I have no idea why. Did some tossing and turning this morning but overall had a very good night sleep without the aid of a cocktail or seven, melatonin, or a sleeping pill. Now all I want to do today is get out!!! I want to go drive around aimlessly and get familiar with the city all over again. I wonder if Katie is home yet.....she promised me a happy hour and since she writes reviews for the Westword they pick up the tab. It's pretty nice. All we have to do is eat appetizers, drink cocktails, take some pictures, and talk. Maybe I should write reviews for the Westword....
I've taken a break from the man scene for the past couple of days. I just couldn't do it. Fucking idiots, all. Paula met someone nice though! I wish I could give you a snippet of sitting up on her bed while she tossed item after item of clothing out of her closet yelling from the depths "I have no clothes!!!!". Trust me, she has clothes. They were everywhere!! :) OMG then the Spanx. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Best show ever watching Paula pull on her Spanx. Then she had to change her bra to the one that didn't make noise. And the talk about waxing....holy shit. I almost peed my pants. She had to wear long jeans because she hadn't shaved her legs. Said her hoo ha was a jungle. Jesus. Tears. Tears to my eyes. Then she put on mama's new pair of shoes - platform, four inch, peep toed, red suede, sling-back pumps. She made me go down the stairs first in case she fell so I could catch her. It would have been a heap of heels and flip flops tattooed ankles and feet, with her ass in the air and me crushed underneath. Worth a picture!
I love Paula.
The end result was that she looked fabulous in her jeans and her tight top and her fuck me pumps. No one could tell that underneath the lipstick and perfume was a hairy bitch wearing a pair of Spanx. She texted me halfway through her date and said it was going well. She got home late and with a smile on her face so maybe there will be pedicures in my future before her next date.....I really need a pedicure. I really need a good date.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Oh
And if you were wondering....no, I didn't go. I was too afraid I would cause a scene. Rip her hair out. Punch him. Something. So I didn't go. I worked that day instead. And I cried. A lot.
The Why, Why WHY?????
Last night I connected with a friend I haven't talked to in forever. Saw him briefly a couple of years ago but we haven't talked. We grew up together. Our families are intertwined. He was the boy who was supposed to grow up and marry me. My parents thought so. His parents thought so. And then he went away to college and met someone else. He came home that summer and I insisted that he have sex with me. We'd done everything but. We were partners in crime. I knew he was a virgin and I was a virgin (according to ME) and I just couldn't let someone else have that. It was mine. It had always been mine.
So we had sex with each other and it was the first time for either of us. It was wonderful and strange and awkward and bad. I wouldn't change my decision. It was exactly what sex your first time should be like. I wanted to stay on the bottom bunk of my littlle brothers bed forever. Then he invited me to his wedding. Yes, that's right. Mailed me a mother fucking invitation to his wedding. I'm STILL mad at him.
And he is still happily married. Happily. I asked. Has a child. Has a life.
Today I had my nails done and I told Jennifer I wanted them painted leave-your-wife pink.
Leave your wife. You were supposed to marry me.
So we had sex with each other and it was the first time for either of us. It was wonderful and strange and awkward and bad. I wouldn't change my decision. It was exactly what sex your first time should be like. I wanted to stay on the bottom bunk of my littlle brothers bed forever. Then he invited me to his wedding. Yes, that's right. Mailed me a mother fucking invitation to his wedding. I'm STILL mad at him.
And he is still happily married. Happily. I asked. Has a child. Has a life.
Today I had my nails done and I told Jennifer I wanted them painted leave-your-wife pink.
Leave your wife. You were supposed to marry me.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Zac
Enough being sad. My heart is bursting with joy today!! I am in love with Zachary Ryan Flinn! He is almost 21 inches long and he weighs 8 1/2 lbs. He is perfect and beautiful and I got to hold him in my arms and kiss his little tiny nose when he was barely an hour old. I can't wrap my mind around that fact that something as common as sex creates the most uncommon creatures.
Oh....and this is from Jono: All I want is to be with you Lord!
Christ.
Oh....and this is from Jono: All I want is to be with you Lord!
Christ.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Nobody
Nobody wants a wounded girl, like me. Nobody wants used, damaged merchandise. Nobody thinks about me late at night and wishes they could hold me. Nobody, nobody wants a girl like me.
Skies, Skies, SKIES
I sprawled out on the patio again tonight just to look at the sky. This time, I knew I couldn't touch the clouds so this time, I never even tried. I watched them change color and shape and begged, begged, BEGGED to be up there. Please, please just wrap me up inside you so I never feel anything but bliss. And they shifted and changed and left me down here, on earth.
I cannot describe the pain. I cannot describe the agony. I hurt.
It makes me so angry that so many people cannot deal with the fact that bad things have happened in your life. They all say "get over it". I cannot get over it. I cannot get over it. I can't do it. I wish I could. I want to. I would like nothing more than to forget. I can't forget. Sure, you can all feel empathy/sympathy/heartache for that little girl on the news who was molested. You can all feel outrage for that little stranger child.
I'm not on the news. I'm not a stranger. I can't have CHILDREN. I have to see him all the time. I wake up every single day knowing. Knowing. Please, sky. Please. Just this once.
I cannot describe the pain. I cannot describe the agony. I hurt.
It makes me so angry that so many people cannot deal with the fact that bad things have happened in your life. They all say "get over it". I cannot get over it. I cannot get over it. I can't do it. I wish I could. I want to. I would like nothing more than to forget. I can't forget. Sure, you can all feel empathy/sympathy/heartache for that little girl on the news who was molested. You can all feel outrage for that little stranger child.
I'm not on the news. I'm not a stranger. I can't have CHILDREN. I have to see him all the time. I wake up every single day knowing. Knowing. Please, sky. Please. Just this once.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
New Additions and Angry Monkeys
Well, my sister is in the hospital to have her first child. I still haven't had a child. I would feel worse but Ben hasn't had a child either and he's between me and Jessi in birth order....I don't know. It just makes me feel better than I'm not the only one who hasn't produced an heir. She probably won't have him until morning sometime. I'm so excited I can barely stand it. By luck or circumstance, I am here to witness his first moments of life. Two months ago I wouldn't have thought it possible.
And everywhere I look there is Chris. I'm not even kidding. What kind of cruel fucking joke is the Universe playing on me? I mean, it's just not NICE. Last night, even when I was in someone else's company, I went to my laptop and there he was - Sarah, Christopher has used friend finder to find friends. Find your friends today!" Mother fucker. Even if dude had made a move on me I never would have done anything. I couldn't. I was thinking about Chris. Then I just checked fb to see what was up and there his FACE was in a pic with his brother. I'm so PISSED I can't stand it!! I decide (not that I was getting anything I wanted anyway or that anything was being accomplished) to stop thinking about him altogether and he's fucking EVERYWHERE! I wanted to tell him how cute he and his brother were but I'm not bugging him so I didn't. (FUCK - I forgot I invited him to read this....well, let's be honest....I'm sure he's NOT).
The biggest fucking issue for me with Chris, the MOST frustrating, is that he's from my before-life. He's from when I knew who I was and what I wanted. He's not a monster. I don't have to be scared of him. I don't have to look for the bad. There never was any bad. So while I'm desperate to feel better after the shit I've been through, I'm fucking locked UP when it comes to new people. And they are all LIARS. I can't even begin to trust someone. I listen and every word is a lie, a lie, a fucking lie. I blew any chance I had of a friendship with Chris by being too fucking needy and insistent and demanding and weird. I know I did it. I knew I was doing it. I couldn't stop myself. Don't know why. I just couldn't stop myself. I wanted to feel better so badly. But, as I fucking already know, the only person who can make me feel better is me. It's just a process getting there. Now I'm in the process and I'm feeling better and I'm finding my footing on even ground and I FUCKING BLEW IT.
I love my car. It's SO my car. She's perfect for me. I drove her out tonight for no reason, just to play my ipod and sing my heart out, and we're already old friends. I have to get her. I won't name her until the contract is signed.
I don't want to see/meet another person. And yet, if I don't, I will be right back where I was. I have to do this to rid myself of all the shit that's hanging off me like funereal garland. I can't expect to meet anyone of value while I'm still feeling this way even a little bit. But if I don't continue to try I'll never get better. And I AM getting better. For five years I put up with far less than I deserved. Today, it's only taking me a couple of days to weed out the pieces of shit being flung my way by some angry monkey god. Okay, angry monkey god, enough shit already!!
I have self-doubt, I have self-pity, I have fears....but I also have courage, hope, and the very beginnings of a new, deeper strength than I have ever had before. If the Universe would just cooperate and stop throwing Chris in my face.....Yeah, I know, I'm a fuck-up. I'm doing the best that I can. Every day. And know this, every BREATH is a struggle for me. Sometimes I can't even breathe at all it hurts SO bad. So I'm pretty fucking proud of myself right now....despite, well, all the rest.
And everywhere I look there is Chris. I'm not even kidding. What kind of cruel fucking joke is the Universe playing on me? I mean, it's just not NICE. Last night, even when I was in someone else's company, I went to my laptop and there he was - Sarah, Christopher has used friend finder to find friends. Find your friends today!" Mother fucker. Even if dude had made a move on me I never would have done anything. I couldn't. I was thinking about Chris. Then I just checked fb to see what was up and there his FACE was in a pic with his brother. I'm so PISSED I can't stand it!! I decide (not that I was getting anything I wanted anyway or that anything was being accomplished) to stop thinking about him altogether and he's fucking EVERYWHERE! I wanted to tell him how cute he and his brother were but I'm not bugging him so I didn't. (FUCK - I forgot I invited him to read this....well, let's be honest....I'm sure he's NOT).
The biggest fucking issue for me with Chris, the MOST frustrating, is that he's from my before-life. He's from when I knew who I was and what I wanted. He's not a monster. I don't have to be scared of him. I don't have to look for the bad. There never was any bad. So while I'm desperate to feel better after the shit I've been through, I'm fucking locked UP when it comes to new people. And they are all LIARS. I can't even begin to trust someone. I listen and every word is a lie, a lie, a fucking lie. I blew any chance I had of a friendship with Chris by being too fucking needy and insistent and demanding and weird. I know I did it. I knew I was doing it. I couldn't stop myself. Don't know why. I just couldn't stop myself. I wanted to feel better so badly. But, as I fucking already know, the only person who can make me feel better is me. It's just a process getting there. Now I'm in the process and I'm feeling better and I'm finding my footing on even ground and I FUCKING BLEW IT.
I love my car. It's SO my car. She's perfect for me. I drove her out tonight for no reason, just to play my ipod and sing my heart out, and we're already old friends. I have to get her. I won't name her until the contract is signed.
I don't want to see/meet another person. And yet, if I don't, I will be right back where I was. I have to do this to rid myself of all the shit that's hanging off me like funereal garland. I can't expect to meet anyone of value while I'm still feeling this way even a little bit. But if I don't continue to try I'll never get better. And I AM getting better. For five years I put up with far less than I deserved. Today, it's only taking me a couple of days to weed out the pieces of shit being flung my way by some angry monkey god. Okay, angry monkey god, enough shit already!!
I have self-doubt, I have self-pity, I have fears....but I also have courage, hope, and the very beginnings of a new, deeper strength than I have ever had before. If the Universe would just cooperate and stop throwing Chris in my face.....Yeah, I know, I'm a fuck-up. I'm doing the best that I can. Every day. And know this, every BREATH is a struggle for me. Sometimes I can't even breathe at all it hurts SO bad. So I'm pretty fucking proud of myself right now....despite, well, all the rest.
Jaded
I realized last night that I can no longer believe a word a man says. Nothing bad happened. Everything was great. I just listened to him talk and thought, Christ, someone has the perfect game for me. If there was a guidebook for what to say to a woman, everything he said would have been next to my picture. And then to be told he wasn't going to make a move on me just to prove it. Then he didn't. So I know he's a fucking liar and he's full of shit.
Or maybe he's not and I'm just too jaded to know the difference. Every man I see looks like a host for something potentially evil and horrific. I don't look to see what good is in him, so much as I look for the bad, for the early warning signs, for the monster beneath the surface. I see men as a threat and the one thing from which I want comfort the most desperately. But how can I crawl in bed with another monster? Isn't it only a matter of time? How do I make sure I'm not being lied to? I'm completely freaked out right now.
I can't possibly have met a nice guy who thinks I'm smart and funny and cute. I cannot possibly have met someone who seriously enjoys talking with me, debating politics, discussing the new world order just past the horizon. He sang Hotel California, was able to reference Paul Simon, understood quantum physics, watched a show on the History Channel that HE chose and didn't tell me to turn it off..... Obviously, there has to be something wrong with him (besides the fact that he's built so much like my little brother Josh - all muscle and no neck). Well, he's short and I like tall. He believes in some sort of God so that's a problem. Give me time, I'll find more. He said I was building walls when I should be building bridges and I laughed so hard I snorted. That's a good one - I hadn't heard that one yet. He kept telling me he was serious but I don't know how long it will take for me to believe that.
In fact, I probably shouldn't see him again. Too risky. Yeah. I won't see him again. Of course, it probably really was all bullshit and I'll never see him again anyway. Fuck. I'm a skosh bitter. Whattdya know?
Or maybe he's not and I'm just too jaded to know the difference. Every man I see looks like a host for something potentially evil and horrific. I don't look to see what good is in him, so much as I look for the bad, for the early warning signs, for the monster beneath the surface. I see men as a threat and the one thing from which I want comfort the most desperately. But how can I crawl in bed with another monster? Isn't it only a matter of time? How do I make sure I'm not being lied to? I'm completely freaked out right now.
I can't possibly have met a nice guy who thinks I'm smart and funny and cute. I cannot possibly have met someone who seriously enjoys talking with me, debating politics, discussing the new world order just past the horizon. He sang Hotel California, was able to reference Paul Simon, understood quantum physics, watched a show on the History Channel that HE chose and didn't tell me to turn it off..... Obviously, there has to be something wrong with him (besides the fact that he's built so much like my little brother Josh - all muscle and no neck). Well, he's short and I like tall. He believes in some sort of God so that's a problem. Give me time, I'll find more. He said I was building walls when I should be building bridges and I laughed so hard I snorted. That's a good one - I hadn't heard that one yet. He kept telling me he was serious but I don't know how long it will take for me to believe that.
In fact, I probably shouldn't see him again. Too risky. Yeah. I won't see him again. Of course, it probably really was all bullshit and I'll never see him again anyway. Fuck. I'm a skosh bitter. Whattdya know?
Jesus, Please
Jono's latest Brit psycho Jesus lovin' post: "Second TV show I've watched this week where the "Christian" is some sort of serial killer. If this is the image the world is getting of us, we are in trouble!"
So....last night I talked to someone I really like. He's not creepy, he's not fucked up (far as I know), he's incredibly smart and well-rounded, and overall a really nice guy. Nothing bizarre happened. No weird sexual nonsense. Just hours of great conversation. He's from Jersey (I hate Jersey). We had Philly and New York in common. Jersey too though I'll never admit it. Shit, just did. It was great to talk to someone about the old neighborhood - someone who actually knew places I knew - places that are worlds away from me right now. I was right back in South Philly walkin' around in birkenstocks shopping for groceries at the Italian Market (yes, the one from Rocky). I worked for Penn PIRG again (my cute little activist self - she was awesome). I'm starting to remember who I am. I've had amnesia for five long years and it's starting to come back to me in flashes. I feel stronger every day. Closer to me. Like we're bonding again and forgiving each other. I know, crazy talk, but it's the truth and I don't know how else to describe it. He asked me if I was Jewish. I said I was a bit of a JAP. Then he said "don't take this the wrong way" - which means there's no other way to take it - "but has anybody ever told you you remind them of Bette Midler?" Jesus. Only most of my life. So I remind him of a curly red-headed loud mouthed singing Jew. OY.
Went for a test drive in the Lexus that will soon be mine. Loved it. Took the boys out to Parker to play on the land (God I hope they don't start a fire). Jessica will be induced in six hours. I'm exhausted.
Oh, and I haven't bugged Chris once. Go me!
So....last night I talked to someone I really like. He's not creepy, he's not fucked up (far as I know), he's incredibly smart and well-rounded, and overall a really nice guy. Nothing bizarre happened. No weird sexual nonsense. Just hours of great conversation. He's from Jersey (I hate Jersey). We had Philly and New York in common. Jersey too though I'll never admit it. Shit, just did. It was great to talk to someone about the old neighborhood - someone who actually knew places I knew - places that are worlds away from me right now. I was right back in South Philly walkin' around in birkenstocks shopping for groceries at the Italian Market (yes, the one from Rocky). I worked for Penn PIRG again (my cute little activist self - she was awesome). I'm starting to remember who I am. I've had amnesia for five long years and it's starting to come back to me in flashes. I feel stronger every day. Closer to me. Like we're bonding again and forgiving each other. I know, crazy talk, but it's the truth and I don't know how else to describe it. He asked me if I was Jewish. I said I was a bit of a JAP. Then he said "don't take this the wrong way" - which means there's no other way to take it - "but has anybody ever told you you remind them of Bette Midler?" Jesus. Only most of my life. So I remind him of a curly red-headed loud mouthed singing Jew. OY.
Went for a test drive in the Lexus that will soon be mine. Loved it. Took the boys out to Parker to play on the land (God I hope they don't start a fire). Jessica will be induced in six hours. I'm exhausted.
Oh, and I haven't bugged Chris once. Go me!
Monday, July 26, 2010
Stalker
Officially quit stalking Chris. I don't think he liked it. Go figure. Maybe my witty charm and sparkling personality will bring him around again....but obviously my demanding, in-your-face, Veruca Salt (I want it and I want it now!!!) attitude is the WRONG approach.
Never would have guessed.... Now where the FUCK is my golden ticket?
Never would have guessed.... Now where the FUCK is my golden ticket?
Fucking Dumb ASS
So that jackass IM seducer moron asshole??? Yeah, he's not funny anymore.... this is what I went through moments ago before blocking the stupid fuck. My thoughts are in parenthesis.
Him: so do you want to see me tonight?
Me: omg - idk. i just started my work day. i don't know what you're doing today but i'm planning a video shoot in france. i'm up to my eyeballs in film permits, locations, police permits, and french people i can't fucking UNDERSTAND. soo...i'm nowhere near planning my evening yet, i'm sorry.
Him: ok but do you want to see me tonight? we could have some fun. (is he fucking stupid?)
Me: i'm not desperate for sex.
Him: sex is good. it's okay if you don't want it. hello?
Me: i'd just like to get to know someone first. we talked about this.
Him: come on talk to me. maybe we can kick it tonight (and btw - i'm correcting his atrocious spelling) . sure let's meet and get to know each other babe (mother fucker, what? ) hello?
Me: hi, i'm sorry. i'm working.
Him: do you want to kick it tonight? (JEEEEESSSSUUUUUSSS)
Me: i told you. i'm not even close to being able to plan my evening. i need an update on my sister. i'm not hanging out with anyone over missing the birth of my nephew....i'm also working. i have to take my boss to the airport around three to pick up the escalade and drive it home. i can let you know after that.
Him: sure then we can kick it....do you like to drink? what time you want to come over? we can rent a movie and watch it while we're drinking. so what time you want to come over?
(anyone? anyone at all want to rip his face off like i do?)
Me: look this isn't working for me. obviously we are very different people. i do not want to "kick it" with you. i won't be spending the night. thanks for your interest. sorry, it's not going to work out. now i'm busy. have a great day. (pretty clear, right? fuck off is the vibe i wanted to send)
Him: goodbye sexy. let me know what time you want to kick it.
Me: OMFG!! i do NOT want to "kick it"!!!!
and BLOCKED. I truly cannot comprehend how STUPID you must be not to get that I think you're STUPID. And what the fuck is with "kick it"????? Ugh! So Paula, what are you doing tonight???? Wanna "kick it"?
Him: so do you want to see me tonight?
Me: omg - idk. i just started my work day. i don't know what you're doing today but i'm planning a video shoot in france. i'm up to my eyeballs in film permits, locations, police permits, and french people i can't fucking UNDERSTAND. soo...i'm nowhere near planning my evening yet, i'm sorry.
Him: ok but do you want to see me tonight? we could have some fun. (is he fucking stupid?)
Me: i'm not desperate for sex.
Him: sex is good. it's okay if you don't want it. hello?
Me: i'd just like to get to know someone first. we talked about this.
Him: come on talk to me. maybe we can kick it tonight (and btw - i'm correcting his atrocious spelling) . sure let's meet and get to know each other babe (mother fucker, what? ) hello?
Me: hi, i'm sorry. i'm working.
Him: do you want to kick it tonight? (JEEEEESSSSUUUUUSSS)
Me: i told you. i'm not even close to being able to plan my evening. i need an update on my sister. i'm not hanging out with anyone over missing the birth of my nephew....i'm also working. i have to take my boss to the airport around three to pick up the escalade and drive it home. i can let you know after that.
Him: sure then we can kick it....do you like to drink? what time you want to come over? we can rent a movie and watch it while we're drinking. so what time you want to come over?
(anyone? anyone at all want to rip his face off like i do?)
Me: look this isn't working for me. obviously we are very different people. i do not want to "kick it" with you. i won't be spending the night. thanks for your interest. sorry, it's not going to work out. now i'm busy. have a great day. (pretty clear, right? fuck off is the vibe i wanted to send)
Him: goodbye sexy. let me know what time you want to kick it.
Me: OMFG!! i do NOT want to "kick it"!!!!
and BLOCKED. I truly cannot comprehend how STUPID you must be not to get that I think you're STUPID. And what the fuck is with "kick it"????? Ugh! So Paula, what are you doing tonight???? Wanna "kick it"?
Sunday, July 25, 2010
I Swear to God
Just so you know I'm not making this stuff up....this just appeared on my facebook: Jono M....: Another Sunday means another episode of Top Gear plus a nice cup of tea = Shear Bliss!
Okay? At least he didn't add a praise Jesus.
Okay? At least he didn't add a praise Jesus.
Brits who Love Jesus
I hate my sister's boyfriend. He's SOOOO annoying. I should have never added him to facebook and now I have to hear him loving Jesus and being British on a daily basis. And he always wants to chat with me. What are we going to chat about??? I'm an atheist. I don't want to hear about him banging my little sister (or not banging because Jesus wouldn't do that). I don't care what lame Brit TV show he's watching or how many times of day he has a spot of tea. His name is Jono for God's sake and it's short for...,.I kid you not....Jonathan. Perhaps I'm just being a bitch because I'm sick of the "Yaweh, Yaweh" shit (and who SAYS that???). Maybe I'm just jealous that my sister, who's bad relationship history rivals mine (she fell in love with a married man who had a small penis - talk about lose/lose), has finally found someone to love who loves her. Or I could just be feeling snarky in general and have nothing good to say about anyone.
He also can't spell. Drives me crazy. How are you a grown man and you can't spell!? I would be mortified. I once worried an entire weekend that I misspelled collectibles in an email (it can be spelled two ways: collectibles or collectables - yeah, I looked it up) and made myself look like an ass to someone as hung up on grammar and spelling as I am. It still bothers me a little because I don't know if she's aware it can be spelled two ways or if she still thinks I'm an idiot.
So tonight I've been invited out by some Caribbean boy who is a teacher and seems quite nice....but my first bad relationship was with a Caribbean boy who needed a teacher and seemed quite nice. So I'm thinking no. But I'm also being IM seduced by some jackass who swears once I see his penis - his magical, miraculous dick - that I'll lose my shit. No, I'm not going to fuck you. I told you I wasn't going to fuck you. You can stop IMing me anytime. I'd block him but his level of depseration and mock confidence is actually amusing. "hey, sexy. I love to shower my woman. I'm so horny." WTF? No! Michelle and I were just talking about this yesterday (and btw - she is not happy about me making a new friend who happens to be female and happens to be black - she's says I'm replacing her.....you can never be replaced, Michelle! No one has tits like you do....have you considered porn?? I mean, really, those things are huge....I thought mine were big but holy hell). Plus Michelle has seen me through many of my darkest hours and always with a big smile, dimples, and a hug. Okay, sometimes a bowl and a beer but whatever. Details. Anyway, I digress.....we were talking about men and how essentially they're all the same and they just want to fuck you. Doesn't really matter what you look like or if they even like you or not - they just want to have sex. Sometimes that's okay - I mean, sometimes that's all you need. I need more than that. I don't have any respect for a person who doesn't care to get to know you or care about you but still wants to put his dick in your vagina....or your mouth.,.. And Jesus CHRIST don't call me baby or sweetie or angel. I'm none of those things to you and I'd prefer if you didn't violate me in that manner. It feels weird. Stop it.
So here I sit, coffee in hand, screaming at the dogs who refuse to stop barking, blogging yet again about my boring existence and wondering if I'm ever going to figure it out.
He also can't spell. Drives me crazy. How are you a grown man and you can't spell!? I would be mortified. I once worried an entire weekend that I misspelled collectibles in an email (it can be spelled two ways: collectibles or collectables - yeah, I looked it up) and made myself look like an ass to someone as hung up on grammar and spelling as I am. It still bothers me a little because I don't know if she's aware it can be spelled two ways or if she still thinks I'm an idiot.
So tonight I've been invited out by some Caribbean boy who is a teacher and seems quite nice....but my first bad relationship was with a Caribbean boy who needed a teacher and seemed quite nice. So I'm thinking no. But I'm also being IM seduced by some jackass who swears once I see his penis - his magical, miraculous dick - that I'll lose my shit. No, I'm not going to fuck you. I told you I wasn't going to fuck you. You can stop IMing me anytime. I'd block him but his level of depseration and mock confidence is actually amusing. "hey, sexy. I love to shower my woman. I'm so horny." WTF? No! Michelle and I were just talking about this yesterday (and btw - she is not happy about me making a new friend who happens to be female and happens to be black - she's says I'm replacing her.....you can never be replaced, Michelle! No one has tits like you do....have you considered porn?? I mean, really, those things are huge....I thought mine were big but holy hell). Plus Michelle has seen me through many of my darkest hours and always with a big smile, dimples, and a hug. Okay, sometimes a bowl and a beer but whatever. Details. Anyway, I digress.....we were talking about men and how essentially they're all the same and they just want to fuck you. Doesn't really matter what you look like or if they even like you or not - they just want to have sex. Sometimes that's okay - I mean, sometimes that's all you need. I need more than that. I don't have any respect for a person who doesn't care to get to know you or care about you but still wants to put his dick in your vagina....or your mouth.,.. And Jesus CHRIST don't call me baby or sweetie or angel. I'm none of those things to you and I'd prefer if you didn't violate me in that manner. It feels weird. Stop it.
So here I sit, coffee in hand, screaming at the dogs who refuse to stop barking, blogging yet again about my boring existence and wondering if I'm ever going to figure it out.
Sunday Morning
I kept my promise to myself. I did not get sad last night! Progress!! Instead, I watched two movies - both romantic comedies - and wanted to chuck the remote at the TV. Stupid! It never works out that way. Nothing is ever that simple. Oh, they try to make it like they're going through rough spots and the road to love is bumpy but in the end everyone gets the one they love - or someone even better - and all is well.
So what happens in two years when they can't stand the sight of each other? When they do things to hurt the other one on a daily basis? When he stops telling her she's beautiful and she believes him? What happens then?
Cue music - new movie: drama. Well, in my case, slasher.
I stayed awake until my body gave out. Couldn't face going to bed. Then I woke up at 7 and thought I'd slept the entire day away - I was that tired. Sleep is so elusive. I hate it. It's the one time that everything shuts down, shuts off, and unless I have some crazy dream, all is nothing for a little while. I don't feel anything. It's amazing. I'd kinda like to sleep for a couple of years and wake up different, new, refreshed. I think I'm depressed. OY! Maybe I should call my therapist and get her to counsel me for free over the phone. She loved me. She would do it. She's cancelled whole group sessions and had someone else run them just so she could spend the hour talking me through something. Actually, that's sad. Probably means they saw me as a risk. I'm not calling her.
I hate being this sappy, wounded, emotional little bitch. I gotta learn to fake it better.
My pants are way too big. All of my pants are too big. I should be happier about this but I feel like I'm walking around in the world in clown pants. It's not a good place to be.
So what happens in two years when they can't stand the sight of each other? When they do things to hurt the other one on a daily basis? When he stops telling her she's beautiful and she believes him? What happens then?
Cue music - new movie: drama. Well, in my case, slasher.
I stayed awake until my body gave out. Couldn't face going to bed. Then I woke up at 7 and thought I'd slept the entire day away - I was that tired. Sleep is so elusive. I hate it. It's the one time that everything shuts down, shuts off, and unless I have some crazy dream, all is nothing for a little while. I don't feel anything. It's amazing. I'd kinda like to sleep for a couple of years and wake up different, new, refreshed. I think I'm depressed. OY! Maybe I should call my therapist and get her to counsel me for free over the phone. She loved me. She would do it. She's cancelled whole group sessions and had someone else run them just so she could spend the hour talking me through something. Actually, that's sad. Probably means they saw me as a risk. I'm not calling her.
I hate being this sappy, wounded, emotional little bitch. I gotta learn to fake it better.
My pants are way too big. All of my pants are too big. I should be happier about this but I feel like I'm walking around in the world in clown pants. It's not a good place to be.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
AAARRGGGHHHH!!!
I'm so bored. I'm so bored. I'm so bored. I'm so bored.
Poop.
I guess it's back to playing the piano..... *sigh*
Poop.
I guess it's back to playing the piano..... *sigh*
Twilight
It's 8:17 PM and the sun is finally setting. It's absolutely gorgeous outside. I think perhaps tonight is a firepit night...
I just talked to Michelle. I miss her so much. Sushi and crab legs at Ming's...mmmmmmm I'd really like to have sushi for dinner. Sounds fantastic. Last night I saw a show about naked sushi. This chick hired a Japanese girl to surprise her boyfriend. I would never do that. Are you frickin kidding me? Here, honey, eat sushi off the hot naked Japanese girl. You know, I just realized I haven't been eating lately. That's really bad for me, isn't it? I suppose I should make something for dinner.
I will not get sad tonight. I will not get sad. I will not.
I just talked to Michelle. I miss her so much. Sushi and crab legs at Ming's...mmmmmmm I'd really like to have sushi for dinner. Sounds fantastic. Last night I saw a show about naked sushi. This chick hired a Japanese girl to surprise her boyfriend. I would never do that. Are you frickin kidding me? Here, honey, eat sushi off the hot naked Japanese girl. You know, I just realized I haven't been eating lately. That's really bad for me, isn't it? I suppose I should make something for dinner.
I will not get sad tonight. I will not get sad. I will not.
Boys are Stupid
That's all. Boys are stupid. The one you want to see is too busy for you and the other ones are lame. I still like getting laid.
Stupid boys.
Stupid boys.
Random Nothingness
so.....obviously, I'm bored. It is now 6:50 AM.....still awake....
I've just realized this isn't a private journal and somebody out there who loves me is reading this... I feel naked.
At the same time I feel all warm and fuzzy because somebody out there who loves me is reading this.
Feeling reckless and casual. See how quickly I change? I like feeling reckless. Perhaps that's my problem.
I've just realized this isn't a private journal and somebody out there who loves me is reading this... I feel naked.
At the same time I feel all warm and fuzzy because somebody out there who loves me is reading this.
Feeling reckless and casual. See how quickly I change? I like feeling reckless. Perhaps that's my problem.
Puppy Love
Dogs are amazing. Here I am, feeling sorry for myself, and I'm surrounded by dogs who adore me. My dog follows my every step. Literally. She is always right next to me. Never needs alone time. And Tripper - the golden retriever - wants to marry me. He looks longingly into my eyes with his toy in his mouth and I can hear him thinking like the dog in Up "I love you. I just met you and I love you. Squirrel!"
He stared at me the whole time I took a bubble bath. Walked right up and licked soapy water off my arm. He's an idiot.
He stared at me the whole time I took a bubble bath. Walked right up and licked soapy water off my arm. He's an idiot.
Daybreak
It's 5:40 AM. I've been awake since 3. It's quiet. No one is up yet. I feel all alone in a great big world. I've been thinking that this alone thing is good and terrible. Left to my own devices I feel I'm doing nothing but destruction. Kelli invited me out last night and I couldn't go. I wish I could have. She's my first new friend. She even likes my hair. No one could possibly like my hair. Again I say: stupid curls.
If I had tons of money I think I would get a weave. Nah, I'd just rip it out.
The sky is pretty. Clouds everywhere, gray, but behind them there are splashes of bright blue morning sky. I want to be bright blue. Pandora, anyone? I see you.
So I've been thinking about Mark. About the damage he has done. I'm getting really angry about it. My therapist would be proud. Thinking about her a lot too. And the women from my group. I remember the day she made us say no. She made us say it louder and louder and finally, stand up and shout it. I sobbed. Completely broke down. I felt imminent danger. Terror. Pain. And then I think about what Mark did to me. I think about him choking me and calling me a stupid fucking cunt. I think about the night he grabbed my face and ripped off skin and shoved me into the pavement. I think about bleeding on my pillow and not being able to breathe because my nose was full of blood. And I stayed. I actually thought he loved me and that would be okay. I would be okay. At least someone loved me. At least I wasn't alone.
I'd choose alone over that any day. Well, this day.
I think about the night he broke a chair over me. Hit me with it and it broke like a movie prop. Only it wasn't a prop. And it hurt. He held scissors next to my eye and said he was going to stab me, he was going to kill me. I felt absent. I watched it happen to this poor, sad girl but never once realized that she was me.
Well, hell. I've made myself cry.
My whole body is consumed by pain right now. Every single cell is screaming. How do I get over that? How will I ever believe in myself again? Trust myself? Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I still deserve it. Maybe I am a stupid fucking cunt. I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe.
Why does your body insist on living? Why can't you just lie down and have peace? Why can't I have peace?? What did I do? What horrible sin am I being punished for? I just ended a sentence in a preposition. I'm going to hell.
My sister Angie hates me. When I left she said she didn't care that I was leaving, she never talked to me anyway. She screamed at me. She hurt me. I still can't talk to her. I see her post on something on facebook and feel wounded every time. She's my sister. I know she doesn't understand me but it shouldn't matter. She should love me anyway. How bad of a person am I that my own sister hates me?
By the way, I am drug free. Totally. Could actually pass a drug test. Can you believe that?? And you know what I want more than anything?
Love.
Gotcha. I bet you thought I was going to say drugs.
If I had tons of money I think I would get a weave. Nah, I'd just rip it out.
The sky is pretty. Clouds everywhere, gray, but behind them there are splashes of bright blue morning sky. I want to be bright blue. Pandora, anyone? I see you.
So I've been thinking about Mark. About the damage he has done. I'm getting really angry about it. My therapist would be proud. Thinking about her a lot too. And the women from my group. I remember the day she made us say no. She made us say it louder and louder and finally, stand up and shout it. I sobbed. Completely broke down. I felt imminent danger. Terror. Pain. And then I think about what Mark did to me. I think about him choking me and calling me a stupid fucking cunt. I think about the night he grabbed my face and ripped off skin and shoved me into the pavement. I think about bleeding on my pillow and not being able to breathe because my nose was full of blood. And I stayed. I actually thought he loved me and that would be okay. I would be okay. At least someone loved me. At least I wasn't alone.
I'd choose alone over that any day. Well, this day.
I think about the night he broke a chair over me. Hit me with it and it broke like a movie prop. Only it wasn't a prop. And it hurt. He held scissors next to my eye and said he was going to stab me, he was going to kill me. I felt absent. I watched it happen to this poor, sad girl but never once realized that she was me.
Well, hell. I've made myself cry.
My whole body is consumed by pain right now. Every single cell is screaming. How do I get over that? How will I ever believe in myself again? Trust myself? Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I still deserve it. Maybe I am a stupid fucking cunt. I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe.
Why does your body insist on living? Why can't you just lie down and have peace? Why can't I have peace?? What did I do? What horrible sin am I being punished for? I just ended a sentence in a preposition. I'm going to hell.
My sister Angie hates me. When I left she said she didn't care that I was leaving, she never talked to me anyway. She screamed at me. She hurt me. I still can't talk to her. I see her post on something on facebook and feel wounded every time. She's my sister. I know she doesn't understand me but it shouldn't matter. She should love me anyway. How bad of a person am I that my own sister hates me?
By the way, I am drug free. Totally. Could actually pass a drug test. Can you believe that?? And you know what I want more than anything?
Love.
Gotcha. I bet you thought I was going to say drugs.
Regrets
There are so many things I regret. I know, you're never supposed to admit that. True fucking story. Sometimes I am flooded with regret. I had the best bubble bath of all time tonight. Fantastic. Never thought a bath could make me feel so good. I might take another one just because I can. Yeah, I will!
Then I made Chris mad. Not that I care so much - he needs to be shaken up a little bit. I have a feeling he's in need of some Sarah in his life. He'll come around. I'm just so incredibly lonely. It's strange to go from a place where you lived with someone and saw this person every single day, shared every intimate detail of your life with this person and then he's gone. That suddenly. If I have a nightmare there is no one there to wake me up. If I need tampons there's no one to send to get them. If my back itches I got nothin. But I don't miss him. I miss someone. It's difficult to adjust to life alone. Being single again is not coming to me easily. I have the urge to be completely wanton and promiscuous. But then I don't want to. Why should I let that random guy have sex with me? You have to be something amazing to have sex with me. I can't lower my standards just because I'm sad. Which is why it's really important that Chris talks to me... No lowering of standards there. I liked him ten years ago. Still like him now.
I keep fucking everything up. On a daily basis. I cannot find myself. Everything is new and different and the same and stagnant. I don't feel that I make choices so much as that I am a slave to my whim. I feel like I have no control over what Sarah does and I'm just sitting back watching the train wreck. How can one be so disconnected from oneself? I don't know who she is. I'm a little scared of her. I certainly don't think I can tell her what to do. She might kill me. It's like the part of me that I sacrificed for "love" is really, REALLY pissed and she's not going to let me hurt her again. She's going to destroy everything in her path and tell me to go fuck myself.
This is some kind of psychological disorder, isn't it? Am I like Sybil?
Dawn is breaking and I'm not tired. I still can't sleep. I can never sleep. I am irrationally scared of everything. I desperately want to tuck my head against someone's chest (Michelle, yours is amply proportioned for comfort) and be held like a child and told over and over and over again that everything is going to be alright. Everything is going to be fine. You are safe. You are loved. You are strong. You are capable. You are amazing.
You are beautiful.
Then I made Chris mad. Not that I care so much - he needs to be shaken up a little bit. I have a feeling he's in need of some Sarah in his life. He'll come around. I'm just so incredibly lonely. It's strange to go from a place where you lived with someone and saw this person every single day, shared every intimate detail of your life with this person and then he's gone. That suddenly. If I have a nightmare there is no one there to wake me up. If I need tampons there's no one to send to get them. If my back itches I got nothin. But I don't miss him. I miss someone. It's difficult to adjust to life alone. Being single again is not coming to me easily. I have the urge to be completely wanton and promiscuous. But then I don't want to. Why should I let that random guy have sex with me? You have to be something amazing to have sex with me. I can't lower my standards just because I'm sad. Which is why it's really important that Chris talks to me... No lowering of standards there. I liked him ten years ago. Still like him now.
I keep fucking everything up. On a daily basis. I cannot find myself. Everything is new and different and the same and stagnant. I don't feel that I make choices so much as that I am a slave to my whim. I feel like I have no control over what Sarah does and I'm just sitting back watching the train wreck. How can one be so disconnected from oneself? I don't know who she is. I'm a little scared of her. I certainly don't think I can tell her what to do. She might kill me. It's like the part of me that I sacrificed for "love" is really, REALLY pissed and she's not going to let me hurt her again. She's going to destroy everything in her path and tell me to go fuck myself.
This is some kind of psychological disorder, isn't it? Am I like Sybil?
Dawn is breaking and I'm not tired. I still can't sleep. I can never sleep. I am irrationally scared of everything. I desperately want to tuck my head against someone's chest (Michelle, yours is amply proportioned for comfort) and be held like a child and told over and over and over again that everything is going to be alright. Everything is going to be fine. You are safe. You are loved. You are strong. You are capable. You are amazing.
You are beautiful.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Front Porches and Chardonnay
Yesterday, I played hookie. I left the house at three in the afternoon, turned my cell on vibrate, set the ipod to shuffle, and went for a drive with the windows down. I wound up at Paula's house. I didn't tell anyone where I was going or how long I would be gone and it was fantastic. I cheated on my diet with no remorse! Then I got to spend hours sitting on the front porch drinking wine and seeing double rainbows. There really was a double rainbow, I wasn't drunk.
Our laughter brought a man from a neighboring house over to see what we were doing. He asked to join us so we let him. He was....interesting. I know two major details of his personal life: he's diabetic and he's bipolar. I don't really consider that gettin' to know ya conversation but it takes all types, I guess. Paula kept eating cinnamon sticks and saying "I just don't understand it. Why am I fat?" I laughed so much last night just sitting on her front porch - it feels like I did crunches for an hour. But I didn't. I skipped the gym yesterday. HA!
All the best laid plans of mice and men....
So this day I am all alone. I have a whole weekend with nothing really planned and no one to whom I am accountable. I think I just might sit and enjoy the firepit in the back yard alone and be happy about it. I might take a really long, delicious bubble bath in the giant bathtub. This bathtub is so big I'm not even kidding - my feet don't reach the end and sometimes I slide under the water. Stupid short legs.
Yeah, and Ryan drew not one, but TWO penises on me.
Our laughter brought a man from a neighboring house over to see what we were doing. He asked to join us so we let him. He was....interesting. I know two major details of his personal life: he's diabetic and he's bipolar. I don't really consider that gettin' to know ya conversation but it takes all types, I guess. Paula kept eating cinnamon sticks and saying "I just don't understand it. Why am I fat?" I laughed so much last night just sitting on her front porch - it feels like I did crunches for an hour. But I didn't. I skipped the gym yesterday. HA!
All the best laid plans of mice and men....
So this day I am all alone. I have a whole weekend with nothing really planned and no one to whom I am accountable. I think I just might sit and enjoy the firepit in the back yard alone and be happy about it. I might take a really long, delicious bubble bath in the giant bathtub. This bathtub is so big I'm not even kidding - my feet don't reach the end and sometimes I slide under the water. Stupid short legs.
Yeah, and Ryan drew not one, but TWO penises on me.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Sex and the Suburb
*sigh*
So I want to enjoy being single again and by that I mean I want to try out different penises to see which one I like the best. The old one was great - satisfying, comforting, sizeable. The sample from the 21 year old (christ, I'm terrible) was HUGELY satisfying if he would have just shut the FUCK up. The hey, remember me one I would have liked more time with because yes, I DO remember you. And now I'm sitting here, in the burbs, surrounded by ageing men with complexes and shitty golf scores wondering where in the hell am I going to find someone to just play around with? Everyone is posturing, posing, flaunting, preening. I don't want any of that. I want to say hi, you're cute, I'm in the market for dick. Can I check yours out? Is that so terrible?
I thought at first that I wanted another relationship. I missed all the sweet things - sleeping next to someone every night, sharing the shower, laughing at each other, kissing. But I don't miss the constant pressure to be sure he's happy and his world is at rights at the expense of my happiness and my world. I'm feeling quite selfish right now. I don't want another relationship. Not yet. Not for a minute. I want to try on men like so many outfits and see which one I want to keep. Things are not looking good.
Random stranger sex sounds terrible. It sounds dirty and forbidden and naughty. Jesus, I'm talking myself into it.
Question: exactly why am I still shaving my legs every day???
So I want to enjoy being single again and by that I mean I want to try out different penises to see which one I like the best. The old one was great - satisfying, comforting, sizeable. The sample from the 21 year old (christ, I'm terrible) was HUGELY satisfying if he would have just shut the FUCK up. The hey, remember me one I would have liked more time with because yes, I DO remember you. And now I'm sitting here, in the burbs, surrounded by ageing men with complexes and shitty golf scores wondering where in the hell am I going to find someone to just play around with? Everyone is posturing, posing, flaunting, preening. I don't want any of that. I want to say hi, you're cute, I'm in the market for dick. Can I check yours out? Is that so terrible?
I thought at first that I wanted another relationship. I missed all the sweet things - sleeping next to someone every night, sharing the shower, laughing at each other, kissing. But I don't miss the constant pressure to be sure he's happy and his world is at rights at the expense of my happiness and my world. I'm feeling quite selfish right now. I don't want another relationship. Not yet. Not for a minute. I want to try on men like so many outfits and see which one I want to keep. Things are not looking good.
Random stranger sex sounds terrible. It sounds dirty and forbidden and naughty. Jesus, I'm talking myself into it.
Question: exactly why am I still shaving my legs every day???
Bitch
Last night I was told I am an angry bitch. At first it hurt my feelings but today I kind of like it. I am an angry bitch.
Bitch.
I am angry. I'm furious. I am full of pent-up rage and I want to lash out. I want to rip something apart. Sarah do this. Sarah do that. Sarah, everything will work if you just....if you would only....
Sarah, what the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?
Sarah would like to take this opportunity to tell everyone to leave her the fuck alone and let her do what she wants to do and stop trying to make her be what you want her to be. Last night I made new friends and my old one said "well, now that you have your black friends...." Really? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I have to choose my friends not only along financial lines (can't be too poor - we have an image to uphold) but now along racial lines as well??? I can't do that. I WON'T do that. She was beautiful and she was nice and we laughed and she's my new friend. I don't give a fuck what color her skin is. My hair is just as curly (we compared). Okay, she has a nicer ass but whatever. I have bigger boobs.
Yeah, I'm angry. I'm tired of being screamed at. I'm tired of never being good enough. I'm tired of being judged for every single choice I make (yeah, I ate three tortilla chips and they're not on my diet.....FUCK you). And I'm very, very tired of being ignored. All that makes me want to do is yell louder. Go bigger. Scream. Throw things. Stomp my feet and throw a giant, princess sized tantrum.
Hey, Chris Moses! Yeah, you! What the fuck are you doing with your life? Are you serious? What has happened to you? You were my friend once. Now the best way you can figure out how to manage me, your mistake, is to just ignore me? Weak.
I'm pretty damn sick of being everyone's mistake. FUCK.
Bitch.
I am angry. I'm furious. I am full of pent-up rage and I want to lash out. I want to rip something apart. Sarah do this. Sarah do that. Sarah, everything will work if you just....if you would only....
Sarah, what the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?
Sarah would like to take this opportunity to tell everyone to leave her the fuck alone and let her do what she wants to do and stop trying to make her be what you want her to be. Last night I made new friends and my old one said "well, now that you have your black friends...." Really? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I have to choose my friends not only along financial lines (can't be too poor - we have an image to uphold) but now along racial lines as well??? I can't do that. I WON'T do that. She was beautiful and she was nice and we laughed and she's my new friend. I don't give a fuck what color her skin is. My hair is just as curly (we compared). Okay, she has a nicer ass but whatever. I have bigger boobs.
Yeah, I'm angry. I'm tired of being screamed at. I'm tired of never being good enough. I'm tired of being judged for every single choice I make (yeah, I ate three tortilla chips and they're not on my diet.....FUCK you). And I'm very, very tired of being ignored. All that makes me want to do is yell louder. Go bigger. Scream. Throw things. Stomp my feet and throw a giant, princess sized tantrum.
Hey, Chris Moses! Yeah, you! What the fuck are you doing with your life? Are you serious? What has happened to you? You were my friend once. Now the best way you can figure out how to manage me, your mistake, is to just ignore me? Weak.
I'm pretty damn sick of being everyone's mistake. FUCK.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Today I Like...
Today I like my eyes. They're blue and pretty and remind me of my daddy. I like my perfume. It's French and the name has worn off and I will never be able to buy it again. But then it will be time for a new perfume and new smells for new memories. I like my body today. It feels strong and soft. I like my toes - they're painted sparkly pink and they match my fingernails (I like them too). Today I think curly hair is not so bad, is it?
Today I cheated on my diet. I ate bread. I feel very guilty. It was wheat. It was delicious.
Today I liked feeling sexy. I would like to feel that more. I am angry with him for making me forget that I am beautiful. Or at least quirky and cute in my own way. I'll take that.
I like today.
Today I cheated on my diet. I ate bread. I feel very guilty. It was wheat. It was delicious.
Today I liked feeling sexy. I would like to feel that more. I am angry with him for making me forget that I am beautiful. Or at least quirky and cute in my own way. I'll take that.
I like today.
A New Day
Obviously, I was feeling a bit of self-doubt and melancholy last night. But, I get that way. Just another one of those things I love and hate about me. I love that I feel things so intensely but I hate that I can get sad so easily....but today is a new day.
I flirted with a cable guy, got made fun of by a 12 year old for doing it, realized her wisdom was beyond her years....jesus, a cable guy. I mean, I want to have sex but I'd rather not do it with a random stranger for whom I will probably have no respect. Ouch. I'm feeling vicious today! Saw pictures of me from 1988 on a backpacking trip through Europe. Was called a name I haven't been called in years and it instantly chucked me back into Europe, NYC, Philly, Connecticut (yeah, I know, Connecticut? but that's where Sarah lived). I was so young and so hopeful and so very, very STUPID! I'd like to think I've learned from those times and grown as a woman. All it really made me want to do was grab a backpack and go trekking across Europe again. But the benefit of being older now is that I don't have to backpack....I can stay in luxury hotels and follow the production crew around while doing really nothing. I can't believe this is my life.
Well, taking this new day by the balls, I'm heading out with a couple of girlfriends to have a few cocktails, sing karaoke, and laugh like I don't have a care in the world. And I really don't. I freed myself from an abusive relationship. I packed up and moved to another state. I jumped into a new job I know nothing about with people who are taking me very seriously. I was elated to spend time with a few old friends who seemed genuinely happy to see me (Chris, Katie, Paula). Of course, true to form, I've gone psycho on them already...Katie knows what to do and just laughed at me and asked me out for happy hour. Paula lets me come to her. Chris can't talk to me. See what I do? What I leave in my wake? I'm a fucking hurricane!! Then I can never understand why no one can keep up with the fact that I'm so mercurial. It makes me fun if you can hang on long enough....at least I think so. If you can't handle me then....well, why the fuck not? At least you will always know exactly what I'm thinking and where I'm coming from and exactly what I think of you. That would only be bad if you were scared of something. I'm done being scared. I cried it out and felt sorry for myself last night and today I got up and started in on France with a vengeance. Fuck complacency.
So it's the end of a new day but tomorrow is another new day. And I get even more after that. And some of those new days will find me waking up in new places. I can't wait for that part of my adventure to really begin....
I flirted with a cable guy, got made fun of by a 12 year old for doing it, realized her wisdom was beyond her years....jesus, a cable guy. I mean, I want to have sex but I'd rather not do it with a random stranger for whom I will probably have no respect. Ouch. I'm feeling vicious today! Saw pictures of me from 1988 on a backpacking trip through Europe. Was called a name I haven't been called in years and it instantly chucked me back into Europe, NYC, Philly, Connecticut (yeah, I know, Connecticut? but that's where Sarah lived). I was so young and so hopeful and so very, very STUPID! I'd like to think I've learned from those times and grown as a woman. All it really made me want to do was grab a backpack and go trekking across Europe again. But the benefit of being older now is that I don't have to backpack....I can stay in luxury hotels and follow the production crew around while doing really nothing. I can't believe this is my life.
Well, taking this new day by the balls, I'm heading out with a couple of girlfriends to have a few cocktails, sing karaoke, and laugh like I don't have a care in the world. And I really don't. I freed myself from an abusive relationship. I packed up and moved to another state. I jumped into a new job I know nothing about with people who are taking me very seriously. I was elated to spend time with a few old friends who seemed genuinely happy to see me (Chris, Katie, Paula). Of course, true to form, I've gone psycho on them already...Katie knows what to do and just laughed at me and asked me out for happy hour. Paula lets me come to her. Chris can't talk to me. See what I do? What I leave in my wake? I'm a fucking hurricane!! Then I can never understand why no one can keep up with the fact that I'm so mercurial. It makes me fun if you can hang on long enough....at least I think so. If you can't handle me then....well, why the fuck not? At least you will always know exactly what I'm thinking and where I'm coming from and exactly what I think of you. That would only be bad if you were scared of something. I'm done being scared. I cried it out and felt sorry for myself last night and today I got up and started in on France with a vengeance. Fuck complacency.
So it's the end of a new day but tomorrow is another new day. And I get even more after that. And some of those new days will find me waking up in new places. I can't wait for that part of my adventure to really begin....
Alone
I have always been alone. I have always preferred to be alone. As I said in my last post, I've never wanted to be alone as desperately as I have wanted to be alone. I love being alone but I don't ever want to be alone. It brings about very tricky situations and impossible relationships. I am demanding and self-centered and entitled and at the same time I am sad and scared and wounded. I think everyone in my life who loves me also hates me a little bit and I think that because it's the way I feel about myself. How does one reconcile that? I love so many things about who I am, what I have done, what I have accomplished, what I have survived, what I have overcome and in the same breath I hate myself. And this is after years of therapy.
But right this moment, well, most moments really, I simply feel alone and small and lost. I no longer know how to interact with people. I don't understand boundaries or proper behaviour. I feel like I've busted out of prison and I'm free and I get why one would commit a crime to go back. The outside world is bright, confusing, lonely, painful. I cannot tell you how many nights I wake up crying. For nothing. For everything. Just crying. I would never go back but the loss is still there and it's still real and I have no comfort. I wish I could see you, Michelle (oh, GOD). I wish you would make me laugh again, April. I wish we could sit in your van and talk for hours, LaDesta. I want to hear your Mickey Mouse, Darren. Kate, Kate. I wish so many things about you. I want to hold all the babies that I will never have - Kait, Christina. I want to go to your wedding, Jess. I want to be thirteen again backpacking across Europe for the first time with you, Sarah. Katie, I want another road trip to Salt Lake for the Olympics. I want another road trip to Vegas for Phish. Katie, I want another road trip!!!
Mostly, I just want to figure out why I am still here. What my purpose is. What my future holds. And I really, really want to get laid. Sounds superficial, I know. It's not. It's liberating. it means I have really moved on. I am really my own again. Always comes back to sex, doesn't it? Sex hurts you and sex heals you and either way, I'm not having any. But the possibilities are endless and for the first time in my life I feel completely in control of who I have sex with, when I have sex, and why. I don't even mind going without. At least I know that when I choose, and who I choose, it is completely my choice.
I hate being alone. I love being alone. I am alone.
But right this moment, well, most moments really, I simply feel alone and small and lost. I no longer know how to interact with people. I don't understand boundaries or proper behaviour. I feel like I've busted out of prison and I'm free and I get why one would commit a crime to go back. The outside world is bright, confusing, lonely, painful. I cannot tell you how many nights I wake up crying. For nothing. For everything. Just crying. I would never go back but the loss is still there and it's still real and I have no comfort. I wish I could see you, Michelle (oh, GOD). I wish you would make me laugh again, April. I wish we could sit in your van and talk for hours, LaDesta. I want to hear your Mickey Mouse, Darren. Kate, Kate. I wish so many things about you. I want to hold all the babies that I will never have - Kait, Christina. I want to go to your wedding, Jess. I want to be thirteen again backpacking across Europe for the first time with you, Sarah. Katie, I want another road trip to Salt Lake for the Olympics. I want another road trip to Vegas for Phish. Katie, I want another road trip!!!
Mostly, I just want to figure out why I am still here. What my purpose is. What my future holds. And I really, really want to get laid. Sounds superficial, I know. It's not. It's liberating. it means I have really moved on. I am really my own again. Always comes back to sex, doesn't it? Sex hurts you and sex heals you and either way, I'm not having any. But the possibilities are endless and for the first time in my life I feel completely in control of who I have sex with, when I have sex, and why. I don't even mind going without. At least I know that when I choose, and who I choose, it is completely my choice.
I hate being alone. I love being alone. I am alone.
Colorado Skies
Oh, tonight. Tonight the sky has outdone itself. I have been many, many places in this world and everywhere I've been I've laid myself out on the ground in the dark and examined the sky. There is no sky I love more than the one over Colorado. I was just outside, on my back, staring up at infinity and I felt so close to those clouds, those stars. Closer than anywhere in the world. I stretched my arms up above me fully expecting to wiggle my fingers in the big, fluffy night clouds and there were still miles and miles between us. And beyond those clouds, the stars. And beyond those stars the vast universe. And I wanted to leave my body and just rise, rise, rise and hold those stars close for awhile. But they were so far, still so far.
I desperately wished I had another soul next to me to share that with. Another soul that heard me when I spoke. Heard me when I didn't speak. Heard me. Then my dog appeared. And another dog. And yet another dog. Then she was there asking me if I was okay. Telling me I looked like I'd been punched. I told her I was fine but the truth is I have been punched. I've been beat up. I've been beat down. I am beat. She asked if I'd been roasting inside and I said no. Told her I was thinking about how to take over the world. She knew what I meant. She was the one who told me I could do it just hours before. She is the one who is giving me all the tools to do just that. But it is up to me to do it. It's easy to complain about your life and how you're a victim and how everyone else is standing in your path to greatness. But when everyone clears out, you clear them out, life clears them out, circumstance, whatever....and someone says here you go...here are the tools you need, just use them...well, that's a different story altogether. Now I have to use them. Now I am hopeful and desolate, full of ideas, full of despair. Life seems impossible in a wholly different way. Not because I am held back, held down, repressed....but because I am fetterless. I am free. I can do anything I want to do. I can do it now. Today. I may not have all the things I wish for but no one does. No one has everything. I can choose what I want and have that. I can at least have the things that please me, personally, me alone.
The problem is I have never wanted to be alone as desperately as I have wanted to be alone. I told her this afternoon that it's frightening how very much this life ahead of me is exactly the life I imagined for myself when I was a child. So now I can have that....what will I do? Will I succeed? Will I fail? How could I possibly fail?
Tonight, Colorado skies. Tomorrow, the world.
I desperately wished I had another soul next to me to share that with. Another soul that heard me when I spoke. Heard me when I didn't speak. Heard me. Then my dog appeared. And another dog. And yet another dog. Then she was there asking me if I was okay. Telling me I looked like I'd been punched. I told her I was fine but the truth is I have been punched. I've been beat up. I've been beat down. I am beat. She asked if I'd been roasting inside and I said no. Told her I was thinking about how to take over the world. She knew what I meant. She was the one who told me I could do it just hours before. She is the one who is giving me all the tools to do just that. But it is up to me to do it. It's easy to complain about your life and how you're a victim and how everyone else is standing in your path to greatness. But when everyone clears out, you clear them out, life clears them out, circumstance, whatever....and someone says here you go...here are the tools you need, just use them...well, that's a different story altogether. Now I have to use them. Now I am hopeful and desolate, full of ideas, full of despair. Life seems impossible in a wholly different way. Not because I am held back, held down, repressed....but because I am fetterless. I am free. I can do anything I want to do. I can do it now. Today. I may not have all the things I wish for but no one does. No one has everything. I can choose what I want and have that. I can at least have the things that please me, personally, me alone.
The problem is I have never wanted to be alone as desperately as I have wanted to be alone. I told her this afternoon that it's frightening how very much this life ahead of me is exactly the life I imagined for myself when I was a child. So now I can have that....what will I do? Will I succeed? Will I fail? How could I possibly fail?
Tonight, Colorado skies. Tomorrow, the world.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I'm in the Wrong Song
I have always felt with absolute certainty that I'm in the wrong song. And here I sit, with the unprecedented power, finally, to write the song I'm in. If you care to, you can listen in while I try on new lyrics, new melodies, harmonies, chords, bass lines, rhythms.....you can witness the process of making music. My music.
I was thinking today. Thinking too much probably. Thinking about everything. You would never believe where I've been, what I've experienced, what I've survived, and how, miraculously, I am sitting here at this moment with my real life, the life I choose, sitting at my feet waiting for me to jump into it. I hate roller coasters and I love roller coasters and every time I ride a new one I do so for the first time with my eyes closed. If I can get through it with my eyes closed I can make it again. And again. And again. Everyone I've ever told that has said that's just stupid. It's far worse with your eyes closed. You can't see what's coming. And somehow, that's the only way I could do it. Terrified, eyes tightly closed, thinking serene thoughts. But it makes sense to me. So many horrific things I have survived from my past I have been able to survive by closing my eyes tightly and thinking of another place. Somewhere I've been. Somewhere I want to go. But always, always, somewhere else.
I am an escape artist. I'm very, very good. I can escape in thought. I can escape in music. The written word. Drink. Drugs. Or literally, by moving my body to another location entirely. But the truth is there is no way to escape yourself and eventually, you have to find a way to live with what you are, who you are, why you are, and even where you are. And you eventually have to open your eyes. The first time. No matter how scared you are.
My eyes are open. My heart is pounding. I want to scream, cry, hide, run, sleep, die. But more than that I want to ride this roller coaster for the first time with my eyes wide open.
I was told today that I can take over the world. I can choose where I want to go. I can go there. I can move my body anywhere I want to and no one can force me, no one can choose for me, no one can hold me back, no one, no one, no one. But what if I can't? What if I lack the strength of will, the determination, to rise above? Can I be strong? Can I kick dirt in the faces of all those who have hurt me, abandoned me, lied to me, raped me, abused me, used me?
I watched the fish swimming in the tank tonight and envied them. Thought of a song. "They say goldfish have no memory. I guess their lives are much like mine. And the little, plastic castle is a surprise every time. And it's hard to say if they're happy but they don't seem much to mind."
I wish I had no memory. The worst part is, I do and that damn plastic castle is still a surprise every time.
I was thinking today. Thinking too much probably. Thinking about everything. You would never believe where I've been, what I've experienced, what I've survived, and how, miraculously, I am sitting here at this moment with my real life, the life I choose, sitting at my feet waiting for me to jump into it. I hate roller coasters and I love roller coasters and every time I ride a new one I do so for the first time with my eyes closed. If I can get through it with my eyes closed I can make it again. And again. And again. Everyone I've ever told that has said that's just stupid. It's far worse with your eyes closed. You can't see what's coming. And somehow, that's the only way I could do it. Terrified, eyes tightly closed, thinking serene thoughts. But it makes sense to me. So many horrific things I have survived from my past I have been able to survive by closing my eyes tightly and thinking of another place. Somewhere I've been. Somewhere I want to go. But always, always, somewhere else.
I am an escape artist. I'm very, very good. I can escape in thought. I can escape in music. The written word. Drink. Drugs. Or literally, by moving my body to another location entirely. But the truth is there is no way to escape yourself and eventually, you have to find a way to live with what you are, who you are, why you are, and even where you are. And you eventually have to open your eyes. The first time. No matter how scared you are.
My eyes are open. My heart is pounding. I want to scream, cry, hide, run, sleep, die. But more than that I want to ride this roller coaster for the first time with my eyes wide open.
I was told today that I can take over the world. I can choose where I want to go. I can go there. I can move my body anywhere I want to and no one can force me, no one can choose for me, no one can hold me back, no one, no one, no one. But what if I can't? What if I lack the strength of will, the determination, to rise above? Can I be strong? Can I kick dirt in the faces of all those who have hurt me, abandoned me, lied to me, raped me, abused me, used me?
I watched the fish swimming in the tank tonight and envied them. Thought of a song. "They say goldfish have no memory. I guess their lives are much like mine. And the little, plastic castle is a surprise every time. And it's hard to say if they're happy but they don't seem much to mind."
I wish I had no memory. The worst part is, I do and that damn plastic castle is still a surprise every time.
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