"you came to me like a dream, the kind that always leaves. just as the best part starts, it ends so abruptly and leaves you stunned and naked, in your bedroom all alone. funny how something so soothing gets interrupted by the ring of a telephone."
I slept better last night than I have in weeks. shiny was beside me in the bed, curled against the wall. I reached out and touched the soft fabric of his shirt. "that's my back," he said. "I know."
he made me tea and heated up soup and rubbed my head. it seems like I should feel more conflicted than I am. as we walked through the park, a friendship distance between us, I thought, "so this is how it's going to be."
it's going to be him visiting and us cuddling and me wanting him so badly that I can't talk because I'm afraid I'll say that magic phrase that will push him away. the phrase that will make him think this is a bad idea. I don't know if what I feel means I'm missing him. it's more like longing. or abject complacency.
I will never have what I want because what I want is him. and every time he rubbed his foot against mine or put his hand on my arm, I had to remind myself that it meant nothing. I had to remember him saying, "I don't want you."
I can't look into his eyes and ask him to say that. it would hurt too much.
in my little fantasy world, we begin to hang out again on some weekends. he would let himself feel again. he would kiss me. he would kiss me and hold me and we would be together again and this fucking hollowness would go away. and I wouldn't hurt or want to hurt anyone. I just ... I want to be ok. and I want him to be ok. and I want him to want the way that I do. want until it feels like nothing else matters; want until it consumes everything but the object of attention; want until it feels like there's no other possible outcome but to obtain the point of desire, and to have anything less would be giving up or death.
it had never occurred to me before that everyone doesn't feel that way.
change, any change, is death. I've known that since high school,before I could understand what I was feeling. I would lay in bed in agony and wish that I would die because the change hurt so badly.
but it would come, and it would pass, and I would still live.
live to see another change, when all I wanted was to die.
and in my fantasy world I finally reach the point where I can either die or be happy because those are the only two options. I'd rather live and be happy. content. reach that magic spot that doesn't exist. the place where things level out and I find my rhythm. I get my routine. and I love it.
but no, that doesn't exist.
instead I get these shades of grey. I get shiny coming to my house and letting me hold him like he was still mine. I get him calling me when I'm in the hospital. I get him singing to me. but it doesn't mean anything more than friendship to him. and I have to remind myself over and over that he doesn't want me. he cares, he loves, but he doesn't desire.
I just can't imagine living like that. I guess I'll have to, if I want to keep him in my life.[and isn't that the way chick and I are? but we never dated and we were never in love. so the mutuality matters? apparently so.]
I see my life unfold like a mottled grey quilt stretching over and covering obstacles. I see the bumps and valleys. I see this colorless mass and I read the story within it. I will be in love with him. we will see each other until one of us stumbles onto someone else. and I will always wonder why things didn't work. and I will always wish it was him, and not whoever I was with instead.
and maybe I've felt this way about everyone that I have loved. but I don't think so.
and I wonder if anyone's ever felt that way about me.
I wonder if anyone's ever been entirely taken by my elbows. if anyone has ever had a crush on the arch of my foot. if anyone has ever missed me so much that their arms tingled. I don't know. but that's what love is to me.
the entire time I was with ex-husband, I never got tired of watching him breathe.
four years of witnessing the expansion and deflation of a person's ribcage. it would make me ache.
always hands. always lips. always teeth. worn, full, weird. slender fingers with deep creased palms. softness to make me sigh. jagged points that I could run my finger across.
ex-otter used to bite me like he was eating. it wasn't sexual. ex-husband, too. I would let him chew on my finger. I liked the way it felt and I liked the trust involved. I would bite too hard, though. I've never had the same level of self-constraint as the people I have dated.
it's autumn.
I feel the grey skies keenly. I feel the trees baring themselves to winter. I feel it and I lock it inside of myself to deal with later. that's what this year has brought me. it opened up the boxes I used to keep hidden in my chest. I have been dealing and dealing and dealing and no wonder I am so emotionally exhausted.
being honest is such hard work.
31 October 2010
28 October 2010
starting before ending
dryness in my lungs. I cough and it does nothing. burning sensation in my chest. I get winded. I am defeated.
last night I dreamed that I saw ex-otter at a punk rock show. he was wearing clothes that were mine. I kicked him in the shins and told him to give me back what he was wearing. he did. later, sitting on some bleachers, I tried on the clothes. they didn't fit me like they used to. I didn't really want them anymore. I just didn't want him to have them.
my roommate said, "that sounds so symbolic!" and it is. we are different people now. the things that once worked, don't anymore. and you can't go back. old habits don't feel right. the way we were has changed.
every time I see him in a dream, I think "there he is. how am I going to react?" as though I'm watching from outside of me. I'm always relieved that I'll finally see. I have punched him, kissed him, hugged him, ignored him, yelled at him, and now kicked him. I'm sure there have been other actions, too. I don't think any of them will be true. I've cried. I've screamed. I've accused. I had a dream a week or so ago that deafgirl called me with some problem. like because it was ex-otter's birthday it was ok for her to contact me. I let her finish talking, then I told her that I hated her. I said it plainly, and calmly, and with utter conviction. I told her that I hated her and I explained exactly why.
Talking to a friend today, I told him that sometimes I hold grudges. but I'm also very forgiving, if a person asks for forgiveness. if a person will own up to what they have done and ask that I forgive them, then I will. I do. small things I will overlook. things that were done accidentally, I will overlook. but I cannot forgive ex-otter and deafgirl. I cannot. they have never admitted fault. they have never asked for forgiveness. they hurt me terribly and I'll have those scars forever. whenever I think about getting back in touch with ex-otter, I think about deafgirl, and I feel blinding anger and I know that I can't do it yet. when I can think of her and feel nothing, then I will be ready.
I know that someday I will have to forgive them. I'll have to do it for myself, not for them. I can't let go of that anger yet. I don't know when I'll be able to. maybe when I have someone of my own to hold me and protect me. or maybe when I'm strong enough to feel secure without that.
these days. these stupid, worthless days. I miss shiny like an arrow in my sternum. spontaneously started sobbing today when I remembered that this was the weekend that I'd originally asked him to visit. I keep wanting to call him and ask him if he'll come. but we already had that talk. he doesn't think and I can't stop wanting.
I think if he asked to come see me, I would say yes. but I can't keep calling the shots. and I can't expect things of him unless I specifically ask. and I don't want to ask anything of him. these circles, these loops, these stupid worthless days.
how fucking typical.
last night I dreamed that I saw ex-otter at a punk rock show. he was wearing clothes that were mine. I kicked him in the shins and told him to give me back what he was wearing. he did. later, sitting on some bleachers, I tried on the clothes. they didn't fit me like they used to. I didn't really want them anymore. I just didn't want him to have them.
my roommate said, "that sounds so symbolic!" and it is. we are different people now. the things that once worked, don't anymore. and you can't go back. old habits don't feel right. the way we were has changed.
every time I see him in a dream, I think "there he is. how am I going to react?" as though I'm watching from outside of me. I'm always relieved that I'll finally see. I have punched him, kissed him, hugged him, ignored him, yelled at him, and now kicked him. I'm sure there have been other actions, too. I don't think any of them will be true. I've cried. I've screamed. I've accused. I had a dream a week or so ago that deafgirl called me with some problem. like because it was ex-otter's birthday it was ok for her to contact me. I let her finish talking, then I told her that I hated her. I said it plainly, and calmly, and with utter conviction. I told her that I hated her and I explained exactly why.
Talking to a friend today, I told him that sometimes I hold grudges. but I'm also very forgiving, if a person asks for forgiveness. if a person will own up to what they have done and ask that I forgive them, then I will. I do. small things I will overlook. things that were done accidentally, I will overlook. but I cannot forgive ex-otter and deafgirl. I cannot. they have never admitted fault. they have never asked for forgiveness. they hurt me terribly and I'll have those scars forever. whenever I think about getting back in touch with ex-otter, I think about deafgirl, and I feel blinding anger and I know that I can't do it yet. when I can think of her and feel nothing, then I will be ready.
I know that someday I will have to forgive them. I'll have to do it for myself, not for them. I can't let go of that anger yet. I don't know when I'll be able to. maybe when I have someone of my own to hold me and protect me. or maybe when I'm strong enough to feel secure without that.
these days. these stupid, worthless days. I miss shiny like an arrow in my sternum. spontaneously started sobbing today when I remembered that this was the weekend that I'd originally asked him to visit. I keep wanting to call him and ask him if he'll come. but we already had that talk. he doesn't think and I can't stop wanting.
I think if he asked to come see me, I would say yes. but I can't keep calling the shots. and I can't expect things of him unless I specifically ask. and I don't want to ask anything of him. these circles, these loops, these stupid worthless days.
when I was in the hospital, chick brought me the tiger that has been sleeping with me since my mom gave her to me on my 7th birthday. one night I dreamed that I saw my mom. I was sad, and she hugged me tightly. I woke up crying, momentarily confused because the dream seemed to have followed me awake. but it was just my tiger in my arms. and my mom was still dead.
two years since dru died.
things didn't feel solid then anyway. doesn't mean getting knocked off the boat into turbulent waters is any easier. because there's always the hope that maybe it won't happen. yes, things are horribly unsteady but there's the chance they'll calm down. clinging to that glimmer in the face of facts to the contrary makes the final fall so much worse.
maybe that's why ex-otter leaving me hurt so fucking much. shiny broad-sided me. there was no time to prepare or hope it wouldn't happen. but ex-otter gave me plenty of time.
like dru's death. didn't even know he was back on drugs. one day he was fine. the next he was dead. mom gave us a little chance, time to listen to the people around us comforting us with anecdotes of miraculous recovery. holding onto the most hopeless of hopes crushes you even harder.
rooting for the underdog only to be defeated.
and this is the difference between real life and fantasy. this is why I hate happy endings and romantic movies. it never, ever, ever ever works out that way. the two people that hate each other don't end up in love. there are no secret love notes to find or convenient coincidences. the people that are supposed to miraculously recover die. the people that are supposed to stand beside you no matter what, leave. couples break up and they don't go on to happy new relationships. sometimes they don't go anywhere. progress is lost. friends you thought would love you forever, stop. everything concrete ceases to be and it doesn't come back.
oh sure, anything can have a happy ending if you know where to stop. but life doesn't do that. we don't get to stop our stories.
when I was laying in bed, wracked with fever and coughing fits, feeling my heart flutter, I thought, "please just let me die." it seemed right. it was an out. all I had to do was not go to the hospital. all I had to do was just stay in my apartment.
but I didn't.
and now I have to deal with the consequences.
how fucking typical.
27 October 2010
coughing up the excess
he called me and sang to me when I asked him to. sang, then I said goodbye, and hung up the phone. he called me when I was in the hospital. I had to go, he said, "should I call you later?" and I told him that I wouldn't think any less of him if he didn't call again that night. but I did.
like treating pneumonia with cough drops. we walk around the symptoms, never rooting out the cause. what is it about him that keeps me latched so tightly? how can I feel so emotionally faithful to someone that feels only slightly more than nothing for me? five months we were together, almost four we've been apart. how do I get so attached to such smooth surfaces?
those that try, I push away. more than push. I ignore them, abuse them, take them for granted. I don't know how to reciprocate. I can only initiate. I feel untrustworthy and ashamed. how could anyone ever depend on me? I am so inconstant. Inconsistent. emotionally incapacitated.
I offer surface value, just enough so people stay. but the important parts of me I save for the people that leave. and then I have another reason not to trust. self-defeating. self-defacing. self-destructive.
I want to do the things that I say I will do, and I want to do them when I say I will.
I want to care about other people as much as I care about myself. I have wanted this for years. Why do I still fall so short? What do I need to do? self-sacrifice? be my own martyr? fuck martyrdom. I just want to feel human.
like treating pneumonia with cough drops. we walk around the symptoms, never rooting out the cause. what is it about him that keeps me latched so tightly? how can I feel so emotionally faithful to someone that feels only slightly more than nothing for me? five months we were together, almost four we've been apart. how do I get so attached to such smooth surfaces?
those that try, I push away. more than push. I ignore them, abuse them, take them for granted. I don't know how to reciprocate. I can only initiate. I feel untrustworthy and ashamed. how could anyone ever depend on me? I am so inconstant. Inconsistent. emotionally incapacitated.
I offer surface value, just enough so people stay. but the important parts of me I save for the people that leave. and then I have another reason not to trust. self-defeating. self-defacing. self-destructive.
I want to do the things that I say I will do, and I want to do them when I say I will.
I want to care about other people as much as I care about myself. I have wanted this for years. Why do I still fall so short? What do I need to do? self-sacrifice? be my own martyr? fuck martyrdom. I just want to feel human.
21 October 2010
winded from a long journey nowhere
think about you and my heart wants to run away. think about you and I want to give up.
"tell me you don't want me," I told you. "Ok. I don't want you." "Do you mean that?" in tears. "Yes. I don't want anyone." oh, it was painful to hear but I guess it was what I needed. "you were going to come visit and what? I was going to have to pretend like I didn't want to fuck you, like I didn't want you to touch me. did you even think that far?" "no."
no, you didn't think that far. like you said to me before, you don't think ahead. it's not that you're the spontaneous sort. you're not. you just don't look beyond your feet to see what's in front of you. you only look down and see where you are immediately going.
I told you all the things I loved about you and I asked if you had loved me like that. "no." you sounded bewildered and sad. I asked if you'd ever loved anyone like that and you said "I think so." stop thinking and start knowing, please.
think about you and it pushes my head further under the water. "I thought that maybe if you came to see me, and you saw me, it would change your mind." and he made those sad noises at me. he doesn't want to have to think of anyone but himself, but he's not a naturally selfish person. that's why he has to shut off part of his brain in order to get by. that's why he can't see ahead. because he doesn't want to take anyone else into account. he doesn't want to have an effect.
I told him that's he's right back where he was before me. same routine, same way of doing things. but me, everything has changed. everything. and I collapse to say it, and I cry when I realize it. some of it's for the better and some of it isn't, but I can't really tell you what is what.
I loved someone and they loved me and I thought it could be that simple and easy. Just like I have done before. but there weren't fights and he fit me so perfectly.
How can one person be both so right and so wrong for me at the same time?
he said I helped him realize how fucked up he is. but what is he doing with that knowledge? I don't know. nothing, from what I can tell.
as for me, sometimes I want to slide back to where I was before. slide back into sex just to feel and feel wanted. so that for a little while, I am someone's world. even if it's just for an hour. to feel desired. to forget the hurt. but it's another form of self-destruction and I've been trying so hard to get rid of all of those. the whiskey and the pot and sleep deprivation and the not eating and then the cutting that I ruled out long ago. years. I don't even think of that as an option these days.
and everyone that I have ever loved has gone away.
and I have so few close friends.
and I can't blame it on anyone.
I wish it was someone's fault. I do. but it's mine. these past months show me how sheltered I have made myself and how little I trust anyone. because when I needed people, there was no one for me to grasp. and now I've been sick these past few days and no one has come to help me. anu drove me home from school. ome said she'd stop by but never did. joy is too busy. I leave passive-aggressive status updates lamenting my loneliness. that isn't the way to get people to come close to me. maybe I know that and I just don't care anymore. because at first I try to be nice, and I ask for help, and when there is no response I get angry and use guilt.
I probably focus too much on what I don't have. The truth is that there are people that love and care about. it's not that I don't have anyone, it's that I don't have everyone. what I have isn't enough for me. but what is enough? how is that defined?
I don't know. the eternal struggle. how can I learn to be happy with just what I have instead of wanting more?
oh, these headaches.
"tell me you don't want me," I told you. "Ok. I don't want you." "Do you mean that?" in tears. "Yes. I don't want anyone." oh, it was painful to hear but I guess it was what I needed. "you were going to come visit and what? I was going to have to pretend like I didn't want to fuck you, like I didn't want you to touch me. did you even think that far?" "no."
no, you didn't think that far. like you said to me before, you don't think ahead. it's not that you're the spontaneous sort. you're not. you just don't look beyond your feet to see what's in front of you. you only look down and see where you are immediately going.
I told you all the things I loved about you and I asked if you had loved me like that. "no." you sounded bewildered and sad. I asked if you'd ever loved anyone like that and you said "I think so." stop thinking and start knowing, please.
think about you and it pushes my head further under the water. "I thought that maybe if you came to see me, and you saw me, it would change your mind." and he made those sad noises at me. he doesn't want to have to think of anyone but himself, but he's not a naturally selfish person. that's why he has to shut off part of his brain in order to get by. that's why he can't see ahead. because he doesn't want to take anyone else into account. he doesn't want to have an effect.
I told him that's he's right back where he was before me. same routine, same way of doing things. but me, everything has changed. everything. and I collapse to say it, and I cry when I realize it. some of it's for the better and some of it isn't, but I can't really tell you what is what.
I loved someone and they loved me and I thought it could be that simple and easy. Just like I have done before. but there weren't fights and he fit me so perfectly.
How can one person be both so right and so wrong for me at the same time?
he said I helped him realize how fucked up he is. but what is he doing with that knowledge? I don't know. nothing, from what I can tell.
as for me, sometimes I want to slide back to where I was before. slide back into sex just to feel and feel wanted. so that for a little while, I am someone's world. even if it's just for an hour. to feel desired. to forget the hurt. but it's another form of self-destruction and I've been trying so hard to get rid of all of those. the whiskey and the pot and sleep deprivation and the not eating and then the cutting that I ruled out long ago. years. I don't even think of that as an option these days.
and everyone that I have ever loved has gone away.
and I have so few close friends.
and I can't blame it on anyone.
I wish it was someone's fault. I do. but it's mine. these past months show me how sheltered I have made myself and how little I trust anyone. because when I needed people, there was no one for me to grasp. and now I've been sick these past few days and no one has come to help me. anu drove me home from school. ome said she'd stop by but never did. joy is too busy. I leave passive-aggressive status updates lamenting my loneliness. that isn't the way to get people to come close to me. maybe I know that and I just don't care anymore. because at first I try to be nice, and I ask for help, and when there is no response I get angry and use guilt.
I probably focus too much on what I don't have. The truth is that there are people that love and care about. it's not that I don't have anyone, it's that I don't have everyone. what I have isn't enough for me. but what is enough? how is that defined?
I don't know. the eternal struggle. how can I learn to be happy with just what I have instead of wanting more?
oh, these headaches.
18 October 2010
I am not convinced that any of this matters
I still resent ex-otter. His birthday is tomorrow. I can't remember what we did for it when we were together. It was only a week before his brother died. Then he shoved me away, and broke my heart at the beginning of December. I think it was the 7th.
I still resent him because I've had a hellish time with no one to take care of me. Because I was sick with PID or bi-lateral kidney infection, or whatever the fuck, and I used up my friendships trying to get well. Because when he left me, he immediately had someone else. So they hadn't had sex yet. So what? There are other ways to cheat. Other ways to be together. He should know. He dated a girl that he didn't get to penetrate.
I resent him because he left me so easily and stayed gone so willingly. Because he was cold, then tried to say it was my choice. Because he acted surprised at my devastation. Because my life is a wreck and I miss stupid things like his ankles and the arch of his foot. When he left me, I cried because I knew I wouldn't find anyone else who could make me believe his fingers were alive. He wove pictures with them when he talked, and acted out puppetry for me without disguise. I loved to watch his hands. I tried to emulate the movements, but never got it right.
It is the small things that kill me. Those small things.
So many miniscule parts add up to a whole. There is no big picture without the pixels. I should have been a scientist, studying smaller and smaller particles, making up explanations for what is made of what. String theory is appealing. So small. So significant. Right now entirely impossible to prove.
I wonder if this is how my exes felt when I moved on from them? Is this how buttercup felt when von came in? how ex-husband felt? from relationship to relationship for my entire adult life until ex-otter left me. no wonder I fell apart. Who am I when I'm alone?
I'm alone a lot these days.
I'm unmotivated but creative. Despondent but hopeful. Angry and helpless. Sad, always sad, so sad. I usually cry at some point. And I miss the smell of people that I haven't seen in over ten years. I miss the feeling I had around them. I miss California and I hate it.
I called shiny useless. But what use am I, these days?
pot calling the kettle shiny? no, no, no. kettle doesn't call shiny anymore, and he doesn't call either.
I still resent him because I've had a hellish time with no one to take care of me. Because I was sick with PID or bi-lateral kidney infection, or whatever the fuck, and I used up my friendships trying to get well. Because when he left me, he immediately had someone else. So they hadn't had sex yet. So what? There are other ways to cheat. Other ways to be together. He should know. He dated a girl that he didn't get to penetrate.
I resent him because he left me so easily and stayed gone so willingly. Because he was cold, then tried to say it was my choice. Because he acted surprised at my devastation. Because my life is a wreck and I miss stupid things like his ankles and the arch of his foot. When he left me, I cried because I knew I wouldn't find anyone else who could make me believe his fingers were alive. He wove pictures with them when he talked, and acted out puppetry for me without disguise. I loved to watch his hands. I tried to emulate the movements, but never got it right.
It is the small things that kill me. Those small things.
So many miniscule parts add up to a whole. There is no big picture without the pixels. I should have been a scientist, studying smaller and smaller particles, making up explanations for what is made of what. String theory is appealing. So small. So significant. Right now entirely impossible to prove.
I wonder if this is how my exes felt when I moved on from them? Is this how buttercup felt when von came in? how ex-husband felt? from relationship to relationship for my entire adult life until ex-otter left me. no wonder I fell apart. Who am I when I'm alone?
I'm alone a lot these days.
I'm unmotivated but creative. Despondent but hopeful. Angry and helpless. Sad, always sad, so sad. I usually cry at some point. And I miss the smell of people that I haven't seen in over ten years. I miss the feeling I had around them. I miss California and I hate it.
I called shiny useless. But what use am I, these days?
pot calling the kettle shiny? no, no, no. kettle doesn't call shiny anymore, and he doesn't call either.
17 October 2010
don't know
cried in the kitchen, my hand-knit blanket pulled around my shoulders. leaned back in my chair against the wall and sobbed. and I missed my mom. and I missed shiny. and I missed so many other people, but mostly my mom.
I don't want to be alone anymore and I don't want to be scared. I don't want to fear the touch of strangers in a crowd or wonder what they think of me. so many things that I do not want. so many things that I want that I do not have.
like people and hope and the desire to live. like love and affection from someone that stays. someone that's utterly honest with their own self and with me.
I don't want to be alone anymore and I don't want to be scared. I don't want to fear the touch of strangers in a crowd or wonder what they think of me. so many things that I do not want. so many things that I want that I do not have.
like people and hope and the desire to live. like love and affection from someone that stays. someone that's utterly honest with their own self and with me.
16 October 2010
still bitter, so bitter, always bitter
I want to take care of myself but I think I've forgotten how. This feeling of disbelief and loss doesn't leave me. It coats me like salt left from an ocean swim. It's invisible yet tangible, and I can't get rid of it.
Reality lays heavily on my mind. Heavy. It weighs me down. I went to bed at 10:30 because I couldn't think of anything else to do. I stayed up reading until midnight. Now here I am, writing it down.
Just added the names of old friends to my blocked users list. Old friends who cut me from their lives without explanation years ago. People that it hurts to see mentioned. Now I won't have to worry about that. Do you see? I can ignore things that hurt, too.
I cannot stop being bitter. And it pains me.
I am so frightened to hope for anything. I am so sick of being alone. I put myself here, I know. I put myself here and now I'm not sure how to get out. Every time I reach for something, I get pushed back.
Dreams last night about my ex-husband and his cruelty.
Cruelty that never existed while we were together.
So much has changed in 5 years, except that I love him.
I love him and everyone that has left me.
I wonder what it's like to let these things go?
Reality lays heavily on my mind. Heavy. It weighs me down. I went to bed at 10:30 because I couldn't think of anything else to do. I stayed up reading until midnight. Now here I am, writing it down.
Just added the names of old friends to my blocked users list. Old friends who cut me from their lives without explanation years ago. People that it hurts to see mentioned. Now I won't have to worry about that. Do you see? I can ignore things that hurt, too.
I cannot stop being bitter. And it pains me.
I am so frightened to hope for anything. I am so sick of being alone. I put myself here, I know. I put myself here and now I'm not sure how to get out. Every time I reach for something, I get pushed back.
Dreams last night about my ex-husband and his cruelty.
Cruelty that never existed while we were together.
So much has changed in 5 years, except that I love him.
I love him and everyone that has left me.
I wonder what it's like to let these things go?
I am so angry, and confused, and lost, and ashamed.
So tired of these dreams in my empty bed. Tired of my empty heart. Tired of my empty future. Tired of this empty hope. I still think about dying. I still find comfort in its thought, even though I doubt that I would do it. Right now it's just my sister that keeps me hanging on. And even if I did die, she could handle it.
After so many people leave you, you put the pieces together and the only common factor is you. Is me. If there wasn't something wrong with me, then someone would have stayed. Someone would have fought for me. Someone would still be here.
But no one has and no one is and I miss feeling wanted by someone that I want.
Shiny might have loved me, but it was only because he thought it was what he was supposed to do. My legacy is making him realize how fucked up he is. But who's he hurting other than himself? As long as he remains single, it's only his life that he ruins. Now that he's let me go, there's no one else to hurt. So go ahead, Shiny. Ignore me and ignore this and forget about the things I've said and what you've felt. Forget about all of it. You're better off being numb. Believe me.
15 October 2010
just pain, what of it?
ride it. I rode it. I rode it until it bucked me off. left me naked in the dust. left me bruised and bleeding. never even noticed I had fallen. never even noticed I'd been there.
I can eat now. the poison's gone. my gut feels empty instead of queasy and the shaking feels natural. eat it. eat it up. forget about me and everything. forget about all the things I said.
the small things. how everything mattered. you never told me I was beautiful. you never said it and for months I wondered why. how many other things did you say that you didn't mean? what was the harm of one more?
I hate how much I miss your upper lip and the crinkles around your eyes when you laughed. I hate how much I loved to see your hands on me, anywhere, it didn't matter. how lightly you would stroke my arm, in just the right place, the spot where my spiderweb lives. your smile your smile your smile and the way you held me against your chest. I hate the memories and I hate how badly I ache for them.
for you. for you. for you for you for you.
maybe you've felt this way about someone before. but I remember so many things about my exes. so many things about everyone that I have loved. how could you forget? what makes you so numb? what's your goddamn excuse?
here, a list, without names:
his weird grin
his turtle neck, giggle, the little jump he did
the serious playfulness in her eyes, the grace of her wrist
the tiny kisses he would plant on my neck
tortured gazes and how he hid with lust when I took off my shirt
the way his fingers looked when he played bass
her little smile and moans and the softness of her body as we rocked against each other
the way he'd pull me into his lap and rock me when I was sad, his arms encircling me, his head leaning down against mine. so many things about him. so many years
eyes. always eyes. and smiles.
laughter
the freckles on his knuckles and his mock-surprised face
the way his upper lip looked when he shaved off the mustache of his goatee
her warm breath and sighs
the way her hair brushed the shining water as she leaned out off the pier
the mole on her cheek
tiny noises
how he'd step out of his clothing and snuggle into bed with me
long, work-worn fingers
lips
how she tasted
the feeling of warmth on my back
sweat dripping onto me
eyes, always eyes, the shape and color and intensity
lips, sucking on them, chewing, staring, touching, analyzing, wanting
how can anyone not remember these things?
gasps, the intake of air
eyes closed at orgasm
strange noises
hands on the back of my head
his nails
slapping my face
the look in his eyes as he chained me up
half-fear, half-desire
how can anyone forget? I remember all the way back to pre-school. I remember them all. ask me any name, any time, and I can tell you. I will describe it. the letter I wrote, sealed with tape over a lipstick kiss. licking behind his ear. being pressed against a foggy window in the backseat of his father's car. her hand creeping up my thigh. his weight on top of me.
loss.
and loss and loss and loss.
all these people gone from me. just like you. like you are gone. like I want you to be gone. like I am from you. like you made me.
I hate you sometimes.
that sharp, strange pain in my chest. the place I used to rub after ex-otter left me. the place I rub now so it doesn't feel so empty.
you never asked me personal questions.
wasn't there anything you wanted to know?
I could see so much about you.
why didn't you want to know?
I can eat now. the poison's gone. my gut feels empty instead of queasy and the shaking feels natural. eat it. eat it up. forget about me and everything. forget about all the things I said.
the small things. how everything mattered. you never told me I was beautiful. you never said it and for months I wondered why. how many other things did you say that you didn't mean? what was the harm of one more?
I hate how much I miss your upper lip and the crinkles around your eyes when you laughed. I hate how much I loved to see your hands on me, anywhere, it didn't matter. how lightly you would stroke my arm, in just the right place, the spot where my spiderweb lives. your smile your smile your smile and the way you held me against your chest. I hate the memories and I hate how badly I ache for them.
for you. for you. for you for you for you.
maybe you've felt this way about someone before. but I remember so many things about my exes. so many things about everyone that I have loved. how could you forget? what makes you so numb? what's your goddamn excuse?
here, a list, without names:
his weird grin
his turtle neck, giggle, the little jump he did
the serious playfulness in her eyes, the grace of her wrist
the tiny kisses he would plant on my neck
tortured gazes and how he hid with lust when I took off my shirt
the way his fingers looked when he played bass
her little smile and moans and the softness of her body as we rocked against each other
the way he'd pull me into his lap and rock me when I was sad, his arms encircling me, his head leaning down against mine. so many things about him. so many years
eyes. always eyes. and smiles.
laughter
the freckles on his knuckles and his mock-surprised face
the way his upper lip looked when he shaved off the mustache of his goatee
her warm breath and sighs
the way her hair brushed the shining water as she leaned out off the pier
the mole on her cheek
tiny noises
how he'd step out of his clothing and snuggle into bed with me
long, work-worn fingers
lips
how she tasted
the feeling of warmth on my back
sweat dripping onto me
eyes, always eyes, the shape and color and intensity
lips, sucking on them, chewing, staring, touching, analyzing, wanting
how can anyone not remember these things?
gasps, the intake of air
eyes closed at orgasm
strange noises
hands on the back of my head
his nails
slapping my face
the look in his eyes as he chained me up
half-fear, half-desire
how can anyone forget? I remember all the way back to pre-school. I remember them all. ask me any name, any time, and I can tell you. I will describe it. the letter I wrote, sealed with tape over a lipstick kiss. licking behind his ear. being pressed against a foggy window in the backseat of his father's car. her hand creeping up my thigh. his weight on top of me.
loss.
and loss and loss and loss.
all these people gone from me. just like you. like you are gone. like I want you to be gone. like I am from you. like you made me.
I hate you sometimes.
that sharp, strange pain in my chest. the place I used to rub after ex-otter left me. the place I rub now so it doesn't feel so empty.
you never asked me personal questions.
wasn't there anything you wanted to know?
I could see so much about you.
why didn't you want to know?
14 October 2010
you know I must be tired, right?
I wish you could understand the things that I feel for you. I wish you understood how much they influence me. I wish you could know how totally they fill me.
I can't make you understand. I just want you to. I want you to feel it too.
I want you to know what my love is, and what life it can bring to the dead.
I can't make you understand. I just want you to. I want you to feel it too.
I want you to know what my love is, and what life it can bring to the dead.
10 October 2010
maybe it's silly
I fucking love him.
I don't know what to do with this but enjoy it. Enjoy it as well as I can. There is no one else that I'm interested in. Just him. Every day I hope he'll come back to me. Every day I know that he won't. It just doesn't matter. I love him and there's nothing to be done about it.
I'm sitting home alone, drinking hot toddies (that's whiskey, tea, lemon, and maple syrup if you're vegan), eating rice and beans, and thinking about him. Did you know that I think about him constantly? Everything I do I relate back to him somehow. Today I called him from the art center because I'd been sad about my mom and had started crying. Today I called him and asked him to say words for me from my dialect class so I could see if the rest of the country really does have a low-back merger (it makes the words "dawn" and "don" sound the same, as well as "caught" and "cot"). I loved it. He obliged. He said "robot" three times for me. He laughed. I love it when he laughs. I love it when he sounds like he feels something. I love it when I'm the root of that.
He said that he would visit me. I'll have to play nice. I'll have to pretend like I don't want to fuck him. I'll have to pretend like I don't want to spend the rest of my life with him. I'll have to pretend we're just friends. He knows that's not how I see him. I tell him that I miss him. If I do it right, then he's charmed. Otherwise I'm not sure how he feels.
I think he misses me too, but not the same way.
I want us to be together. I don't know how else to say it.
I guess I'll just stay single, in case he ever comes back.
I don't know what to do with this but enjoy it. Enjoy it as well as I can. There is no one else that I'm interested in. Just him. Every day I hope he'll come back to me. Every day I know that he won't. It just doesn't matter. I love him and there's nothing to be done about it.
I'm sitting home alone, drinking hot toddies (that's whiskey, tea, lemon, and maple syrup if you're vegan), eating rice and beans, and thinking about him. Did you know that I think about him constantly? Everything I do I relate back to him somehow. Today I called him from the art center because I'd been sad about my mom and had started crying. Today I called him and asked him to say words for me from my dialect class so I could see if the rest of the country really does have a low-back merger (it makes the words "dawn" and "don" sound the same, as well as "caught" and "cot"). I loved it. He obliged. He said "robot" three times for me. He laughed. I love it when he laughs. I love it when he sounds like he feels something. I love it when I'm the root of that.
He said that he would visit me. I'll have to play nice. I'll have to pretend like I don't want to fuck him. I'll have to pretend like I don't want to spend the rest of my life with him. I'll have to pretend we're just friends. He knows that's not how I see him. I tell him that I miss him. If I do it right, then he's charmed. Otherwise I'm not sure how he feels.
I think he misses me too, but not the same way.
I want us to be together. I don't know how else to say it.
I guess I'll just stay single, in case he ever comes back.
09 October 2010
a summary
These days don't feel like much. Fuzzy-brained and slightly bored. Existing. Missing. Longing. Sighing.
The sunny days are better than the rainy days, but not by much. I still sit inside alone. I still keep myself separate from everyone. I still cease to reach for anyone. I just can't see the point.
Yeah, this is depression. So what?
I don't think I've ever been happy. I've been happier than now, but never some all-encompassing thing. My time with Shiny came close, especially right before my mom died. Right before he realize he couldn't see a future for us.
These paths we travel down: can we really see to their end? When we travel down the different forks, isn't it possible they can twist back and reconnect? I don't know. I just know that I ache for him. And I ache.
He didn't call last night. I didn't call him. It was Friday. Maybe he thought I'd be out. I wasn't. There are always excuses.
I'm so tired.
I like escaping into the worlds that are not mine.
I like leaving the mediocrity behind.
The sunny days are better than the rainy days, but not by much. I still sit inside alone. I still keep myself separate from everyone. I still cease to reach for anyone. I just can't see the point.
Yeah, this is depression. So what?
I don't think I've ever been happy. I've been happier than now, but never some all-encompassing thing. My time with Shiny came close, especially right before my mom died. Right before he realize he couldn't see a future for us.
These paths we travel down: can we really see to their end? When we travel down the different forks, isn't it possible they can twist back and reconnect? I don't know. I just know that I ache for him. And I ache.
He didn't call last night. I didn't call him. It was Friday. Maybe he thought I'd be out. I wasn't. There are always excuses.
I'm so tired.
I like escaping into the worlds that are not mine.
I like leaving the mediocrity behind.
I really miss loving my life.
I hope that some day I don't look back and realize that this was the best of the worst of this time of my life.
Lately I've been waking up disoriented, thinking I'm at the house where I grew up. I blurrily look around, thinking there will be stairs to climb down. The sound of the kitchen surprises me. It's supposed to be downstairs. But no, it's there, just outside of my room. There are no stairs, just a ladder leading down from my loft bed. Just beyond my door is the kitchen, and the rattling dishes. It takes me a moment to realize that I'm 29, not 13, my mom is dead, my sister married and with children, and my dad and brother are almost entirely absent.
I get confused.
I have been crying at night and wishing for something better.
No matter what people want to believe or the things they try to say, I have never been particularly strong. Not in the way that I have needed. I've never been certain of anything for very long. I've rarely fully trusted anyone. I don't think I've ever trusted myself.
I get confused.
I have been crying at night and wishing for something better.
No matter what people want to believe or the things they try to say, I have never been particularly strong. Not in the way that I have needed. I've never been certain of anything for very long. I've rarely fully trusted anyone. I don't think I've ever trusted myself.
07 October 2010
just wondering
drawn to the phoenix. the word phoenix. the concept. the idea. the city.
"don't go to phoenix. there's nothing there." but I had a dream once that the person I loved was there. I had a dream that I was supposed to follow. I still haven't gone. I don't know if I will.
the phoenix and its burning wings. the phoenix, reborn out of ashes. the mythology. the symbolism. the analogy.
the idea that a being can rise out of its own destruction. the details differ from culture to culture, but certain elements remain. beauty. fire. death. rebirth.
and a very long life.
what does the phoenix do with its years? what would any creature do? is it wise? is there only one? is it lonely? where does it go? what does it do? who does it love?
these mythologies of long-lived creatures baffle me. I do not understand the strong desire for power and longevity. I don't know what I would do with all the years.
the long-lived in the tale of Gulliver's Travels grow to hate themselves and the world. they grow backwards into senility from the age of 40 onwards. but other mythos, like that of the vampire, talk of ever-lasting youth and beauty. but there's always a price, right?
burn yourself at the end of your 500 or 1000 years. be reborn. or drink the blood of other creatures just to live. hate your existence. I don't know.
why am I so drawn to the phoenix? what loss have I faced? death, and heart break, and liars, and pain. does the phoenix remember its past lives? does it feel the flames? does it scream?
could it ever choose to die and stay dead?
"don't go to phoenix. there's nothing there." but I had a dream once that the person I loved was there. I had a dream that I was supposed to follow. I still haven't gone. I don't know if I will.
the phoenix and its burning wings. the phoenix, reborn out of ashes. the mythology. the symbolism. the analogy.
the idea that a being can rise out of its own destruction. the details differ from culture to culture, but certain elements remain. beauty. fire. death. rebirth.
and a very long life.
what does the phoenix do with its years? what would any creature do? is it wise? is there only one? is it lonely? where does it go? what does it do? who does it love?
these mythologies of long-lived creatures baffle me. I do not understand the strong desire for power and longevity. I don't know what I would do with all the years.
the long-lived in the tale of Gulliver's Travels grow to hate themselves and the world. they grow backwards into senility from the age of 40 onwards. but other mythos, like that of the vampire, talk of ever-lasting youth and beauty. but there's always a price, right?
burn yourself at the end of your 500 or 1000 years. be reborn. or drink the blood of other creatures just to live. hate your existence. I don't know.
why am I so drawn to the phoenix? what loss have I faced? death, and heart break, and liars, and pain. does the phoenix remember its past lives? does it feel the flames? does it scream?
could it ever choose to die and stay dead?
06 October 2010
yeah, it's what we all knew already
last night I had a dream about vampires, but they were vampires like the ones in the book "The Passage." They had twisted, transparent faces that showed the writhing vines of veins beneath the skin. They had leathery bodies and misshapen wings. They devoured, not drained. I had a dream that I went to the woods with a friend and she insisted on staying after dark even though there were vampires in the trees. We only barely escaped the first time. They stayed away from the light, from all light, even artificial. If there was enough shade, though, they would creep in and silently steal you.
I went back to those woods with the same friend two more times. I don't know why. The first time was the most dangerous. The second time we had a car. The third time I brought my own car but didn't know the way home. I didn't want to be stuck again when she decided to stay. But I was anyway.
It was doing something that I knew I would regret, but going along anyway.
It was accompanying someone, thinking things would be different this time, but not having the strength to leave alone.
It was being terrified of dying but putting myself in the position to do so anyway.
It was not succumbing to horrid fear.
It was going forward through my fright and escaping against all odds.
I don't know exactly how this relates to my waking world. I know that I missed classes yesterday and today I called out of work and missed my first class. I know I'm at a turning point, but I'm not sure where I'm going. Yesterday was a day of breakthroughs. My therapist told me, "you are not responsible for your mother's death" and for the first time, I believed it. I told shiny that I loved him and after a long pause, he said, "I love you too" and for the first time it sounded like he meant it. It sounded like he was crying. He cracked for a moment. He closed back up again, but to know that it is possible for him to open is enough for me right now.
I worry that I am putting energy into something that will never pay off.
I worry that this will only lead to pain.
I told him about ex-otter and deafgirl and Oregon last night. More detail than I had before, at least. I told him how death changes things, how it had closed ex-otter off from me but opened him to deafgirl. How that hadn't happened to me. How much I'd been destroyed by ex-otter, how he'd never know how much he'd hurt me, how shiny would never know how much he had hurt me. There is no way to know, just like I never knew how much I had hurt buttercup.
I tried to tell them. No one told me.
We cannot know these things just by wanting to know. We must be taught and told.
I miss them. I miss all of them. I miss feeling wanted and loved and safe.
I miss von's softness and her gentle smile. I miss her eyes. I miss her small fingers and strong, delicate hands. I miss buttercup's anxiety and how he'd sometimes cry against my chest. I miss the way ex-husband would hold me in his lap and rock me and rub my ear to calm me down. I miss small things. So many small things, so that mostly I don't even know if there were big ones.
What is big?
I thought I killed my mom, but it turns out I didn't. Life did.
Isn't that a fuckin' kicker.
I went back to those woods with the same friend two more times. I don't know why. The first time was the most dangerous. The second time we had a car. The third time I brought my own car but didn't know the way home. I didn't want to be stuck again when she decided to stay. But I was anyway.
It was doing something that I knew I would regret, but going along anyway.
It was accompanying someone, thinking things would be different this time, but not having the strength to leave alone.
It was being terrified of dying but putting myself in the position to do so anyway.
It was not succumbing to horrid fear.
It was going forward through my fright and escaping against all odds.
I don't know exactly how this relates to my waking world. I know that I missed classes yesterday and today I called out of work and missed my first class. I know I'm at a turning point, but I'm not sure where I'm going. Yesterday was a day of breakthroughs. My therapist told me, "you are not responsible for your mother's death" and for the first time, I believed it. I told shiny that I loved him and after a long pause, he said, "I love you too" and for the first time it sounded like he meant it. It sounded like he was crying. He cracked for a moment. He closed back up again, but to know that it is possible for him to open is enough for me right now.
I worry that I am putting energy into something that will never pay off.
I worry that this will only lead to pain.
I told him about ex-otter and deafgirl and Oregon last night. More detail than I had before, at least. I told him how death changes things, how it had closed ex-otter off from me but opened him to deafgirl. How that hadn't happened to me. How much I'd been destroyed by ex-otter, how he'd never know how much he'd hurt me, how shiny would never know how much he had hurt me. There is no way to know, just like I never knew how much I had hurt buttercup.
I tried to tell them. No one told me.
We cannot know these things just by wanting to know. We must be taught and told.
I just keep thinking of those vampires, sweeping out of the trees, trying to get to me. Me, hiding in the light. Terrified of shadows.
I think about the catch in shiny's voice, so worried that I misheard what I took to be tears.
I think about the feeling of Oregon, of the hot springs, of looking at a Giger book as ex-otter got his sugar skull tattoo of Dru's birth and death dates. I think about the tiny room we stayed in at his cousin's house, and how I wanted ex-otter and I to have sex but worried it would be inappropriate. I think about the tiny snuffling noises he used to make when he would get naked and crawl under the blanket with me to watch a movie under my loft. I think about how he'd get self-conscious sometimes. How much I loved his body. How much I loved him.
I miss them. I miss all of them. I miss feeling wanted and loved and safe.
I miss von's softness and her gentle smile. I miss her eyes. I miss her small fingers and strong, delicate hands. I miss buttercup's anxiety and how he'd sometimes cry against my chest. I miss the way ex-husband would hold me in his lap and rock me and rub my ear to calm me down. I miss small things. So many small things, so that mostly I don't even know if there were big ones.
What is big?
I thought I killed my mom, but it turns out I didn't. Life did.
Isn't that a fuckin' kicker.
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