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2005 6 March :: 2.37pm
actually, it's not even about -- it's about finding someone 'worthy' of giving my heart to. all things considered.
that sounds so goddamn arrogant, but it's true. i have ridiculously high standards. weh.
.come get your knife.
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2005 3 March :: 1.46am
. . . i act like a rape victim. i mean, what the FUCK.
i've never been. not even touched, not against my will.
andyetandyetandyet.
what the almighty fuck is wrong with me.
.come get your knife.
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2005 27 February :: 7.42pm
it's when she leans agains the wall [lichen, cracks in the cement, rust. her eyewhites are yellowed and everything else seemed decayed. she's one with the city today.] and nearly collapses, standing shivering on the edge of tears.
and i try to say, how could anyone. possibly.
and her posture changes slightly and the strength neither of us knew she had straightens her enough to look right into me, and she says, i know i'm not the only one.
and i think she's right. has to be. for my own sake.
.come get your knife.
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2005 23 February :: 7.27pm
Everyone I've ever talked to about this says that I deserve better. Maybe I'm not saying it right. Maybe I'm leaving things out, inserting emphasis where it doesn't belong, blowing up the angst and whine like I always do.
[--]
"It sounds like he's had this thing for Claire the whole time."
"Oh, he's had it for years. [etc.]"
"I mean, when you were down here, he would talk on the phone with her, I could tell the, the connection th--"
"Oh, god, you should see the two of them together. He's like a mother hen."
"Aaaah, well, that sucks, but you really deserve better than that."
"[noncommital grunt]"
My mother speaks with a great deal of commas.
[--]
"That's the thing, though, is he doesn't really give a shit about me one way or the other. All he ever wanted was Claire. Still is."
[--]
He could be content with anyone, but only she can make him happy. He has no standards because none can measure up to her. He's not looking for love, just companionship, something to make the ache go away. But it won't, ever. And unless he finds someone who can tolerate being perpetually second best, it'll continue to fuck things up.
I swear I want nothing more than to bury his pretty little face in the cement.
.come get your knife.
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2005 22 February :: 5.52pm
And it still fucking burns whenever he mentions her.
Maroon 5. She Will Be Loved. FUCK you.
.come get your knife.
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2005 21 February :: 5.12pm
And I was captured by her loneliness
A wounded tiger on the willowy path
Like an opalescent moon all alone
In the sky of a foreign land
Emo shit, I know. But still.
.come get your knife.
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2005 21 February :: 3.38pm
I never liked the idea of "relationships." To do all this with someone and yet mean so little to them. If I am to mean nothing to a person than I would rather there be no pretense. If I am to be meaningles then let it lay flat on the table with its face to the sky and let everyone know what it is.
But everything is shades of grey, I realize.
.come get your knife.
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2005 20 February :: 3.08pm
hm. lonely. hm.
makes me wonder if . . . a lot of things.
.come get your knife.
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2005 16 February :: 9.30pm
This hurts, this hurts, this hurts, this hurts.
I remember that point three [was it really so long ago?] years ago when I
collapsed in the garage, between the shelving. "I just . . . can't . . . take this anymore."
Same thoughts tonight. I thought, I can survive the day. I thought, things will be better tomorrow.
I can't sleep.
Haven't been able to for weeks.
I'm fucking exhausted, tired, so goddamn lonely.
I want
[Jim, always. always always always.]
I want Icey, he distracts me from myself. He'll let me cry on his shoulder.
Soomething, this is unfinished but it usually is.
.come get your knife.
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2005 16 February :: 5.30pm
& i still want to . . .
yes, i know
i still keep thinking of that future that never was, because it's
still the only one i have and
i still want him back
and
and
.
after a day of screaming at me -- i needed it, she enjoyed it, it kept me on my feet -- she holds me and whispers. i know, baby, i know. playing with the hair i no longer have. i wish i
.come get your knife.
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2005 15 February :: 9.29pm
& sometimes it just sneaks up and devours from the inside out. I've got that song stuck in my head, the one he used to sing at me back when it mattered, "I don't mind spending every day out on your corner in the pouring rain. Look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay awhile. And she will be loved, and she will be loved . . ."
But with experience comes knowing that he meant it more for her. Always for her. Everything for her.
Can I blame him? No. I feel the same thing for him. I know how it dominates. There's a portion of your heart you can only give away to one person in each lifetime. For me, that's him. For him, it's her. I pray that I'm right in assuming Claire and Dan's are each other . . .
Trilogy, and least of it. I can never bring myself to believe otherwise.
He existed mostly as a figment of my imagination. And I think I as his. I'm so sick of long-distance relationships. So sick of being lonely, of waiting on a chance and a might-be. Of spending less than a month, total, with the love of my life.
C'est la vie. As much as I hate it, I know I just have to move on.
.come get your knife.
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2005 9 February :: 10.06am
. . . iwillgetoverthis. iwillgetoverthis. . .
shittiest goddamn mardi gras ever.
i'm fucking sick of love. of having it. [then again, i always have been.]
i will spend every minute of every day waiting for you to contact me. until someday i realize you're not. going. to.
on that day i'll begin to heal.
. . . rest later.
.come get your knife.
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2005 7 February :: 10.31pm
i want the last six months of my life back.
i want to change it all around.
i want to make it right.
[i want to do right by you.]
give me a time machine, god. this is really pissing me off.
[it's what they call, "regret."]
.come get your knife.
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2005 2 February :: 7.04pm
no. it's not okay.
.come get your knife.
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2005 1 February :: 6.23pm
. . . Surreal and stupid. Clouds on the sky, seagulls and ice. Wind. The same goddamn rocks, the same goddamn urges. To break [people].
It apparently isn't a problem. He has been up to no good as well. I am relieved. Or, I should be. But yet somehow . . . don't get me wrong, I'm not jealous in the least. Nor bothered by either of us fucking other people.
No, the part that gets me . . . [& put aside your need for metaphors, for imagery, for making so much more intense than it really is.] is that even in the middle of it, all I can think of is Jim.
Dead center of probably the best fuck I'll ever get and I suddenly want to cry from loneliness. What? Someone explain this to me, please. Someone make it all make sense, make it all better, make it all go away. Someone please, for the love of god, plug up this hole in my heart. It hurts.
I finally believe in him, far too late to do anything about it. Maybe, if I'm lucky and clever, I can see him in May. Maybe not.
.come get your knife.
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2005 30 January :: 2.24pm
Thieves, whores, and addicts. Once and always.
No, let's stop framing the question in flowers and sunlight.
Once a cheater, always a cheater. Fucking hell.
He asked me (less then a month ago, jebuz) "will you cheat on me." & i said no.
Technically, I just did.
& what bothers me most is I want to do it again.
I could care less about the sex, but it's the interplay that gets to me. The being sexy. The being so close to someone, feeling his shoulder under my arm. Kisses.
& at the same time I love it, & at the same time I am revulsed.
shitshitshitshit.
Didn't believe me when I said I wasn't worth it, did you boy?
Guess that makes you a fool twice over.
(What the hell is wrong with me: What have I become, my sweetest friend.)
I will let you down, I will make you hurt.
.come get your knife.
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2005 30 January :: 5.39am
you know, if this were anyone else, i would say, it's only human, don't beat yourself up about it. yeah, it was a shit thing to do, but don't beat yourself up about it. over and over, always the forgiveness. because what are friends for.
but this is me.
& i am the judge, jury, and executioner.
i can't live like this. fuck. not for another two years. not for another five. fuck. fuck fuck fuck.
i missed you the second i realized i was leaving.
i think this may have been the last time
oh, god. i just want to . . .
.come get your knife.
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2005 29 January :: 5.59pm
You know. Reading over old entries I realized just how . . . uptight I was. & that was only a couple of weeks ago.
Somehow I've learned to relax. Not to worry about it.
That scares me, it's always when I'm happy that I do the most harm.
.come get your knife.
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2005 29 January :: 5.30pm
Originality is for naught, but only in one such as I. Where did the Underground go? What the fuck happened to neverland, to effigy, to Jeezum, why am I so obsessed with killing them all off?
Oh. Right. Jim.
I killed Sab for his sake. Once. In hindsight, at this particular moment, it seems a grevious error. A hideously inhuman act of cold-blooded murder. Butbackmeuponthis: She wanted to die and I know it, I wanted her gone and I know it, I was trying to be this person Shi had brought from within me but--
I killed that too.
Perhaps that is what bothers me most, really, is the girl that Jim met and fell for in Mississippi is not who I am today. I am who I was before I ever met her and now . . . I'm not sure if I'm even capable of coexisting with anyone. This endless circle/spiral . . .
I destroyed the Underground, or they destroyed themselves. Perhaps from too much publicity, perhaps from too little, perhaps it was simply never strong enough to hold its own. Perhaps I needed to be a little more like her [youknow] and keep it all in until it burst forth to devour me.
Maybe I just need to draw more.
I want to speak to them, feel them, become enfolded in them like I used to, but they all smack of death and failure now. Everyone that ever was is dead, even the self-proclaimed "survivor." Jim may have knocked things around a little, but all he really did was sped up the rate of my own decay. Until there was nothing left.
I want/ed to die, so badly. If he hadn't told me it would destroy him to kill myself, I would have. Would still. I live not for the sake of living but for the sake of not harming him.
I suppose it makes about as much sense as clinging to the hope of ever seeing ][.
I dunno, man. I feel so human. It leaves me so lost.
.come get your knife.
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2005 21 January :: 11.20pm
http://www.livejournal.com/users/peaceicon/240632.html
& i find myself wondering what i would do if i ever became pregnant. knee-jerk reaction: kill it. don't spare the sympathy, just off the fucking thing.
barring some random rape, though, it'd be half jim's. i could never kill a child of his. it's so surreal, realizing that even though i technically donated hal fthe dna i would still consider it entirely his, myself nothing but an incubator.
[i was serious when i said i'd carry their child. her egg, his sperm, my womb. & i could get my tubes tied and--
what.
give up? forever?
]
i'm slightly drunk and very depressed, these tend to go hand in hand. the room does not yet spin.
he said, i could have the baby and just give it to him. he'd take it back to california and be a sinlge father and.
i couldn't. fucking. stand that.
it's mine. MINE. my responsibility. my child. my.
like shillowe said, "i'd get too attached, i know i would."
but i couldn't raise it.
but i couldn't leave it.
but i but i but i. arg.
i know if i ever have kid/s i will give it/them so many fucking mental problems . . . genetically if not socially. [my grandfather was depressed. suicide. never met him.] i'd be a shit mother and that scares me. scares me because i would still try. and i would be watching this person that i love beyond all words grow into possibly a version of myself. i don't wish that on anyone.
if any child of mine turns out like me, it'll break my fucking heart.
i guess that's my point. if i even have one.
[it's all hypothetical anyway. i won't even see him for another three months, at best. so whatever, eh.]
.come get your knife.
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