:: 2004 6 November :: 9.57 am

How different would things have been, would I have been, if I had gone to Colorado? Would I still be madly fucking pining in love with Corwin? [Probably.] Would it matter?

Being somewhere where I do not rely on my parents. Where what money I have/make is mine to do with as I please, and I had better goddamn well be careful with it 'cuz there are bills to pay. It would.

And yet, still. I would hide. And yet, still. I would be a child forever until that magical neck-snapping back-breaking eye-gouging moment of clarity.

Which I just woke up into.

It was never the Air Force that remade me. Yes, I was different after Basic. But that was shell-shock. That was fear and paranoia and knowing that in a panic situation I can sometimes do what I need to do regardless of the worms that are tearing apart my intestines. Tech School had little enough effect on me, I was a snail that brought my "home" my illusion of fucking worthlessness with me and lived in it. Presumably forever.

It was meeting Shillowe that changed me. That allowed me to embrace those parts of myself that everyone had always told me [or more accurately, that I had always told myself] were sinful. Were wrong. Were not what a good child does.

Sex is just the tip of the iceburg. She tought me to love the fact that I am a freak by society, to embrace and enjoy the wierd and the out there and that which had always been to me beautiful but I was so sure that everyone else would hate me for it. She accepted it. She more than accepted it, she loved it too. She loved me for it. And I loved her for it.

[Lest you get the wrong impression -- I have never and would never screw Shillowe. She's my adopted big sister, she tought me everything of how to be, everything which in my fear of losing Jim or any chance at someone like Jim I rejected. But it was never her teachings that were the problem, it was what I had done with them. A child on its own for the first time is bound to make a few mistakes. I've made mine.]

Shillowe is one of those people who you feel so completely accepted, so completely yourself around . . . it was great, and it freed me from myself. The hard part now is getting it back. The hard part is not letting my fear, not letting Sab's fucked up idea of reality, drag me back down into that hole that I have been living in all my life.

I'm back down here, but. If I just stand up. Put my hands on the walls. And pull.

Ha.

myxomatosis

:: 2004 3 November :: 9.38 am

well, fuck. i had fully intended for there to be a nanonovel this year, i really had.

i wrote about four hundred words on it last night and it rankled the whole way through. i've lost touch with the characters, irreversibly. more to the point, i'm not sure anymore if theirs is a story that really needs to be told.

i wrote four hundred words today on glitter & achmed. don't know whether i'll continue with this or not. but they [and what they represent] are all i can think about right now. yeah, sure, the four-dimensional fish and the men in black and saving the universe from the forces of ecch are all very nice, but what really matters is those two.

what really matters is how i'm projecting myself upon them. how i'm no glitter.

but i've got to find some way to dispel this rage. get some sleep. i stayed up all sunday night, jus to read his livejournal. why? because 9/10ths of it was about his ex-girlfriend.

because he's the sort of guy that falls so completely in love with someone that nothing else matters. and it was beautiful to watch. and it hurt like a bitch. and in the morning i felt silent, tired, and wise.

but then it all came crashing down, i guess. i haven't been sleeping well and. i guess. i.

he says he loves me. i can't fathom that. or what to do with it. & all i can think about is what it felt like to be held. watching him sleep. all of that shit.

i fall too hard, every time. and i never quite recover.

and this other side of it, what sab's doing to/for/with me . . . yes, i want to be silence. yes, i want power and his form of perfection. yes, i want to be able to break people.

but i also want to relax. and just feel it wash over me again.

le blarg. arg arg.

myxomatosis

:: 2004 31 October :: 7.56 pm

you want to know why i felt like breaking your neck? why sometimes i want nothing more than to slam that beautiful face of yours into a cement wall? feel the crack as you break . . .

it said, somewhere about a year ago, something about you leading people on . . . juggling girls . . . yes, well. it's true. you do. i know you don't mean to. you don't even know you're doing it.

but my god man. this hurts so much.

unrequited love is a kick in the face to begin with, but then you keep dangling the slight chance at being with you in front of my face . . . never close enough to touch.

i fall too hard. & i so fucked this up. i'm sorry, but i don't know what for. [why do you call me? we never talk . . .]

i want more than anything. for you to feel for me what you did. but you can't. and you never will. and i.

god. damn. this. hurts.

1 in | myxomatosis

:: 2004 30 October :: 9.49 pm

I wish I had gone to college in Colorado.

Fuck.

Right now, all I want is friends. Right now, all I have is an all-consuming loathing for those few people who are physically around me. And that makes the isolation from those who really matter all the more poignent.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck it.

I'm so goddamn alone.

myxomatosis

:: 2004 30 October :: 9.42 am

you'vegottobefuckingkiddingme

Jeezum, I'm shaking. Jeezum! Jeezum. jeezumjeezumjeezumjeezum

goodFUCKINGchrist

he's muffled by the mask. i wish someone else could hear it. feel it. anyone else. speech imprediments. sab had braces, once. nothing wrong with her teeth, just metal in her mouth. metal in my mouth. olympian. jeezumi'mshaking. stop it!

he is the voice of an adult man disgusted by the incomptetance of a child. he is my father screaming at my brother for not being potty-trained. he is the disgust i bear for myself.

this goes beyond effigy's filth.

jeezum, i'm shaking, i'm shaking. jeezum. please.

speech impediments. the monster in the cell.

he's muffled in that mask.

sounds like . . .

1 in | myxomatosis