Take Another Look











{May 15, 2010}   focus

other options.

fuck this one true love crap. i’m getting tired of it.

(i hope. )

it’s not the fucking movies. and why does my memory seem to conveniently forget all the slights i felt?

brenden says love is a delusion two people choose to continue. he said it in a less clinical way, okay?

confused. only way back is through focus.

must find my focus again.

what is hard is that i cant handle pressure very well. on the tiniest things. even when i want to.  i think i mean i lose my desire in the pressure. it’s like a trigger goes off in my brain. suddenly the perfect time turns into a whirl. the past sits there like a smug prick, laughing at me. making me flip. making me confused.  once i was a girl and i couldnt set boundaries. Then, I didnt want to set boundaries. And then I set a boundary and learned it had emotional consequences. my friends didnt go home happy. i didnt let them sleep off their drinks, i didn’t let them do this, i didn’t do this.. i was no fucking fun! It’s easier to set boundaries when you don’t care. That is for sure. It’s much harder when everything seems to turn in on itself.

brendon said that sex is different for addicts. he says that addicts either make it out to be precious, or are completely cynical and detached about it.

maybe im not enough of an addict type.

ps. honesty can always be bargained with.

what is my moral center????? is it something you can temporarily misplace? is it something you can dance around, or trick? Is it something you don’t want to touch because once you touch it you can never go back? Is it too late?

I used to believe fate was made. Need to have the faith that fate is still there guiding actions. Can’t make up my own fate. I’ve tried, lol.

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{May 7, 2010}   ant lady

She looks like an ant, with her weathered leather skin and her scrawny but long neck. She has folds on her forehead and she sits there as if she is daring me to say how bad she is. But I never do. I just continue trying to make her work. A busted car, an engine that won’t putter on anymore. I sit in the car and imagine the feel of driving.

Riding in one of those new cars, there was lots of power, not so much finesse. But the driver revved it up past 120 miles on lone dark roads and it felt as if my feet were floating above the ground and I was spinning without getting dizzy.

None of that with the ant lady. I don’t know what happened to her but I did things right, and I’m not right a lot of the time. So her lack of creativity in responding to my streaks of memory make starting over with somebody else all the less appealing. Your first time you really give it your all. But then after a while you keep comparing your all to that first time.
Before you knew you had limits.



{March 19, 2010}   twilight

Scared
Sleep won’t come
Can hear the birds tentative songs
The cars are empty
My clock ticks
Can you be the most sensitive and still be tough and take things out and still be ok
This place feels beaten up like it was trashed
Kind of like my insides?
I’ve been alone so long it is easy to return to not knowing what caring feels like- I think I was fooled the whole time, he probably just liked my age and was a sicko. It is the most reasonable reason right now. Otherwise he would have tried to contact me.
Christina called me I need to call her back. It is hard when you and your friends can’t seem to climb out of the situations you are in. I don’t know where to go. I am not so angry now. I feel a loss of hope that transcends the birdsong

Maybe nothing transcends the birdsong

The hate won’t go away it pushes up against me raping me with its force

Take it away..- I am too sad to deal with any force at all. A gun in my hands is just a weapon that falls on the floor and who knows who might pick it up



{March 16, 2010}   thrashing

i want to write a lullaby that is also a requiem… something sweet has to come out of all this thrashing.Something of music to myself, like Neil Cassady in White Collar finding the music box. But does he go all haywire when he finds out Kate was just conning him? We haven’t finished the storyline, and we don’t know for sure, and being a romantic, I still say Fowler might have her, but being the character and hero he is he finds violence banal and mundane. The cons who have known him taunt him, saying he never could get his hands dirty.

Back to the upsets. The thrashing has mostly been tonight. It calmed me down,all that thrashing, that it did, but my anger had no direction. Well, maybe one direction, one target, one I keep being angry at because of the things they don’t do, the precautions they don’t take, the truths they don’t tell themselves at night.. I’m not usually angry like that, and it was easy to blame it on the fever that took over my life, made me delirious, but mostly it seemed to overshadow everything inside my head and all of a sudden I found every good memory burned to a crisp. And so I no longer cared. I no longer cared at all and something in me wanted blood. I felt untied from any attraction I had ever had to this person. I used to care so much that I would imagine a shield protecting them, a soft shield enveloping them, and I would be next to them… or want to me. For a few hours I only could  feel  the bright whoosh that comes when you’re knocked out. The tumble of the sound of whooshing in my ears,  the sight of stars, and most of all the pressure.  A wounded animal is the most dangerous kind of animal is what they say.  The target of my anger only responded in a way that created more pain, and I just felt shame, the dangerous kind that tests your limits. Then I receive a nice reply from a friend, a friend that never had to try so hard to be a friend. Maybe we’ve had our upsets and our downs, and we don’t keep in touch as much as we should, but there is something different about my target that I feel that the friendship deserves a lot of time. Certain people, you can pick up wherever you left off. Other people, they belong in your life every day, and without that, you hate them for their absence. It might not be fair, it might not be just, but you know they aren’t even giving one percent, and how can you look past that, when you gave so much more, and would give so much more. And they can never look at the whole picture, think about how much they let me down, and how little anger I have expressed, and think for maybe one minute this isn’t about them, it’s about me needing to express my anger at them. I don’t care how they find it, and if the timing is inopportune then it’s their fault for not ever being available and ignoring every humane chance there is.  I think maybe there comes a time where I should walk away, but right now I am so blinded by the stars and the rage and the fall that I don’t know. I need a reason to care again, for it’s been taken away from me. And in its place is a beating drum, a knife, bullets, guns,  a kind of violence I find barbaric.
At least I am back at that stage in my life where I don’t care if the rest of my life is alone again.

I have blocked out the shrieking noises….And I have blocked out the idea that they care.. or ever did care and are nothing more than a loser.. Okay it is hard for me to believe they are a loser but I somehow lost something of heart when I burned passed normal temperatures… Or so I think… and the only imprint of the steps  taken are being washed away by the ocean.



et cetera