I said, "What about tomorrow?"
She said, "What about tonight?..

"...Trust me baby, it'll be alright."

My name is Casey

Like Most Revelations

It is the movement that incites the form,
discovered as a downward rapture--yes,
it is the movement that delights the form,
sustained by its own velocity.And yet

it is the movement that delays the form
while darkness slows and encumbers; in fact
it is the movement that betrays the form,
baffled in such toils of ease, until

it is the movement that deceives the form,
beguiling our attention--we supposed
it is the movement that achieves the form.
Were we mistaken? What does it matter if

it is the movement that negates the form?
Even though we give (give up) ourselves
to this mortal process of continuing,
it is the movement that creates the form.

Richard Howard


You turn to me with frozen lips
Your hands are icy cold
Your eyes burn bright against the frostbit sky
You never seemed more lovely than you do tonight
Pale on the horizon,
Like leaves frozen on the snow
Our two shadows merge inseperably
And time stands still as its pierced with cold

The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you

There's a warmth in my heart
That haunts me when you're gone
Mend me to your side,
Never let go
So time knows nothing
We'll never grow cold
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you
Twilight descends on our silhouette
How soon spring comes
How soon spring forgets
I wanna hold time, say it'll never begin
Old man winter, be our friend
Old man winter, be our friend
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
What's simple is true
I love you
I love you



designed by jo naz


Saturday, March 05, 2005

 

I love you-- today's a silly day, I know... One that you don't value very much, and one that in reality means nothing to either of us, I love who you are now not who you were. Just try to tollerate the silly ones, remember that you're my everything... Smile, baby, I love you.

I love you |10:31 AM

 


Tuesday, March 01, 2005

 

Today has brought with it things I've not wanted to face, and it's still early. A recognition of rejection, a challenge to my talent, a near loss of something I love.... I feel sick to my stomache. Las night brought too much, today brings more... a studious unfurling of all those lies I told to a stranger over the phone.

I want to stop dilluting myself. I tell myself that I can make a difference, that my words have power, that in some way the balance of the world can be changed in some small way by me. Oh, I change small small aspects of lives and moments, but all I want is to know that I've mad a difference-- the sort that matters.

I feel like I'm out of control of old powers- people are drawn to me that I don't wish to be, and i see my sexuallity gaining more leverage, i think things I know I don't mean. I find myself contemplating past mistakes and wondering of their wrongness, and in some way appreciating this vertigo I have because it feels like the old days. I feel like I'm degenerating, I feel weak.

I feel like I need to cry but I can't... I just can't cry for him, for myself, for my mistakes anymore.

I love you |7:12 AM

 


Tuesday, February 15, 2005

 

Andrew... I feel I owe you something. I have a stack of papers sitting complacently on my desk, pages of stationary and sentiment and paper and poetry-- full of words I have to offer to you, that never seem to quite represent what I beg them to. I have a letter to you, 7 pages on white lined paper with gray ink, explaining what it is to hear you breathe. I have poetry that tries to explain every moment of our relationship, everything I've ever remembered about him, about me, about us, about the places we were in, the people that saw us, the people that know us, the things that happen to us, everything. I have all of this in an attempt to explain what I know I cannot.

I asked Dr. Miller what he thought one should do when words simply are not enough. He told me not to speak, and smiled to me with the knowing smile of a man who has loved before.

Andrew, i want to lay breathlessly with you, almost too hot underneath of the blankets, my mouth agape with wonderment, my cheek pressed to yours, my arms wrapped tight around you, my body entwined in yours, my heart pounding... I want to lie with you and sense everything about your body and be absolutely silent in reverence and happiness and love.

I want that, and I want it every day for the rest of my life.

I love you-- Valentine's day was yesterday, but I will love you every moment of every day, regardless of any saint or religion or reality. I will be yours, and worship you for keeping me.

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine.

I love you |6:02 PM

 


Monday, February 07, 2005

 

It is your rage I wear;
Dark stained alabaster
Marking me as your girl
Call me your little girl?
Love me with your passion--
You're acting of passion
Tearing at the building
Made with no foundation.
I stand defiantly
Inside the paper walls
To protect me from your
Passion, deep and moving passion,
Love me with your passion!
Bruise me with your passion!
Bracing for your passion,
I wait for the last huff
And puff of yours-- bad wolf
Pausing for the ashes--
Ashes, we all fall down.
You make us both fall down.
Father, please understand,
Your need to destroy me
Defines and erodes me
So we both fall deeply
Careening down towards earth
A fall from grace-- blame me
Wings of wax you made me
It is your rage I wear!
I can feel it on me
I can feel it dripping
Down my skin, scarlet wings
Mottled delicate wings...
Blame me for my fall, please!
I took it so ill-equipped,
Call me your little girl!
Love me with your passion!
It is your pain I feel!
In fists and screams, I feel
Daddy, its not my fault
Go ahead and blame me:
Go ahead and break me!
Break my spirit and my
Meaning, please do daddy
Please let me hurt for you
'Til we see eye to eye

I love you |6:29 PM

 


Saturday, February 05, 2005

 

today is too much... i am too much.

i can't think straight. everything just feels wrong and all I know for sure is that i love andrew with every ounce of my being, and that I am very sorry...

I asked the forbidden question. we probably both think about it more then we'd like to let on.

I wonder if I will end in my own furious fire or the world's slow and merciless ice.

Cake or death?
- I don't know. Is the cake nonfat?

...perhaps the humor is wasted on you. there are people that would find that hilarious.

I know better than that. I know I do... I know that I must be at least worth something if I have people who care for me so deeply...

I hate the idea that he hurt without me and I'm lucky enough to have his help... I hate it. I hate the idea that I might make him feel sad or helpless when I call him in pieces... sometimes I hate that he's the only thing that makes me even want to be put back togehter, and then I hate even more that I can't pick up the pieces myself. I don't have armor. i have vices. vicues upon vices upon vices.

I can feel it growing sometimes though... an honest belief in what he says. I just can't imagine him lying to me.

I love you |8:43 PM

 


Monday, January 31, 2005

 

Why am I being so manic? I'm not acting like myself and I know it.. I'm watching myself with the cool detachment of someone a million miles away, laughing at my stupidity. I feel no pain for the girl I watch. I used to feel embarrassed for her.

So very manic. Obsessively performing my piece again and again and again.

Know thou sad sir
Know thou sad sir
Know thou sad sir

Emphasis. EMPHasis. EmphAsis. EmphaSIS. Left step, no right step, no hold still, hands in front, behind, in hair, at chest, down straight, reaching out

Trying and trying and trying to seem real

Rings a bell, somehow.

Tie my hair up. Pull it down. To one side. To the other. Curly? Straight? Lip gloss?

I'm pathetic. Sometimes, I suppose, especially after a period of malnutrition, my mind just shuts down and won't allow for anything but vain and stupid thinking.

I understand Tamora. I understand her hate for this man she's trying to seduce, the cruelty of her persona but the insecurity that lies within. I understand her manipulation. I can show that. I CAN.

It's strange now that I'm paying attention to what I'm doing. no homework. no debate. poetry, feed my poetry and literature and intellect. feed me instantaneous gratification that I don't have to learn, I just have to understand. My sex drive has gone way up, I find it hard to concentrate.

You know, in the old days I would call this an "up cycle"... apparently thinking was depressing. I'm not sure.

I'll have to be more careful. I'm slacking. I will not give them ammunition.

I love you |9:30 PM

 


Sunday, January 30, 2005

 

I hate this feeling. I hate this feeling because I knew it would come. I've known it would come since I saw Jacqui perform Wasted in her frail willowy body perfectly believable in the role of self-loathing anorexic. I've felt a deep-seeded obsession with this book, knowing that something of me was in it... and it was. Of course, there's something of one's self in every book.. inevitable, i'm afraid. However, this book brought me memories of things I didn't want to remember, recalled in me feelings I had so far repressed.

It is as if the world has mounted against me. In the book, Marya so casually mentions that she shredded her arms to bits on the side, when she wasn't being anorexic, when she got bored, that's what she did. Elaine so coolly showing me pictures of her torn wrists.

It started with that familiar nervous feeling at lunch. That, "Oh, fuck there's nothing on this menu under 200 calories and that's all I'm allowed on sundays!!" panic. The 3 glasses of water i ate before dinner. The delicate plucking of leaves of lettuces not drenched in salad, the picking picking picking eternal picking of rice and vegetables. The adamant refusal for cookies or pie or sundaes. The uncharacteristic 3 slices of pizza at dinner with a real (not diet) soda to make up for that silly thing I know I did.

I hate this feeling because it reminds me so much of who I was and stupid things I've left behind "just in case." Just in case I ever need to return to old habits. Just in case it's like it was

It's not like it was. I don't want it to be. It's changed, I've changed, I'm stronger and I don't need it anymore.

i know i'm chemically unstable right now, which was part of the fun of being on deprovera, never dealing with this monthly cycle of lunacy... i know i'm chemically unstable right now but unlike the norm i feel like i can't control it. I stood for a full 30 minutes contemplating the size of my ass in the mirror, staring at the grotesque hugeness of my breasts in the picture off of VBdaily... Uncontrollably gawking at how much of myself there is.

I need to ground myself... i feel like falling to pieces

But I can write this right now instead of doing so.

i need to be touched.

I love you |8:43 PM

 


Thursday, January 27, 2005

 

It's strange now, to sit in my room silent but for the endless patter of rain, heavy on my window, glancing gently at the pages of carefully scrawled poetry that I've perused countless infinities of times in the preceding weeks. It's strange to have just gotten off the phone with him, bid him good morning, let him know how happy I was, and sent him on his way. It's strange the way we spent time last night looking for rings, something that could in some way become a concrete symbol for us and our love, something that could remain beautiful for the eternity that our love will remain strong.

It's strange because I'm happy, and until him I just wasn't quite used to that.

I'm happy because I have him. I'm happy because I love him, we love eachother, and this isn't the sort of love one could possibly walk away from or want to walk away from. I'm happy because neither of us want to walk away. I'm happy because in less than a year (something to the tune of 49 weeks) I will be where he is, we will be together everyday without question. His parents will marvel at the sudden end to the 15,000 minutes on the phone bill, blissfully unaware that we've traded such petty amounts for time for all out constancy. I know we'll have to spend an amount of time apart... but to see his face and feel his touch every day will be incredible. By then we'll have been together for just over a year and a half... Just over a few eternities.

It's silly for us to use time as a measure for the amount of time together... The days I spend without him are both eternally slow and brilliantly quick paced. The days I spend with him exist in a realm beyond reality, and when the day is over it feels as if time has fled so quickly, but while it is happening the world seems to stop. Time, as intangible as it was, is only more so now. what little about it that once was concrete has now become entirely abstract. My heart, my brain, and my watch all seem to keep different times. My brain tells me the days are fleeting, that with such hindsight I have only just met him. My heart tells me that the world has quietly resigned to timelessness... and my watch ticks ticks ticks marking seconds that mean nothing because i'm not in his arms.

Somehow, when I'm not in his arms I'm positive that I am some formless mass... he gives me shape.

I love you |6:01 AM

 


Sunday, January 23, 2005

 

Let this post serve only as a note to self.

Today has taken a turn for the worse.

Suffice it to say that I thought I could write it here, but I think best not to spread this feeling too far. The ramifications are too much for me to handle on top of this.

(red leather journal under this date for more information)

I love you |7:54 PM

 


Tuesday, January 18, 2005

 

I've been waiting for a while until I could write this... working it out in my head, trying to figure out precisely what it is I feel... what I felt...

I know I need to write this-- not because the event itself needs words, but because it deserves words.

When I am with him, I feel like I don't need oxygen anymore. In fact, all of those low and ingrained necessities seem to flee with the immensity of my need for him. When I kiss him I don't want to stop to breathe, I'm breathing through him. His lips are a channel for my life... He sustains me.

When we touch, a hand traced across the cheek, grasping at his back, pushing hands across skin, I feel as if I've been tattooed with a sign of his caresses, and as if I were doing the same to him. It's as if I can see what I've been painting in my mind with poetry, painting wet on wet, deep lusty pigments traced by his hands across my glistening skin. I feel like those touches are eternal. I know they must be, because this is a past I will not let go of.

There's something about when I'm with him that changes how I'm supposed to be. I can remember all of those things that have happened, and I can know they are real... I can remember pain... but I don't need to withdraw, to cry, to feel pain. I can remember and I can smile, laugh... I can be so happy because of how different it is now.

When I try to explain how I feel when I'm with him, I'm at a loss for words... I have a silly simile, but it doesn't begin to explain. You can take a whole host of noises, of laughing screaming speaking yelling, and compress them into one sound a milisecond long. All of those different things, everything, every noise that has ever existed they all make one overwhelming thing that is almost painful and so beautiful but mostly incredibly intense. When I'm with him, I feel like every emotion possible explodes inside of me every millisecond.

I don't know how I can explain... and I know I don't need to... because he knows... and that's so perfect.

I love you |7:07 AM

 


Wednesday, January 05, 2005

 

I'm half wishing for someone to call me and speak in monotonous tones the longstanding and established formallity of small talk... and I'm half wishing that the world would stay just as it is now; completely frozen around me. I feel as if I am the last person alive, and it's in its own way quite liberating.

I've had a strange conversation running through my mind... one I've never had. Perhaps it will evolve itself into a short story.

"Do you trust me?"
"Of course, I believe everything you tell me."
"Would you believe me if I told you I was a pathological liar?"
"I would have to... I take every word from your mouth as an instantaneous universal truth."
"And if I told you I didn't exist?"
"I would trust in your intangibility."
"If I said I didn't exist within your mind."
"I suppose I wouldn't have to believe a word you said then, would I?"

I need motivation. School has a way of doing that, completely unmotivating me. There are useful things I could be doing now, but I'd rather just stare slowly at the wall and concentrate deeply on the pain within my chest. Perhaps I've loved so deeply it will kill me. Perhaps the immensity has finally brought my heart to its bursting point and my chest is throbbing frantically, attempting to return things to normal.

No, I don't ever want to be returned to normal. And I don't think I could survive being alone for too long... there was a time I could have done it unblinkingly... Not anymore. There was a time he could have done it without noticing. Are those days gone?

A friend of mine seems more lonely and troubled than I know how to help. I don't feel so helpless as I should, but I don't let that bother me... The only power we will ever have is within ourselves.

I love you |2:20 PM

 



 

I'm half wishing for someone to call me and speak in monotonous tones the longstanding and established formallity of small talk... and I'm half wishing that the world would stay just as it is now; completely frozen around me. I feel as if I am the last person alive, and it's in its own way quite liberating.

I've had a strange conversation running through my mind... one I've never had. Perhaps it will evolve itself into a short story.

"Do you trust me?"
"Of course, I believe everything you tell me."
"Would you believe me if I told you I was a pathological liar?"
"I would have to... I take every word from your mouth as an instantaneous universal truth."
"And if I told you I didn't exist?"
"I would trust in your intangibility."
"If I said I didn't exist within your mind."
"I suppose I wouldn't have to believe a word you said then, would I?"

I need motivation. School has a way of doing that, completely unmotivating me. There are useful things I could be doing now, but I'd rather just stare slowly at the wall and concentrate deeply on the pain within my chest. Perhaps I've loved so deeply it will kill me. Perhaps the immensity has finally brought my heart to its bursting point and my chest is throbbing frantically, attempting to return things to normal.

No, I don't ever want to be returned to normal. And I don't think I could survive being alone for too long... there was a time I could have done it unblinkingly... Not anymore. There was a time he could have done it without noticing. Are those days gone?

A friend of mine seems more lonely and troubled than I know how to help. I don't feel so helpless as I should, but I don't let that bother me... The only power we will ever have is within ourselves.

I love you |2:07 PM

 


Friday, December 31, 2004

 

hmm... you know what's silly? Me and andrew's trip to the movies was most definitely our first proper date. We'll just ignore how it ended, which realistically only makes it more proper.

I met his parents yesterday... I'm not sure what I think about it. We chatted, I was amiable... Everyone was friendly in general.. and apparently his mother thinks I'm smarter than Honey.

I guess I just grew up in a different atmosphere concerning dating. I'm waiting for them to say something else, knowing that they've all said their opinions in their own little way. My family is, to say the least, blunt. I called my mother and she informed me that andrew was wonderful for me, that she's so glad I left zack, that he's such a nice well mannered boy, and that he seems to make me genuinely happy. But then again, my mother has never been interested in my grades or me getting distracted or any of that. She just wants me to be happy, and she figures I know how to best do that.

Andrew's family is really the opposite of mine in that way... they care so much about him. Sometimes in the wrong way, I get the sense... But nonetheless they care passionately about every aspect of his life, and that passion makes them want to control it. If I am an aspect of his life they can't control well I wonder if they'd resent me. Realistically I'm blanketing his whole family but that's not what I mean at all. You know. I know you do.

So here is the dilemma: they are controlling, this isn't going to change, and if they don't like me I'll never have any time with him. And his time is something I value greatly. The idea of spending a week walking the beaches with him is just so utterly phenomenal... Sitting on a pier and watching the sun go down while I lay in his arms, my attention torn between that look on his face, and the fiery ball of our sun descending quietly into the sea... the tast of salty wind on his lips when I kiss him. I want that... a lot. But I'll be myself. I can't help that. I doubt they'd like someone I pretend to be any more than they'd like me.

I love you |2:04 PM

 


Wednesday, December 29, 2004

 

Well, well well, the fateful day has finally come. I am about 14 hours from looking a fear right in the face... He's worth it though... He's so worth it.

Why is the idea of paint dripping off of arching bodies so sensual? I'm painting desire... shhh don't tell...

I feel the thoughts bubbling, the ideas rising... I don't ever come here with something planned out to say. I come because I need to say something, today I just don't know quite what.

I want to be perfect. The problem is, I don't know what perfect is. I don't know what weight I want to be at, what color my hair should be, how my clothes should fit, how I should speak, act, smile, walk, blink, breathe... I couldn't tell you what perfection is but like a blind person dreaming of monet I dream of becoming that, exiting my cocoon and metamorposizing into something wonderful. I wonder at this obvious problem sometimes... how to change myself if I don't know what I'm changing too.

I tend to be uncomfortable with forced change.

Have you ever seen a piece of a bottle that has been washed for what might be years by the ocean? It's beautiful, milky, soft... It's changed as a result of its environment. It adapted, gave away it's brittle edges... Somehow I like that. As much as I respect the process, the idea of taking a thousand cuts at myself scares me away... Makes me doubt sincerity, even.

No, that's not what I'm thinking.

The idea that he's an entirely different person today than he was even a few years ago gnaws at the foundations of my belief of human nature. If being a good person means defying your nature... is that good? Is the natural, in fact, good. Why would be start as something bad?

It leaves so many questions in my mind that I don't want to ask.

You know what I want? I want to dance. I always feel perfect when I dance. I don't feel unattractive, overweight, unintelligent. I.feel.perfect. Everything is so engrained into myself that I can't help but believe that this is what I was meant to do... if I could spend every second of my life dancing, I would be happy.

I love you |10:02 PM

 


Sunday, December 26, 2004

 

Take a deep breath and smile, Casey... one way or another I'll make sure this is all alright.

Really, nothing is wrong at all... I'm just a bit worried. I think I'll occupy the rest of my night writing an essay on the effects of democratization and then another concerning the dehumanization of ignoring problems or worse commodifying them.

Okay, really everything is wrong. Very wrong.

I guess it's a family tradition that we invite our family's closest friends over the day after Christmas to finish off leftovers and help clean up the mess.

Cue Tony's entrance.

I HATE THIS. I have to smile and be nice to this man. I have to tollerate his foolish existence and worse do it whilst offering him a drink. I have been left alone in rooms with him too many times and I'm just falling to pieces.

I need to keep busy. I just can't do it.

I love you |8:41 PM

 


Friday, December 24, 2004

 

Okay... so I'm just going to explain this in a way that I know I can.... punctuation and capitalization optional and most likely not employed.

I feel like crying right now and I don't know why it's like i just can't express how grateful i am for everything and it brings me to tears because what else am i supposed to do with all this emotion it's like every guy in the world can demean me and hurt me and then i find this solace in his arms this place where everything is okay and i'm a person and not an object and not some goal or prize or sex toy and i'm so stunned by this juxtaposition of realities that I don't know what to do I'm like a dear in headlights and all i can do is say i love you and it's not enough and i know it but what should i do then if all i have is language because he's so damn far away i can't kiss him then what do i do to show him what it means to me I want to explain to him that he's my oxygen, my earth, my light, my soul, my words, my art, my movement, my water, my shelter, my smile he's my everything but i know how dumb that sounds so i keep quiet even though it's probably the most true thing i've ever known in a life of all this falsity and counterfeit reality but it just sounds so silly to say that i can't breathe without thinking of you, can't think without breathing you in, that i know you manifest yourself in everything that is within my life and i am so thankful that you protect me from this hell even though i know you feel sometimes like you can't do enough but i'm stunned at how much you do it's so much more than is necessary and i want you to know how thankful i am but i can't explain it without getting you inside my head, letting you see my thought palace and even though there are rooms filled with things i'd rather forget i know he's standing outside of those doors when i enter, waiting to hold me when i cry about everything that's happened and everything that hasn't and just reality in general and i feel so dumb when i cry but i'm so happy that he's there for me and i just want to be able to do something to show him how i feel but i'm clumsy when i kiss him and my hair's always in the way and my hand shakes because i'm so stunned that i'm with him so i can't just touch him and show him how much it means that he wipes the tears out of my eyes and that in my thought palace he's always there to make new beautiful happy rooms and protect me from the bad rooms to remind me of the strength of us and to hold a pillow to my face in my thought palace when my father hits me in real life or to touch me softly when i remember what tony did or to just offer the counterweight to all this bullshit i've had to put up with and he doesn't act afraid and he doesn't act confused he just acts and he knows how to act and there's never a moment when i don't feel safe and taken care of even when he's not really there and it's just the idea of him in my head trying as best i can to simulate what he does in life but all i have to do is what's caring and perfect and right and it's him without a doubt doubt doubt doubt i used to doubt so much about us i used to just dance around the idea that this could be real because it's just so incredible and i want to tell him that to but i don't say it because i know i can't articulate it well enough to make it seem as beautiful as it is the fact that he's taken all my defenses in his hands and showed me how useless they really are, how i don't need them with him how now i can trust him and when he says we'll be together in a year i don't doubt him and when he says we'll be together in a millenia i don't doubt him and all i do is pray that i can be half of what he is to me for him knowing that somehow i never will believe i am and i'll just half to work harder but that's okay because i want to make him happy more than i've ever wanted anything from anyone in my life i want him to always be happy when he's with me even when horrible things happen i want him to find comfort in my arms and words and lips i want him to know that i can be strong when he can't that i can be angry when he's too tactful that i really can take care of him i want him to know all of that because i just don't know how else to explain what my love is to him even though i'm pretty sure he feels about the same thing i do i want him to know that i feel the same way that i can't believe how beautiful how wonderful how perfect how incredible how awesome this all is i want to be able to articulate how when he's around i feel like the whole world inverts and i'm in a different reality because reality just can't be that fucking good the point of reality is that it's real and it's not ideal but everything we have is so ideal but it's so real and that contradiction of terms doesn't create an oxymoron but a paradox and they exist together in some incomprehensible way that is just so beautiful it's like looking into a butterfly's wing and being stunned by the sheer complexity of something so frail, how the complexity should break it but doesn't how the complexity gives its frailty a strength and that's what we have and i want to tell him that too but it's just so silly that i won't put it into words even though i know he won't laugh at me because he never laughs at me because he thinks i'm beautiful no matter what i do and i just can't believe that because i always feel so awkward and silly and amateur except when i'm dancing but he hasn't seen me dance but he still looks at me like i'm the most incredible person he's ever met and when i'm not thinking right i wonder if he's staring at me because something's wrong but then i really look into my eyes and he's just contemplating my nature and i really feel beautiful because he'd look at me like that and i've never seen anyone look at someone like that so intensely but so gently and i'm reminded about being carried in the wolf's jaws and thats how i feel when he looks at me like i could be crushed by the immensity of it and i wonder if he sees that in my eyes to just how badly i want to only ever look upon his face only ever feel his kiss on my lips how i only ever want to feel his touch but i don't say that of course, not any of it, because it's really dumb and it makes no sense but i seldom make sense and somehow he translates what i say into something understandable because i can rant about heteronormativity for god's sake for 20 minutes and when i'm done i feel like he took my rambling and made it mean something to him and maybe learned something and it blows my mind that somehow who's so smart and wise could possibly learn anything from me because i'm so silly and i get scared a lot but he's so confident and when i'm with him i feel his confidence penetrating me and making me stronger making me not afraid to do things like kissing him in that stairwell god in the stairwell i remember when we kissed i felt like the whole world was dripping away and spinning slowly and really revolving around us and it was like there was finally harmony in aristotle's stupid spheres and the chaotic noise stopped and it turned into music and we played eachother's bodies and added to the music we were the melody we were everything we were the solo because the music was for us every moment from creation was leading up to the moment that i finally just leaned forward and kissed his beautiful perfect mouth even though i was so goddamned scared beforehand but as soon as i felt his warmth upon my lips that was just gone it melted into music too and his heartbeat and mine were part of the music and it's a stupid metaphor i know but that's what it was like like the whole mission of the earth was completed and it could have just ended in fire or ice right there because something so fucking perfect had existed in that moment where our lips were touching and god help me it feels the same way every time and i want to explain it to him but somehow i just can't ever find the words, hell i still can't find the words and all of these things i want so badly to tell him tonight just boiled up and i've been crying for over half an hour now about this trying to figure out what was wrong and now i know that that's just the thing nothing is wrong and i don't know how to release this feeling of perfection in the world and i keep remembering that once i said i wanted to love so truly and so much that my heart would burst and coat the earth and there could be no more pain and i was positive that was happening because my heart just aches with all of it my heart aches to be with him and never be parted and it aches to articulate this love and it aches to find his mouth again and feel that perfection forever and just never let him go and i've wanted to say it so badly for so long but i didn't know what to say or how to say it and now i think... i think i may have touched the tip of the iceberg.

I love you |8:31 PM

 


Tuesday, December 21, 2004

 

In a strange way, I long to be more like him.

There is something warm and ancient about his whole existence... I remember thinking once that despite his journal's intangible state, it's a place I would like to curl up in on cold days. It has been possessed by him, it is his home.

I am, I think, a very restless person. I very rarely find something that I love and keep it that way. I tend, more often, to change and change and change again, depending on what mood I'm in. My actions have a cadence and a meaning, but rarely are definably me.

Perhaps that's because there is nothing definably me. I read once a book Immortality... I'd like to find another copy sometime because it left such an impression on me. The entire premise of the book is that those characteristics we assign to ourselves are simlpy extant characteristics arranged differently. Nothing is ever new or original. I take this to heart, and believe it so... I don't think I do anything in the world that is definitely different from how someone else does it. Granted, interactions between two people are necessarily more random. When I touch Andrew, it is likely that I am touching him as lovers have touched lovers for eons. However, he is responding how lovers have responded to touch. But there isn't only one action or reaction. I could choose to trace across his cheek, his hair, his back, his side, his leg... He could respond with a sigh, a kiss, an arch, a smile, a look. This combination creates original things, just as atoms joined with atoms create the water that creates the snowflake.. each of which is different. But the atoms and the water are still homogenous... the resultant snowflake encounters other forces which make it unique.

I love his ways... they are so warm and familiar. They are strong but restrained. When I am with him, I feel as if I am being gently carried in the jaws of a lion. I know, deep down, that he could crush me... but his tenderness is such that I don't doubt it. He's such an old spirit... I always feel so young now.

More than once I have cried into the night, awash with regret and confusion, "I was only 16!"

I am barely 17 today. Save a bit of realization, and becoming harshly enamoured with a gentle predator, nothing of me has changed since them. I have not "come of age." I have not matured in any recognizable fashion. Nothing would change if it happened to me today... But then again, nothing ever changes. There is only so much room for the random.

Nothing does ever change. I can see the repitition now, looking back. I remember flying into Andrew's arm when he had upset me. I remember crawling into his arms on the same bed in which it happened. I remember time and time again deliberately rejecting what he had done to me to be safe with Andrew.

I remember that from day one, I stood for less because of Andrew. I put up with less of his bullshit... I became a lot stronger. I became an end in myself, something more than just a comfort for a sad, sad man. I remember... I remember, and I won't forget what I owe him for it.

I love you |7:15 PM

 


Monday, December 13, 2004

 

In some subtle way, I feel the old patterns changing. Things about myself I used to love, things about myself that he used to love... I'm rearranging them. I believe that in some subconcious way I've been watching as I rendered myself a total hypocrite. I have been standing back and half-recognizing my necessity to be anything but what he wanted.

Why do I love my new hair? Because he loved my old hair and would literally yell at me any time I spoke of changing it. I love my hair because it defies him and expresses my freedom.

Why did I dress in a nice dress and jacket today rather than the miniskirt I picked out? Because he always told me to dress my age. Because he'd lecture me on how debate clothes were unattractive and how I should show off my body while I had it. I dress like a woman because I hate being treated like a child-- like an object.

Why do I love walking around with no makeup on and my hair curly? Because he told me that I had never looked more beautiful than when I went to prom with Brendan. He said that in full makeup with hair done I was so much more beautiful than when I walked around the house. He said he wished I'd dress up for him. I walk around as myself because I know he wouldn't be attracted to me.

Why do I show off my intelligence? Why do I write for pages and pages? Why have I started painting again? Why do I argue my points like they matter? Why do I stand up for myself?

I have become exactly who I was not-- who he would not let me even attempt to be.

I recognize that this is the opposite of what I should be doing. I should not let him change me. I should continue to act as I always have. I used to be so soft spoken, so obsessed with beauty, so in love with showing off my body. Realistically, he encouraged the things I tended to do already... and the rage that his scorn at my unhomogenized actiongs built up inside me has formed me like lava forms the outside of a volcano. It is not independent of that inside of it-- it is dependent. Who I am is very dependent on how I feel about myself, and I judge how I feel about myself by how others make me feel.

I believe that I am happiest as I am now. I love flaunting my logic instead of my body. I love that I finally have the nerve to change how I look, regardless of the results. I love that I indulge my curiousity and my childishness and that if I feel like dressing provocatively I can do it without contradicting the maturity I so value.

I know he hasn't changed me-- not really.

I know this because I bask in the intensity of Andrew's stares when I dress to get his attention. I know this because I trust him enough to sleep with him, literally. I know this because I do not shy away from his touch, his suggestions, his opinions, or his desire to integrate himself into my life.

The Englightenment thinkers believed that you could only learn by personal experience- things you had felt, touched, saw. This may not be entirely true, for I have certainly learned from something I didn't see, feel, or touch. However, I did not apply that learning generally. I did not let him break me like so many men have broken so many women.

My response, my life, is the isotope. I do not have what others have. I am strong enough to move past that which he did to me. I am the sort of person that can handle that without caving in upon myself. I can look at my thigh and know that the word was not my fault, was not my definition, was not anything relevant to who I am.

But more of my life is isotopic than that... I have loved in an unimaginable way. After 16 years of pain and confusion, dissecting myself to discover why I deserved this pain, after unimaginable experiences that should break the ability of any person to love, I have given apart of myself to an incredible person, have given myself entirely to him... and in that emptiness I have recieved back something of his.

I have the power to overcome. I am not certain of much in my life. In fact, I have precisely three certainties.

1. Everything will eventually die.
2. Until everything eventually dies, I will love Andrew.
3. I have the power to overcome anything that may interfere with that.

I am certain. I believe.

I love you |3:38 PM

 


Monday, December 06, 2004

 

These images have washed through my mind
Time and time again
Blurring; Mimicking of reality
Fades to abstracted similes.
Your lips, a paintbrush upon pale skin
Blushes of lusty red swirling into cool white
Painting wet on wet
Want on desire
And diffusing in quiet spiderwebs
Growing with the heat of covetous breath
Rising to meet the source of life
And falling with the biorhythmical patterns
Of deprivation and repletion
Pulsating and throbbing with the internal pounding
Growing, immersing flesh and mind
Short shallow breaths
Dripping pigments mixing together
Fading, painting skin against skin
Grasping, pulling, urging the colors onward
Inducing the masterpiece to culmination
Consuming the canvas in still wet hues
To allow a moment to admire

I love you |5:31 PM

 


Sunday, December 05, 2004

 

I'm afraid that I have a complete lack of understanding about the male species. Well, no, that's not true. I understand the urge to say whatever your pants give you an urge to... I have no empathy for them. It does not bother me to publicly embarass of someone who dares demean me by informing me of their desire to "hook-up" with me. Why should I? I refuse to show respect to someone who shows none to me.

To be perfectly honest, I oftentimes don't even understand what is wrong with these guys. Things calmed down at the Meadows after everyone saw what happened to Brendan... but I don't get why me.

I'm not implying that I'm not attractive-- I just caught site of myself in the mirror and was strangely pleased. I look nice when I don't try... What I'm getting at is that I'm the sort of girl that no one would talk to if it weren't for my confidence and face. We all know her-- mousy flat hair, too skinny (or slightly overweight), quiet, fearsome, very intelligent, teacher's pet. That would have been me. It wouldn't have been much different form myself, really. I was very shy before I got into debate.

What I'm trying to imply is that I'm not one of the vapid, shallow, ignorant, easy girls that are normally preyed upon. I am intelligent and deep when I feel like showing it.

To quote my now discarded DI, "This doesn't happen to smart girls."

If that rule followed, my life would be so different. If it made a difference that doing math gave me a strange satisfaction, or that I argue for entire class periods about what sort of compass john donne was talking about, or that I dissect my history text books for gendered language and biases... If the fact that I really try to understand the world made any difference.. people like my father, tony, and all those boys who chase me like an elusive object... they wouldn't be allowed to go near me. I would be sacred to them.

But it doesn't... Nothing makes any difference here on earth. Objects that are supposedly sacred like the virgin mary cheese sandwich are sold on ebay and shown off in the hard rock cafe for religious zealots to stare at, believing that they've somehow gotten closer to god... My body is not sacred. It is not a temple. My body is the object that complicates my mind. I can't just be intelligent... I can't just be empathetic and understanding, and the sort of person who doesn't mind saving other people a bit of work.

On top of that I have to tollerate idiots who think that trashy pickup lines and overt stares make me desire them, simply because they feel themselves desirable.

Well I don't play by the same rules, apparently. I don't search out these attentions. I don't desire the burning feeling of eyes upon me. I don't want anything that has happened to me. And none of it's my fault.

I have brought only good things upon myself.

I love you |7:24 AM

 


Wednesday, December 01, 2004

 

A Valediction: forbidding mourning - John Donne

AS virtuous men passe mildly away,
And whisper to their soules, to goe,
Whilst some of their sad friends doe say,
The breath goes now, and some say, no:

So let us melt, and make no noise,
No teare-floods, nor sigh-tempests move,
T'were prophanation of our joyes
To tell the layetie our love.

Moving of th'earth brings harmes and feares,
Men reckon what it did and meant,
But trepidation of the spheares
Though greater farre, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers love
(Whose soule is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.

But we by a love, so much refin'd,
That our selves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Care lesse, eyes, lips, and hands to misse.

Our two soules therefore, which are one,
Though I must goe, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to ayery thinnesse beate.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiffe twin compasses are two,
Thy soule the fixt foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if the'other doe.

And though it in the center sit,
Yet when the other far doth rome,
It leanes, and hearkens after it,
And growes erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to mee, who must
Like th'other foot, obliquely runne;
Thy firmnes makes my circle just,
And makes me end, where I begunne.

I think this poem belongs here... firstly because it is a perfect portrait of our love, but secondly because it's an english project and this poem is of such utter complexity that it deserves to be dissected here, so eyes can see it and it won't waste away pressed between the pages of my text book. A poem like this desrves to breathe.

AS virtuous men passe mildly away,
And whisper to their soules, to goe,
Whilst some of their sad friends doe say,
The breath goes now, and some say, no:

This is the beginning of a metaphor/simile.. It begins with as and ends in colon. The beginning states that virtuous men go quietly into the night, whilst the average persons left behind cry after them (make a scene.)

So let us melt, and make no noise,
No teare-floods, nor sigh-tempests move,
T'were prophanation of our joyes
To tell the layetie our love.

The simile ends with the metaphor of the parting in death to be like a parting in love. The first comparison asks the beloved to "melt" away-- a quiet, slow, peaceful transition (one that can be undone.) The water imagery continues in the comparison to floods and tempests.

This next two lines seem out of place. He says it would destroy their joys to tell the average people of their love. This is a similar hierarchical statement (himself vs. the average) as the virtuous man vs. mourners comparison made at the beginning of the poem.

Moving of th'earth brings harmes and feares,
Men reckon what it did and meant,
But trepidation of the spheares
Though greater farre, is innocent.

Here he explains how the focus of the laity is on what's close to them, not the greater more cosmic problems. The moving of the earth implies an earth quake-- something men question without understanding. However, the next repherence to disharmony in the spheres refers to the Platonic arrangement of the universe- that all heavenly bodies rested on crystalline spheres which moved in harmony. The disharmony of one sphere would upset all ther rest. It seems that the separation of the lover and the beloved is caused by some greater problem that must be left to be fixed, in order to restore cosmic harmony. The laity cannot achieve this.

Dull sublunary lovers love
(Whose soule is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.

Sublunary refers to the moon, which draws to mind a reference to Shakespeare- "Swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, lest thy love prove likewise variable." The moon has no constance, so sublunary lovers would be likewise inconstant. Next he says the soul of the love of those lovers is sense, presumably the sense of touch. Which, in absence removes those things that created the love originally. So without touch (and therefore lust) a relationship of those lovers could not be sustained.
Brings to mind a friend of mine...

But we by a love, so much refin'd,
That our selves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Care lesse, eyes, lips, and hands to misse

Unlike the bodily lovers, though, he holds a love more refined; one that according to the second line of the stanza, is greater than the both of them. In addition, because they meet on a mental level, the absence of bodily desires does not destroy them.

Our two soules therefore, which are one,
Though I must goe, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to ayery thinnesse beate

So, because this touch isn't necessary to sustain, their love doesn't break but expands to cover the distance. The analogy used is gold being beaten to airy thinness. Gold, at the time was considered the perfect metal, the most noble. It was the god of the metals, implying that their love was the best of the loves.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiffe twin compasses are two,
Thy soule the fixt foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if the'other doe.

If they (the souls) are two (one in the same) they stay as such. The reference to compasses is not one to directional, but to the ones that make circles. This analogy is much more complex then it seems. A compass is realistically, two different objects joined together in one place to make them more useful in every sense. The piece of the compass which holds it to the paper (stays in the same space, like the beloved) and rotates slowly in whichever direction the pencilled portion should stray. At all times they stay together.

And though it in the center sit,
Yet when the other far doth rome,
It leanes, and hearkens after it,
And growes erect, as that comes home.

Imagine a compass being stretched to make the largest circle possible. the pencilled side leans out, and the pointed side leans after it. This union of followed and following is not unrequitted; it is presumed that due to the unseparable attachment they will always meet again. Once that compass is pushed back together, as to make a very tight circle, it gets to be straight; erect. The word choice of erect has an obviously sexual connotation; it implies that the mentallity and spirituallity of their love is not exclusive from the sexuallity. They exist together, but do not fret when only the mentallity is possible.

Such wilt thou be to mee, who must
Like th'other foot, obliquely runne;
Thy firmnes makes my circle just,
And makes me end, where I begunne.

I think the most worth of this stanza comes from "thy firmness makes my circle just." This is a repetitive tie in to the circle the compass draws, and to the harmony of the spheres. I submit that he is implying that their love is a sort of natural harmony; a disruption of it would disrupt all of nature. In addition, the circle is considered the perfect shape, the symbol of eternity, and the shape of a wedding band.

No matter what the distance... touch is not needed to survive. Our love is something greater than the both of us, something that holds the world together in some ways... and when you must leave, we never tarnish our love by making the leave shamefully.

I love you |5:47 PM

 


Monday, November 29, 2004

 

I think perhaps I need a change of perspective. Seeing things from my point of view is growing burdensome... it all boils itself down to some flawed dichotomy and silly stereotypes.

I want to be inside your skin; I want to see myself from different eyes. I want to see what you see when you look at me. It all seems so mysterious... To get inside your mind, and see what you believe would be so fulfilling, somehow. The ultimate of subjective realities is contained inside the few cubic inches within your head... My reality is feeling rather.. surreal.

Perhaps it's my recent bipolar tendencies, the constant challenges to how I view myself, or the debate style refrain from anything being concrete... Most likely some combination thereof... But regardless... what is in my mind seems questionable; the tabloid to the respected journal.

I can't even make sense of myself anymore... I don't really get my motivations. I find myself making excuses, logically pacifying... I take actions I know make no sense, and after they are completed try to make sense of them.
--------------------------------------
I saw tony on my way to school this morning. I pass in front of the rainbow entrance to del rey every morning... and this morning I was cut off by tony in the process. I was stunned. I couldn't speak or move or breathe. The fact that I was driving seemed incredible to me-- all I remember was being stunned by the ease in which he lives his life. I wish we were all so fucking lucky.

I wish that I could do simple things like drive from place to place without having some fragment of my past attack me and leave me helpless for a few moments until i can regain control over myself. I wish that my conscience were as clear as his.

How can he live with himself?

Maybe it's because I'm female. Maybe it's because my mom was raped. Maybe it's because I'm not impulsive. Maybe it's because I'm fucking human but I have enough sympathy for the plight of any given person that I don't do well watching a pigeon with a broken leg hobble around much less taking positive action to permanently harm someone and then passing it off as their fault. Maybe... maybe... no. no..

See what I mean?... Disproportionate reactions. He was driving to school. People do that. That is no reason for me to freak out over his supposedly clear conscience. Is there? I don't know anymore. I've never watched someone have this happen to them. I don't know how I'm supposed to respond.

I let myself cry for the first few days. I don't know if I'm supposed to do that now. When I feel like crying... should I? When I don't feel like crying... should I?

I know that there is a correct and incorrect way to feel... I just don't know what that is.

I need a different perspective...

I love you |8:47 PM

 


Sunday, November 28, 2004

 

me to my dad: "::type type type:: ::sigh:: Is there anything about jews that is interesting?
my dad:"They were the chosen people. Jesus was a Jew."
me: "He was also a carpenter. Carpenters are also the chosen people. And men with long hair. They also could be chosen."

Much relief in the past day or so. And not just from my own bipolar tendencies.

It's quite nice to know that Andrew's parents know.. And, well, to put it simply, that they haven't become militant towards me as of yet. I'll still be scared out of my mind to meet them, don't get me wrong. But somehow their teasing and whatnot implies that they feel okay with this. Humor seems to be a central part of Andrew's family, not so much as a defense mechanism but as a form of acceptance. The humor stops when something's wrong.

So humor me, Andrew... :-) bad pun.

That event has relaxed me quite a bit...

hmmm... paper is finished... that leaves a bit of physics to do in the morning...

I love Andrew. No, seriously... he's terrific. Even though he gets annoyed at my often mock-self conciousness.

I'm not so bad... it's just hard to be good with someone like you to compare to.

It's cold. I'm going to bed and calling my andrew because god knows he's been working for too long.

I love you |6:12 PM

 



 

Worried... very, very worried.

One of my worst habits is my tendency to freak out over everything. I get these intuitive moments that tells me something's wrong and I just can't let them go.

Allow me to paint a picture. It's about 11, andrew goes off to get food, I take a shower, play on the computer, finish my book, and finally give up and figure he'll wake me up later that night. Instead, I wake up somewhere around 4 am from a dream where Andrew has been hurt-- in fact, it concluded with me finally meeting his parents as the girlfriend... except it was without him. I then realize that andrew had not in fact called me back... so I figure I'll call him and tell him to go back to sleep. But his phone is off.

Cue heart in throat. "Why," I ask myself, "Would he turn his phone off, knowing he was supposed to call me back?" I lay for a while, staring at the ceiling, wishing I knew what had happened, why he wasn't answering his phone, if he was okay. So I try calling his dorm line. For once it works... but there is no answer (once again.)

It's times like these when I get really pissed off that adam's out of town so he's useless for this.

It's times like these I didn't worry so much. Logically, nothing's wrong, I'm sure... but realistically.... how would i ever find out? eventually, I'd see adam online and that would be how the news was broken. "oh, by the way..."

I'm not being logical. And I'm really worried. Because I'm dumb. At least... I really hope I'm dumb.

I love you |7:53 AM

 


Saturday, November 27, 2004

 

Yesterday was amazing. I don't remember the last time I've been so happy (but there's a good chance it was at St. Marks.)

It's incredible how such little things go so far. Holding hands in the park. Cuddling. Kisses... Falling asleep in his arms, waking up thinking I had another cruel dream where I believe he's there and he's not... Only to find that it was really him. The Boy I spent so much time dreaming about was wrapped around me, still asleep.

This was very comforting to me... just the entire event in general... He touched me as if I was still his, he held me as if I had only ever been his, and he kissed me as if it were impossible for me to be anyone else's. I feel innocent and pure when he holds me. I feel... like me. If it wasn't me that reclaimed my skin, it was him. I love it that it doesn't phase him, it doesn't change anything, that I could keep my mind off of it for most all of the day.

This could be heaven right here on earth.

I love you |8:50 AM

 


Thursday, November 25, 2004

 

hmm... disregard the last 3 posts.

I have the best boyfriend ever. He makes me really happy. End simple sentences here.

There's something comforting about him being in the city, not that his absence closer to me should differ any from his absence further from me. But.. it seems to. Oddly enough, i sleep better when he's sleeping nye 30 miles from me. It reminds me of our earlier nights together.

My history teacher doesn't think that "whilst" is a word. I tried explaining to him that "while" wasn't generally appropriate when "whilst" was. Something about the opposing connotation, I think.

I definitely slept from 3:00 pm til 7:30 am (with a few short andrew breaks inbetween.)

Chores, then, I suppose.

I love you |7:39 AM

 


Tuesday, November 23, 2004

 

Trust is something I need to learn... Belief is most definitely something in which I'm lacking.

I have too many friends with too many presumptions about something they really know nothing about. It's situational.

I know it's situational. And I know what I would do were I in that situation. But that's the point of subjectivity! It's situational and subjective and his right to make the choice... and I'm putting too much weight on what his choice implies, what the lack of previous action means, what the implication of rash action is now. I think too much.

I have too much time to think. That sentence really works in two ways. I have an excess of time to think, and then there's the other interpretation. I have a lot of time and therefore shouldn't think...

too much time. too dissective of a mindset... too many nosy friends.

bleh. i need to trust.

"He said it feels good
I said I'll give it a try"

I love you |8:36 PM

 



 

well. i suppose that was all the answer i needed.

"If you find it utterly imperative to the outcome of your life and your happiness that you must have all the attention averted towards you, become a stripper.
Don't come to me. . ."

the histrionic is projecting, i suppose.

I love you |2:46 PM

 



 

Have you read Midsummer's? If not... you should. Not because it's a good play; I hate it. I'm simply identifying... perhaps I should explain further; I've never been a fan of the painfully vague allusion.

She is Hermia- everyone loves her in spite of her hot temper and stubborn will. I am Helena, rejected and insecure. Suddenly with a strange change of fate... everyone loves me... and I am utterly convinced it's all a joke.

It's supposed to go that their eyes are drenched with a flower's juice... that this is what makes them love me... But I feel more as if I am the object of disillusionment. I am the one that believes the false.

I have so many eyes on me and they only succeed in bringing me to my weakest points.

I'm just waiting for the punch line.

Perhaps it was done.. but I begged the question;

itsalljustlovely: This is Casey. I know I'm probably just making more problems by doing this, but could you please tell me why you hate me so much?
itsalljustlovely: I'm sure you'll just ignore that I brought this up, and you have every right to. But I can't stand back and be attacked any longer. Hopefully we can have something resembling a rational conversation concerning this rather than this silent tension.

No answer as of yet, and I'm not expecting one. I'll probably never know the punchline to the joke. It will just go on in that uncomfortable moment between random statement and "hilarious" ending.

I've said it before and I'll say it again- it's better to part laughing than crying... but then why do I spend my time worrying? Likely because I feel it will end with them laughing and me crying. Better for them worse for me.

As would be the general, I allow myself to be sacrificed for the all-important utility that I place so little value in and despise so greatly that I've written 20 point blocks upon it.

I don't articulate myself well sometimes... then again, no one owes me anything. nevermind.


I love you |2:19 PM

 


Thursday, November 18, 2004

 

*sigh* rushing about, preparing for the greatest of all mindless processions; the debate tournament.

My clothes are packed, my homework something resembling completed, my cases rewritten and astutely timed. Everything is done... It should be calming to me, however this is not the case.

My world feels supremely upside down; perhaps it's my steadily escalating fever, perhaps its the events i've had to deal with recently, perhaps its the absence (or at least long term deprivation from) those things that generally keep my life so grounded.

I am not excited for this weekend; I do not hope to win.

Disturbing fact discovered this morning; 20% of all those diagnosed with bipolar disorder will take their own life. That's one in every 5... a hearty percent of a culture into which i have not literally adapted, but whose common themes i know; listlessness, unproportional responses to events, unidentifiable but still extant fears...

This part of my life I know, and have come to accept and learned to control. This is my reality, slightly altered for acceptability. I do not desire medication, I know the pains of that. However, I am not so foolish as to simply surrender to my imbalances... Maybe I have it easy, but I can fight. Places like this one exist for me to express my imbalance of emotions. The rest of the time, I can logically comprehend that when I spill a glass of milk it shouldn't leave me bedridden(no matter how to pieces I feel) and when someone I know falls seriously ill I should be sad... no matter how neutral I may feel.

What truly hurts doesn't phase me, sometimes... but I'm spectacular at acting like it does. Like painting, I see an object and although I cannot create it, I can imitate it.

However... like an unexpected chemical reaction, something so simple as forgetting my equation sheet for physics, or not hearing the work for spanish puts me through a lot of pain. But I know the routine for how to handle pain.

Take a deep breath, push away reality, and move on in the world you prefer... If experiences with my father have taught me anything, perhaps the best thing I will take from it will be an understanding of how to deal with my own disorder.

It's simple really. Create lots of lists of regimens, things that must be done in this order, else I have failed. I never let myself down. Always have human contact. Do homework in front of the computer, spend the rest of my time on the phone... and don't sleep. Sleep will undo everything I spend the day creating; a few moments to think upset the entire illogical (but incredibly effective) process... and we wouldn't want that.

Perhaps I might feel uncomfortable with what i was doing were I suppressing a true emotion... but that's precisely what I'm not doing. I am not refraining from coping with any of my problems... I am learning how to cope normally. Perhaps one day, the feelings I paint upon my face will be real. Perhaps synapses can be realigned, seratonin taught its proper course.

But I don't mean to draw attention to this problem; that's precisely what I strive not to do. Just a strange quotation on the radio, and a distinctive decision not to be a part of that rather large minority who cannot handle their disability.

This is me. This is me in love.

I love you |6:44 PM

 


Monday, November 15, 2004

 

A shady friend for torrid days
by Emily Dickinson

A shady friend for torrid days
Is easier to find
Than one of higher temperature
For frigid hour of mind.
The vane a little to the east
Scares muslin souls away;
If broadcloth breasts are firmer
Than those of organdy,
Who is to blame? The weaver?
Ah! the bewildering thread!
The tapestries of paradise!
So notelessly are made!

A Cry
by Sarah Teasdale

Oh, there are eyes that he can see,
And hands to make his hands rejoice,
But to my lover I must be
Only a voice.
Oh, there are breasts to bear his head,
And lips whereon his lips can lie,
But I must be till I am dead
Only a cry.

it'll be a long day, but it was a longer night. i survived and i don't really have anything to say about it. i feel a bit stronger having done it myself.

off to be pannopticized.

I love you |7:29 AM

 


Sunday, November 14, 2004

 

Hmm... found the poem, lost my DBQ. Where on earth would I put that thing? No worries... I'm afraid I cannot worry today; everything is right.

I'm not sure how to articulate the way I feel. at peace... calm... sure. The questions that so often haunt my mind have retired gladly without answer, but instead with a bit of satisfaction in hand. Perhaps there is no answer.. perhaps the equation has too many variables. Perhaps nothing matters... well, almost nothing.

I have had a wonderful night. No nightmares. Just tranquil sleep and passionate words and deep felt laughs.

SOUND OF SILENCE
By Raymond J. Baughan

Here in the space between us and the world
lies human meaning.
Into the vast uncertainty we call.
The echoes make our music,
sharp equations which can hold the stars,
and marvelous mythologies we trust.
This may be all we need
to lift our love against indifference and pain.
Here in the space between us and each other
lies all the future
of the fragment of the universe

I love you |10:37 AM

 


Saturday, November 13, 2004

 

How do you do it-
Make me feel the way you do?
How do you do it?
It's better than I ever knew...

I woke up in an honest to god good mood today. i did some homework.. made pancakes and hashbrowns... listened to some music, fed my fish, and read a little.

I love my boyfriend. A lot... he puts up with a lot of hard stuff because of me... and I promise that I'll always make it up to him. I don't know if he realizes how much better he always makes me feel, how much he takes my mind off of things, or how cute he is when he's sleeping.

I wanna be with you
There's nothing left to say

growl :-)

I love you |9:45 AM

 


Friday, November 12, 2004

 

i suck at explaining things but i'm upset and scared and convinced i broke something perfect.

i'm lonely... and i have a ceiling that needs stared at.

I love you |11:40 AM

 


Thursday, November 11, 2004

 

i used to talk about how much i loved him. how good he was to me. how i cared for him. how well he took care of me. how much he understood me.

i went out of my way to please him... did anything in my power for his acceptance.

i.am.so.stupid.

it's hard for me to concentrate on what's really going on... i get distracted and non-responsive... which, of course, makes him think of all the useful things he could be doing so he leaves. which he's allowed to do.. it just seems strange. it's the time i least want to be alone but am most prone to being alone.

fish don't get killed by x-rays, and are allowed on planes when in bags. i'm gonna get a puffer-fish, and he'll keep me company at glenbrooks. or she. no gendered language.

mmm fishyfishyfishy.

I love you |5:12 PM

 



 

not very much sleep tonight... woke up in the middle of it from a nightmare.. it was about 3 am i think... couldn't fall back asleep after that.

if anything, since i said something about it, the nightmares have become more horrible and violent and explicit... i watched him put that word on my leg.

feeling detached and numb. i'm watching what's happening and very rarely controlling it. when i am, i cry. i hate crying. crying makes me feel so weak and useless and subhuman.

i hate being weak in front of him. that's stupid. i know it's stupid... but somehow... i just want him to see the good parts of me.. that's the part of me that's easy to love and i want him to be able to love me without question or fear. i want him to love me without having to work for it.

i want him to be there for a time in my life when nothing's wrong. i don't know if they exist. maybe it's just me and i am bad luck and no matter how hard he tries to make happiness between the two of us, i'll break it.

something is wrong with me. something deep and inherent inmy nature.. something i can't control. something about me is magnetic but only attracts the negative.

i'm going to go lay in bed.

I love you |8:01 AM

 


Wednesday, November 10, 2004

 

i tell myself i'll be alright but i'm not sure i believe it. there are very few things i believe anymore.

i feel broken and dirty and used. i don't want to be in my skin anymore. i need to be purified.

i almost wished something bad on him. but i can't do that. action sparks reaction and it's only the reaction i can control. i will control myself. i will control how i act and how i'm percieved, what i do, what i say, what i know, and what i believe. i've learned a valuable lesson about trust and control.

if you don't have a reason to trust someone... don't put yourself in a situation to be out of control.

"got no reason
for running to me with the rain running down
there's no reason
And the same voice
coming to me like it's all slowing down
and believe me
I was the one who let you know
I was your sorry ever after
'74-'75"

when i look on in your eyes than i'll do better.

just being me makes me feel sick. having to live in this skin. having time to imagine what it must have been like. i do not like being helpless.

i won't be held responsible. i won't. i'm stupid. i'm naive. but i'm not responsible.

I love you |6:19 PM

 



 

i can hardly even sit at this journal without tears coming to my eyes.

I didn't have any nightmares last night... and I feel as if a weight of ten thousand pounds has been lifted off of my minds... and i swear that when i woke up today my skin smelled like him.

It's all silliness... it really is. all of my life. all of the worries and fears. the pressure. it's stupid.

i'm not sure i know what else to say.

i know now that it's all going to be alright. i know i can trust him and i know i'm safe now. it's all going to be alright.

we made two verbal promises each to eachother last night... two verbal and one silently consentual... and none of those promises will be broken.

I am but an image i paint of myself, and what I include in that painting is entirely my choice. I choose. I control it. It's all my decision.

I love you |5:47 AM

 


Tuesday, November 09, 2004

 

Changed my screenname from "itsalljustlovely" to "ITSALLJUSTLOVELY" as if to say "Its all just FUCKING lovely OKAY?!"

I suppose I'm getting tired of the relentless questioning... I do not like to be dissected against my will and I do not like to lie. These two things do not equivocate well. There is no "happy medium."

We fell through the ice when we tried not to slip...

How true is that of my life? Any attempt at moderation and carefulness leads me head first into icy water. I feel like I'm in icy water and I can't find anywhere to breathe. My legs have forgotten how to move, my hands have abandoned me... however... my mind is painfully active. I am painfully aware of how helpless I am in this situation.

My father told me once I could be anything I wanted when I grew up... I've decided what I want to be. I want to be okay. I want to meet a day where my mind doesn't wander into the deep abyss of my childhood. I want to stop having to explain away bruises and tears. I want it all to have been different, but I know better than such wishes. I know what any change would have lead to... but I don't know what future change will accomplish either.

I won't be held responsible.

I hate this looming responsibility concerned with change and the way I feel. I hate how I feel when out of my mouth slips a reference to a scar or a bruise or a run-in with my father. I hate making him worry about me and there is nothing I can do. I do not know how to make this go away. I know there has to have been a time when I was okay, when I was normal and I just don't know how to find that place anymore. I don't know how to make him stop worrying and I don't know why I feel the need to even discuss it when it just makes things that much harder for him.

I do not know; who I am, who I am supposed to be, how to be who I want to be, what the words inside my head mean, how to make this go away, how to be okay, how to let go, how to forgive, how to leave, how to forget, how to move on, when it's okay to talk about it, what to say, when it's okay to lie, how to explain it, how to cover it, how to change it, how to tell dreams from reality, how to know if that was real, how to know if it really happened, how to know what i should say about it, how to make it stop haunting my nightmares, how to tell anyone.

I do not know how to dance anymore. My feet are clay, my body porcelain. Be gentle with me; I break. I am more brittle now than I was when I was skin and bones with only silence binding my sinews together. Now instead of silence I have hate congealing around my muscles and preventing any motion or emotion. All of this with a thick haze of confusion making it all the harder to know what has actually happened. Is it as bad as I think it is?

There is the evil you know, and the one you don't. I was thoroughly convinced that my passion for feminism and my nightmares in general were vicarious. I'm remembering things that I don't think are real. I'm reading words I wrote on my flesh that I can logically comprehend, but don't understand why they're on me.

You can't get legal protection based on speculation, but I can't get solace from a lack of knowledge.

I love you |4:50 PM

 


Thursday, November 04, 2004

 

"For the life of me,
I cannot believe
We'd ever die for these sins
We were merely freshman"

Feeling like falling to pieces and I don't know why. Well.. okay. I do know why. But I don't want to go into that. That's the great thing about this whole freedom to express emotions, when you really do need to say it you just can't.

"You don't need me bad
You're just the best I ever had."

I don't know. I'm about to leave for a long trip. I ought to put on a happy face and suck it up... I don't know. ugh. kill me.

No, I don't know what I want. No, I don't know what I'm doing. And no, I really don't know what the fuck I'm talking about anymore.

At least I get a weekend of feeling nothing... that's always useful.

I love you |6:45 AM

 


Wednesday, October 27, 2004

 

I really think this needs described here... for the sheer hilarity of the situation it needs to be made at least semi-concrete for reference purposes.

So andrew was talking to his parents today and accidentally allowed his ring to be shown on the webcam.

Parents: So what, you're wearing a wedding ring now?
Andrew: Not quite....
Parents: So whose the girl? (haha)
Andrew: This beautiful redhead
Parents: You wish!
Andrew: She's beautiful and intelligent and is going to make hundreds of thousands of dollars every year.
Parents: You must be dreaming.

...oh.my.god.. that is so funny.

I'm not sure whether I'm actually worried about gaining the acceptance of Andrew's parents. I suppose it depends on what perspective I look at the situation from. If I look at it as the perspective of the girl in love with Andrew, I realize that he could very nearly (but not quite) care less what his parents say about me... If I look at the situation as the girl who wants to be accepted into Andrew's life (which must, inherently, include familial life) I am terrified at the notion that they may or may not see in me what he does. Perhaps their overprotection will translate into hating me in spite of who I am.. I will always be myself for them, and will always honestly display my love for Andrew, unless he requests otherwise. I will, of course, be well behaved. No sexual jokes or inappropriate language. Laugh at things I may or may not find funny, and don't argue with too many opinions too violently. He's already told me the tricks. Clearly display my unabashed care for andrew, display a basic knowledge in the things that interest them, and overall just be polite and personable. I know all of this.. and I trust in myself, and yet somehow these doubts remain. I get the impression that they may always remain. Even with a blessing to our relationship, I doubt I could help but feel that my first impressions will never be changed. I will always be ditzy. Of course, that doesn't matter to the person who really matters; none of this silliness does. I matter to the person who really matters... Our happiness matters. Perhaps I'm an overachiever? Perhaps.

If I could give an exclusive noun to the relationship between andrew and I, it would be capitalized and more specific than the general definition of love. The general definition of love is not absolute, timeless, and perfect. Our love is all of those things and more.


I love you |10:58 PM

 



 

"She's gonna love you, she's gonna leave you with a smile"

I enjoy the fact that we never have sad goodbyes... I love that I can be smiling and laughing as we walk away for a sometimes indefinite period of time... That peace and knowing.. the realization that no matter how long we part, we'll meet again with equal happiness and never have to fear the loss of the other.

I love that I never have to spend a second of our being together unhappy... That I don't loathe our time together because of the consequential loathing of our being apart. I love that when I say goodbye to him I'm smiling and anticipating the next time he's again next to me and I can bond myself to his body and not let go until we part with another knowing smile.

I love that we love eachother- that we truly love eachother. That there is no fear or lack of trust in our relationship. That I have not an ounce of doubt in my mind about who I will be loving for the rest of my life.

Adam, today, posed the question, would it all be worth it? If tomorrow andrew were to smash my heart into a thousand pieces and tell me he never loved me... would it all be worth it? Of course it would. I would never change a moment because of hindsight. At the time that any event in our relationship occurred it felt perfect. Kissing in the rain, getting caught holding hands, having someone to help me fall asleep and listen to me cry. Everything that has happened in the last few months is just so beautiful and so perfect that i couldn't change a second if it were all doctored. No... i couldn't change a thing. i'd be taking way the best parts of my life.

"nothing's gonna stop me now."

I love you |1:25 PM

 


Tuesday, October 26, 2004

 

I've waited too long to write this here... so it's time to say it now.

a quote from a more concrete journal

And I am the luckiest.

Forgive me- I feel no necessity to keep a thought intil it is "throuhg." Firstly because thoughts are rarely ever through and secondly because the only two people who will likely ever read this already know what I'm thinking.

I could have dided today, and yes it's true that I could have died any day... but today I was brought eye to eye with the death I've had nightmares of for all of my life that matters, and even before that.

We went sliding to a screeching halt on a rain-slicked night hidden freeway and all I could do was scream and begin to bawl. I wasn't so afraid as I was positive that this was it.. not for life.. but for Andrew and I. All I could think of was that my last words to him were foreshadowing my death and screamed into a telephone in a too-loud car. I was going careening to my death and I did not fear death so much as leaving him alone.... and being alone.

So you sailed away into a gray sky morning

I don't know. there's more from the entry in my written journal... but I don't think it needs to be put here.


I love you |7:09 AM

 


Sunday, October 24, 2004

 

I have a silver promise wrapped around my finger... and a lingering kiss on my mouth... and echoes of fingertips across my skin.

Yesterday was amazing.

True, true... I got less than six hours with him. True, true... I have to wait a month before I see him again. But that's not what's important. I saw him, and the world was okay again. everything was beautiful.

Adam was quite a character and much too thin. I submit that his hair loss may be due to too much exercise and not enough calories. But... it's his life and I can't do much to change his actions.

Yesterday could have been very traumatic. I could have gone to bed very upset... but instead I fell asleep positive that he was behind me with his arms wrapped very close against my body. I was so positive that it was real...

November 26.

I love you |6:13 AM

 


Tuesday, October 19, 2004

 

It's been a while since I've written my thoughts here... likely due to the time that there hasn't been much time for thinking.

On the one hand, this means I have less time to miss him... on the other hand this means I have less time to talk to him.

On the other other hand, both of those things are bad, as even though it is bitter-sweet to miss him, it's still partly sweet.

It makes me feel almost more secure with myself to know that he missed me after not talking to me for so long... this seems almost heartless, and i never want him to be anything but happy, but i find it so hard to believe that he could desire me... it's hard for me not to take comment's like jill's to heart; not so much that he loves her, but that i he tolerates me. Off course I know better than this, and of course i know he loves me... "but still," i think, "you've done it in the past with purely moral intentions, and he is a portrait of maturity. What are you?" at this point i allow my heart and logic to regain control from my insecurities and remember that i am, in fact, the girl he loves.

It still stuns me, this idea that i get to see his face on saturday. It sounds odd, but I feel like I've been with him all this time, as if he's never left my side and our skin has never stopped touching.. and yet my body yearns for him as if I'd never touched him before, my memories resembling fantasies my body telling mistruths. He is so close and yet so far. However, I can feel his chest beating within my heart... I can hear his whisper in my ears... and when i slip almost into sleep, i feel his body laying next to mine.

Perhaps it is this sort of delusion that has kept me safe for the last few months, and perhaps when we think of eachother, our bodies cease to exist seperately. Perhaps this simultaneous yearning bridges the physical distance between because our emotions break the barriers of time and space. Perhaps we've figured it out after all...

I'm not sure... but on saturday, regardless, my fantasies become realities. My passing fancies become tangible... and my dreams i've had so faithfully each night come true in the smile of his face and the warmth of his hands and the taste of his lips... these are the things my mind can't quite replicate... and that which is replicated is but a fraction of a glimmer in comparison to reality.

:-) Our love is off the richter scale.

I love you |8:14 PM

 


Saturday, October 16, 2004

 

I just dreamt of the most wonderful thing and then realized it was real.

I was talking to andrew, and he said something which i called him silly for, and he apologized for his silliness. So I said "I still love you-" in a breathless tone, cutting myself off short... convinced i had said something I shouldn't have. there was a moment of silence, my adrenaline rushing and myself prepared to apologize... when he whispered back to me in the same breathless tone "i love you."

mmm i'm happy...

I love you |8:52 AM

 


Friday, October 15, 2004

 

everything is happening so quickly and so harshly- what should i do?

i am attacked constantly at my school, my father's incidents are becoming more and more frequent...

I sometimes can't believe there was a time in which it was at most once a month. There is some sort of instance just about every day now.

Perhaps it was my paper on the wife of bath, but i feel guilty spouting off all of this theory on human rights and feminism and even occasionally objectivism when in fact I sacrifice my human rights in the name of other people's. I gave my childhood to save my little sisters, and have done it well enough that she feels no guilt. I do not want to martyr myself, I do not want her to ever thank me... I want to look at her well being and feel justified in what I've done.

But how can you justify this? How many girls have I told to call the police because their boyfriend beats them? How many have I called foolish for wanting to preserve a relationship at the cost of their body?

I don't know if I'd be justified in saying this... but I can't help but feel that although it makes me a hypocrite I am in a different scenario than them and what i do is justified because of how many people benefit for my loss.

I sometimes play with the idea of leaving, but I know that i won't do that until it's the leave my father expects. I'll be here until college because if I don't stay too many people are hurt.

i feel stupid when i wonder why everyone is out to get me in las vegas. i wonder why i work so hard to protect the people that attack me...

how is it possible that i defend so many people and yet have no allies?

ack. forget it. i'm staying home today.

I love you |6:30 AM

 


Sunday, October 10, 2004

 

Sleepless
by Sarah Teasdale

If I could have your arms tonight-
But half the world and the broken sea
Lie between you and me.
The autumn rain reverberates in the courtyard,
Beating all night against the barren stone,
The sound of useless rain in the desolate courtyard
Makes me more alone.
If you were here, if you were only here-
My blood cries out to you all night in vain
As sleepless as the rain.

hmmm.. dangerous things happen when i go to poetry archives and hit the "random poem" button.

It seems that when I am feeling something and lacking words to say it, the words of someone else find me.

It rained here, and i listened to it pour outside of my window for ages with the windows open and the blankets wrapped tight around my body.

the smell of the rain, the rhythm of the drops upon the ground, the warmth of my blankets... it only made me long more for him. somehow, though, somehow... knowing that the rain was falling outside of his window, and outside of mine, and that the drops that fell upon my face were of the same family of those that fell on his... somehow that brings to me a sense of completeness; a definite bond.there is a circle of nature which must include him and me... that which is finite and extant... that which i know and can touch... the tangible, the palpable... all of that exists with us in mind.

and we exist with the infinite, the intangible, the ideallic in mind... and our existance will strive to make that the finite, the tangible, the real...

there is no doubt in my mind what i feel, no fear in the actions i take, no regret for the actions i've taken.

:deep breath: and a return to my reality...

I love you |9:58 PM

 


Friday, October 08, 2004

 

Sometimes i just need to remind myself that i'm alive.

I love him... I can't think of a moment within the last 4 months that i've been with him and anything less than happy. I can only strive to make him as happy as he makes me.

It's odd. I can't even put the way I feel into words. I'm not used to this lack of explanation, of words to manipulate into a mimickry of what i feel.

last night i thought of a poem i wrote too long ago about someone i don't want to write about anymore.

Your skin
Tells stories
Of pennance
And pain
Of anger
And repent
I read it
With my fingertips
My lips
Leave my stories
There as well
More stories
Of happiness
To cover up
Your pain

I don't know what made me remember writing that... strange little memory triggers... Strange little me.

I woke up feeling down on myself... it's hard sometimes to remember that i'm not the person they say i am. but i have lots of things to remind me. a t-shirt that makes me feel safe, a ring that tells me someone amazing loves me, a book that shows me how real it all is. And i have a kitten. it's a good kitten.

listening to sad music. i've always loved sad music. "she fell in love in the first place"

Who did fall in love in the first place? Was it from the first kiss, the first word, the first sight of him that i became so utterly positive that he was my end to the means? Was it the first time he ran his finger across my cheek? the first time he wrapped me safe in his words and let me spill my heart to him.

hmmm "we fell through the ice when we tried not to slip."

I distinctly remember promising I wouldn't get attached. That can be my one broken promise...

I love you |7:01 AM

 


Wednesday, October 06, 2004

 

*bang* i hate boys *bang* i hate brendan *bang* i hate zack *bang* i hate tony *bang*

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
ok. now then.

Placebo- "Every You, Every Me"

Sucker love is heaven sent.
You pucker up, our passion's spent.
My hearts a tart, your body's rent.
My body's broken, yours is bent.
Carve your name into my arm.
Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed.
Cuz there's nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.
Sucker love, a box I choose.
No other box I choose to use.
Another love I would abuse,
No circumstances could excuse.
In the shape of things to come.
Too much poison come undone.
Cuz there's nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,
Every Me...he
Sucker love is known to swing.
Prone to cling and waste these things.
Pucker up for heavens sake.
There's never been so much at stake.
I serve my head up on a plate.
It's only comfort, calling late.
Cuz there's nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,
Every Me...heE
very me and every you,
Every Me...he
Like the naked leads the blind.
I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind.
Sucker love I always find,
Someone to bruise and leaves behind.
All alone in space and time.
There's nothing here but what here's mine.
Something borrowed, something blue.
Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,
Every Me...he
Every me and every you,
Every Me...he [x4]

uuuuuggghhh this could not have been a worse day concerning boys. okay. a worse day is possible but i pray that i will never see it.

Email from tony telling me what a horrid person i am- 6am.
Brendan in first period trying to pass notes to me- 8am
Brendan writing on the announcement board that i was a slut- 10am
Zack calling me a slut in front of 4n6- 12 pm
Mr Miller telling me i have "nice balloons"- 2pm
My father being an ass- 4pm

maldjf;alkjd;klahgldkjas;lkfj;alskdjfa;sdfjlkasd;flkag;sho

why am i always the bad person? no, really... why is it always me that fucks everything up? i am a nice girl. i really am. i really try not to hurt people and i am feeling so incredibly guilty right now it's unimaginable. i fuck everything up.

i don't dress provocatively. i don't lead people on. i don't spread rumors... i'm not anything more or less than honest.

why, then.. why? why am i forced to put up with being called a "manipulative little bitch" by tony? why is it okay that he spent 6 months convincing me that i couldn't live without him but I am the bad person for escaping his grasp? Why is it he calls me a tease when I remember him trying to hold me down to the bed?! Why am I so easy to hurt?

Why is it so easy to hold me down to the bed, against the wall? Why is it so easy to try to force yourself on me than blame me for not making it easy.

I have wasted too much of my voice screaming to try to keep myself safe.

Whatever movie they watched in forensics had 2 rape scenes in it. I almost threw up.

going somewhere where i'm safe?


I love you |4:04 PM

 


Tuesday, October 05, 2004

 

hahahahaha that was so funny.

so i'm sitting at this webpage, halfway scrolled down. and i see something black creep across the page, and i look for it and it's all the sudden gone.. and a few seconds later it happens again.. and again... and then i finally catch one of those little bastards (thinking it's a creepy little bug) and it's just the little flowers i programmed onto my page. hahahaha

there are a pair of arms i should be curled up in right now.

mommy says maybe after she meets andrew she will send me out there. i know she'll love him; how could she not? He's spectacular. He's everything a mother could ever want for a daughter... brilliant, sweet, caring, adorable, respectful, educated.... he's perfect. absolutely perfect. i could never want anything more, and i could never get it anyway. There is nothing better possible.

So i'm 16 (2 months from 17). shortly after i'm 18 i'll be living with him. That is so cool. gaining on a year, bitches.

Time is no object... a day is as long as a year is as long as a second. a moment without him is too long.. but i am so willing to wait. we have the rest of our lives to be together and even happier than now; what's a few years of only incredible happiness compared to that?

i love him.

I love you |10:23 PM

 



 

troublesome, troublesome, troublesome...

It is so very hard to realize that he has problems that I used to... but what should I say? How can I help him? I can't ask him to stop, tell him that all it takes is willpower... that's not true at all.

It does not come in the form of a choice or even a realization. The lines of red across your arms will stop appearing when you become bored of them. Isn't that anticlimatic? That's what all of that pain, the torture, boils down to... boredom.

We did come to a consensus on a few things though. I don't think he feels so alone. Our motivations were the same... Yes, I too brought harm to my body because I fucked things up. Because I was more trouble than I was worth. Because bad things were happenin to me and the people around me and if I didn't cause them, I didn't stop them. We have both been there. The eating disorder? Oh the masks of the eating disorder. I weigh more right now than I have in my entire life. 130 pounds... at 5'5"... He's lost 60 pounds in what i can assume is about 6 months. How does weight manifest itself so? In the age of the middle class, the emphasis of perfection has moved away from education and aristocracy, and towards more controllable factors. Things you can blame people for. His need for control manifests itself in his weight... and he wants her to be proud of him. To recognize that he has worked hard to get something and she should be proud.

I've been here. I've done this.

I remember telling someone once that they should just be happy I found a way to get through the day and stop worrying about what that way is. It is my body and my concern, and no one else's. I remember how logical it seemed to me and how ignorant and cold to everyone else.

All I can be to him is that accepting ear. I cannot change what he thinks, rearrange what he does, explain to him who emily is to him.

I know the answers to his problems, but if I dare tell him.. the questions change.

I know that Emily is to him what Zack was to me; a catcher in the Rye.. and I know that he will only hurt her. That in the end, his dysfunction will win out and until he has some time alone to truly mutillate himself and see what little good it does him.. he will never recognize why he needs to stop.

It's that alone time that's the most dangerous. I can name many a person who were almost lost to that short time.. my name is among them.

I could ask andrew to do something seemingly wonderful; hide the knives. put away the razor blades. disallow safety pins. And then I remember the resourcefulness addiction inspires within you , and I know that it would be like trying to hide the spinning wheel from sleeping beauty. Somehow... there is an allure to our own destruction; a light that we are like moths drawn to in one form or another, and i cannot cover that light.

I will not save this boy. I have barely saved myself... I will be a listening ear, an encouraging voice, a figure of understanding.. but in the end I realize that I will have changed nothing that would not have already been.

I love you |1:58 PM