Box of Maniacs

Six Metaphors over Georgia

2012-02-06T22:18:00.002-06:00

I am on the commitment rollercoaster. The nail-biting ride up the hill clickety-clickety-click--click---click when you're heart's pounding and you're thinking, "Oh, god, this was a terrible idea, why did I do this, I have to get off!" is where I am most of the time. But then, of course, the track peaks, the car tips, and you're careening down the other side, and even though it's scary it's exhilarating, you feel free and good and you can't help but laugh and shriek in delight. That's the part that keeps me around. But it never stays that way, and inevitably I wind up creeping up the next hill again. It's making me a bit nauseous. I just want to get off the ride and get on with my real life. This rollercoaster can't last forever. Eventually you roll back into the station, climb out, wobble around a bit, and then go buy cotton candy and get on with the day. Sadly the question remains: will I be walking to the Snack Shack swinging hands with Atlas, or will I be walking to the Snack Shack alone?

Ho-Hum

2011-12-27T17:46:00.003-06:00

I am not well. All week, I've been getting worse and worse. I'm depressed. I feel terrible guilt about virtually everything. I'm paralyzed by sloth and apathy. I'm becoming despondent. I don't want to pack, I don't want to write my application essays, I don't want to work on Atlas' (belated) Christmas card. These are all things that I absolutely. must. do. Instead I'm on the couch in Atlas' hand-me-down over-sized sweatshirt, eating icing out of the can, and watching How I Met Your Mother reruns. I just want to cry and pull the blankets over my head.

Atlas gave me a light box for Christmas. I forgot to use it today. It says "not for use in patients with bipolar disorder." I was never sold on the diagnosis anyway. But maybe it'll just make me even more cranky. And promiscuous. I guess we'll just wait and see...

Prize Fighters? Or Just Fighters?

2011-11-21T22:07:00.002-06:00

We've been getting in arguments a lot lately. Is this a phase? Is this something we are supposed to work through, that will bring us closer together? Or are we falling apart?

I'm slightly scared of life because there is so much uncertainty in my future. Little(r) things like where-am-I-going-to-live-next-year, and will-I-get-in-to-Comparative-Religion-next-quarter aren't so bad, although they aren't helping, but the fact that there are huge items still up in the air is making me cluck around like a nervous chicken. Like, what happens if I don't get accepted into either of my chosen nursing programs? How much will things change if Atlas and I don't stay together? How much will they change if we do? Makes my tummy hurt.

I wish I was everything he needs.

baseline drop

2011-11-16T22:26:00.002-06:00

I wish I knew if it was that the brand of my birth control makes me feel awesome, or that the generic makes me feel terrible.

I'm thinking about getting off Yaz and switching to something less likely to kill me, and adding an AD as well. The generic of Yaz is no fun, but I've been on it for....three? months now, and I'm really starting to slip away. I had a classic meltdown on Atlas last night. I felt so awful and couldn't convince myself to get out of bed. He called and wanted to come over to cheer me up, and I told him not to because it wouldn't help. He came over anyway, and exactly what I thought would happen, happened. His being there didn't make me feel any better, but when he attempted to leave an hour or so later, I went into a full panic, being convinced that I absolutely could. not. be by myself in the apartment, BEGGING him not to leave me there alone. Naturally, he was annoyed, because I wasn't acting like a normal human being. And of course I kept yelling, "I told you not to come over!" I knew I was being ridiculous, but I couldn't stop. I was so scared and sad that I felt I didn't have physical control over what I was doing.

I haven't been that bad in a loooong time. It sucked. It's like, you cross this line where there's no talking yourself out of it. It's terrifying. And Atlas doesn't get it, not hardly any more than a little bit. I can't explain it to him, because 1) normal people never get it, and 2) I can never explain anything to him.

"You're not crazy," he repeats, a verbal pat on the head.

Saturday Night's All Right for Fighting

2011-11-12T20:48:00.002-06:00

The neighbors in my apartment complex are getting hiiiiiiiigh. On my way back from taking the dog out, I stood in the hallway for a few moments before going in, breathing. Reminiscing. And I admitted it out loud.

"I miss him."

I don't know anyone who smokes any more, and that makes me sad.

Questions

2011-09-21T21:31:00.002-05:00

Today, in the car, in the rain, in the bright afternoon, Atlas held my hand and asked if I really want to marry him (per usual).

I said yes, and he asked what I was most looking forward to about being married to him. I thought about it a moment and said, "Coming home to you every day. . . and getting to sleep with you every night." Pause. "Is that a good enough answer?" (Half-tease.)

He said yes, and so I asked, slightly nervously, what about him?

He said, "
drinking hot cider or cocoa with you in the winter and watching the Olympics on TV
going on walks together
talking about more than just the day-to-day stuff
"

and I think, he wants me to be there, with a warm glow in my stomach, just be there for everything.

"
you're the first person I've ever been with who's actually encouraged me to. . . do the things that I like. . . like play computer games, to relax, even if it's something that doesn't hold value to you
I like that

and I like it when you sing to me
Sometimes I just hear you singing as you do things around the house
I like that a lot
"

Today was a point-and-click snapshot of true, honest, deep love. It was holy. Sacred. I trembled in the knowledge that this love is for me, bestowed upon me, made from me, all around me. I trembled in the knowledge of his bravery; his deep, living heart; his very soul. The nakedness of the moment was something I felt honored, in awe of, to experience.

God has blessed my soul with the gift of Atlas. He is the redemption for everything I've suffered, all the pain of my past. Is that too bold? How could he not be?

(A dangerous question to ask.)

Memories, Lies

2011-09-19T23:11:00.003-05:00

This afternoon it was raining. Atlas and I went up to his bedroom and opened the window. I rubbed his back and his neck, and then we made love on top of the covers.

I thought about the first time we hung out, how we went up to your bedroom the next morning. It was raining and you had the windows open, and you sang "Hey Jude" as you rubbed my back.

Afterwards I wished we had cigarettes. I wanted nothing more than for Atlas to smoke with me, lying back on the bed and blowing smoke at the window screen. We always lit cigarettes after we fucked, like something out of a novel or a movie. You had a small, handmade clay ashtray on your side of the bed. I can't remember if I ashed on the floor or not.

Atlas will never smoke with me, will never go to a greasy diner and order hashbrowns and black coffee and chain smoke with me. I thought about how, when you were lying to me, it didn't matter what I was wearing or how dumpy I looked, I felt good because you wanted me. You made me sexy. You fucked me and made me a sex icon, Marilyn Monroe in my black tights and combat boots.

Atlas asked me what I was thinking about. I said, "Nothing," and smiled at him.

Prize Fighters

2011-09-13T20:36:00.004-05:00

Atlas and I are awesome fighters. We don't call each other names, and we always work it out in 48 hours or less, because we luuuuuv each other and are relationship peaceniks. (Although we sometimes place blame and we do tend to get mean. But hey, you have to do something wrong, that's how it becomes a fight!)

We talked this afternoon, Day 2 of the stand-off. It definitely wasn't an instant make-up that quickly dissolved into intense sex, that's for sure. We seem to have polar opposite perceptions of what the topic of the argument even is. However, we have come to tentative terms. I used an awesome restaurant analogy. We held each other tight and kissed like first kisses.

There is still a quiet between us. However slim, the space is noticeable. He said he'll call me tomorrow, meaning not tonight, not before he falls asleep.

I feel better, but not good. Not comforted or comfortable. But I know I am going to fight for this. I don't want to lose us. I realized today, Atlas is not only holding up my skies, he is the very sunshine filtering through them.

Sunday.

2011-09-12T22:13:00.002-05:00

Second anniversary. Another huge fight. I leave sobbing at midnight.

Sex--or the lack thereof--is again the culprit.

Help.

the turning of the tide

2011-08-12T19:46:00.001-05:00

I've decided not to leave him.

Last Night

2011-07-27T15:50:00.002-05:00

We went on a walk after I got home from class. The quiet threaded between our arms and legs and swirled 'round our heads, though we talked of other things. We held hands the whole time, and we both kept squeezing so tight, fear in our fingers, and in the hearts we thought we might be losing.

When I walked him back to his car, he wrapped both arms around me and said, "Well, if you decide to leave me, I hope you find someone who loves you as much as I do."

Psychotherapizing Myself

2011-07-26T15:34:00.003-05:00

We got in a fight on Sunday and haven't spoken since yesterday morning. I honestly think this is the longest we've gone without speaking in over a year. And you know what? I'm not upset. In fact, it's been nice to be free from him for a day or two. I'm in no hurry to call him. I'm enjoying the time off.

Yes, I realize the phrases I just chose.

I don't know if I'm just annoyed because we talk on the phone at least three times a day, EVERY DAY (and rarely go two without seeing each other). Annoyed because I feel as if I'm being swallowed up by him; I'm having trouble remembering who I am(was), the things I liked to do, the kind of movies I used to watch, the food I liked to eat. I go along with his ideas to be agreeable and it's been building up all this time, and now two years later I'm finally starting to look around and think, "Hey, who the hell am I?" I'm not me anymore, not Angela. I think that's why I've been so bored lately. Because I don't really enjoy almost any of the things Atlas and I do together, not really.

Huh.

And the thing is, I go along with his ideas because, more often than not, in the moment I don't really mind, and it's better to do what he wants than to do what I want, because he likes almost nothing that I like, and is a complete sourpuss when I talk him into something he wouldn't have chosen for himself. Then I'm uncomfortable and can't enjoy myself. If we listen to music he doesn't like, watch a television show he doesn't want to watch, go out for dinner or to the bar when he'd rather have stayed in (which, let's face it, is ALWAYS), he completely withdraws and sort of closes himself off, to me, and what's happening around us. It's very weird. He was always saying, "team, team, team," but we are not a team. It's like, he wants me in his life, but he doesn't want to have to alter anything about it to accomodate another person being a very close part of it.

He's calling. I answered.

you're there, you're there, you're always there

2011-07-24T22:21:00.002-05:00

I miss you.

I MISS YOU.

I MISS YOU!

I MISS YOU!!!

How could you have done that to me? WHY? WHY? I LOVED YOU SO MUCH.

(it is the thunder of my soul.)

i would be a mad hatter except i'm not too fond of hats

2011-07-20T16:09:00.002-05:00

HELP!

Meds adjusted upwards. Hopefully I'll feel better soon.

As it is, I can hardly stand being around Atlas. The thought of spending the rest of my life with him sounds like true and utter punishment. He is terrificly annoying, has no sex drive, and acts like a goon.

I know you aren't supposed to run your life based on feelings, but you can't completely ignore them, right? They have to mean SOMETHING, right? Complicating the matter, I'm not sure that any of my current feelings are even REAL.

Not being able to trust your own mind because you're half-mad sucks and it makes me nervous and panicky.

And now I've stayed up too late and have no time to take a nap before class.

(I'm half-afraid I'll tell Atlas the unflattering statements above. Those are things you can't take back. Ever. The other half is afraid I won't say anything at all.

What do I deserve? What will I get?

College is a Little Scary

2011-07-18T16:23:00.002-05:00

Trying to figure out exactly what I need to take and in what sequence is frazzling me. I just want someone to hand me an outline and say, "This is exactly what you need to take and when to pre-req you for OSU in this many years." (Sad to say "years" instead of "months." I have effectively been in college forever.)

They're starting to recognize me at the advisors office.

In the words of Katelin at Dubbs Pubbs, "Help!"

The End of June

2011-06-27T21:16:00.002-05:00

Tonight he smelled like summer //beer and the light sheen of sweat on tan skin//.

He was asleep when I tiptoed into his bedroom, so asleep that he didn't stir even when I dropped my keys and crawled into bed beside him. He was warm, and I cried, and eventually the rise and fall of his chest calmed the thunderstorm inside me. I could see him struggling to wake up, open his eyes, and he squeezed my hand a little.

Later he held me close with both arms wrapped around me and wouldn't let me get out of bed when it was time.

I didn't even mind.

Well...

2011-06-14T18:38:00.003-05:00

...Googling cervical dysplasia did me a lot of good.

Just kidding. It scared me so much I cried.

I've got another repeat PAP coming up, on Tara's birthday. This will be the... fifth? one, I think?, since my gyno originally found the abnormal cells. That's all they have ever told me. "Abnormal cells." "We'll keep an eye on it." "Come back in six months." Suddenly this is striking me as suspicious.

Atlas and I had violent sex last night, which resulted in me shuffling around in pain all day. The typical aftershock of rough sex, I presume, but this was worse than any time I can remember before. My boss actually approached me and offered to send me home. I was confused. "You don't have to, I'm just saying, you can if you need to," she said, very concerned, low tone. "You look like you're in a lot of pain." That made me laugh. It's not like this was the first time Atlas and I have had very rough sex, and I have never experienced this level and duration of pain afterwards, so I thought my cervix must be very low. When I checked it, it was indeed very low....and there were bumps on it. Three or so, it scared me so I didn't stick around to feel it out much more. I haven't checked my own cervix since I lived in Cincinnati, over two years ago, so it's very possible they've been there for ages and mean nothing. But I mean, come on, who ever heard of bumps on your cervix? Possibly everyone but me, but hey! You don't know, you don't know.

Anyway, I Googled that first, which led to the aforementioned panic and crying.

I know I don't really have anything to worry about. I'm glad my re-PAP is coming up soon, though. Put my mind at ease. And I am going to be drilling the doctor...they're my own abnormal cells and I need to know about them!

*sigh

Can you keep a secret?

2011-05-25T21:49:00.004-05:00

These days I spend most of my time debating whether or not to break up with Atlas. It seems far-away-and-dire and up-close-and-inconsequential at the same time.

I easily manage to overlook these things:
he does all the cooking
and all the cleaning
he makes my work lunch for me on occasion
he gives massages and back scratches upon request
he is extremely loyal to the point where he doesn't even look at other women -- seriously
he truly loves me
he is always offering to help me with my homework (even though he's not usually that productive at it)
he wants to marry me, have babies, and get a job which would enable me to do nothing but sleep all day and lounge around the house (if we don't have babies, I guess)

...and instead see only these:
he hardly ever wants to fuck me
he makes odd noises and voices that irritate me to no end
he is sort of a social asshole without even realizing it
we don't communicate with each other very well

I don't think we talk enough (not about anything real) or have physical chemistry or get along very well naturally. I wonder if he's asexual or maybe even gay or if we'll ever truly see eye-to-eye.

Speaking of which. He doesn't look me in the eye when we say "I love you." Sometimes he will be looking at me, and I'll get to about "I lo--" and he'll look away. And say, "I love you too" while gazing around the room, with no real feeling behind the phrase.

This greatly disturbs me.

I'm worried we're not meant to end up together, as I have since disconcertingly early in the relationship. I'm not sure why. Something just feels "off." Always has. And I can't quite put my finger on it.

I don't feel a soul connection with him.
He doesn't feel or smell like home to me.
He doesn't look me in the eye when we make love or make me feel desirable (which I always thought was something that happened by default when someone was attracted to you).

I'm just not 100% sold on this.

Isn't it awful?

My mother would be horrified. She's fairly well planned out our wedding already, I'm sure.

In fact, we've kind of planned out our wedding a bit. We've already looked in about a dozen jewelry stores for engagement rings. I'm not as excited about it as I always assumed I would be.

Help.

(I know what I would tell me if I was someone else.)

anniversary, again

2011-04-23T16:25:00.001-05:00

You know, it occurred to me a few days ago that if I stopped writing it on the calendar I might forget the dates completely.

driving home from work, wednesday

2011-03-02T15:47:00.003-06:00

I wonder if you kept the letter I wrote you
and stuck in your pocket (while you slept in the armchair),
before I kissed your greasy forehead
and walked out of your door for the last time.

I wonder if you ever even found it.
Maybe it sat in your pocket for a few weeks
and then got sent through the wash
and you found it in the dryer,
folded, wrinkled and faded.
Maybe you stared at it for one passing moment
and then threw it in the trash.
(Never thought about it again.)
I can see you doing that.

I've been listening to Never Take Friendship Personal and thinking
of you,
of you,
of you.
When will you leave me?
I am desperate for the day.

a name

2010-12-07T19:42:00.003-06:00

"...he knows the depths of all the seas, and he, no other, holds the tall pillars that keep the sky and earth apart."

Homer, Odyssey 1. 52 ff

Atlas.

Perfect.

2010-11-14T22:08:00.000-06:00

I miss Niobe.

She just made so much sense.

fuck.

2010-11-09T17:22:00.003-06:00

I can't keep from remembering his fuzzy head, his sickly pale skin fit perfectly on his hard body, the heat in the car, asking me to roll the window down so he could smoke, the way the wooly felt, THE FUCKING SCENT WHEN HE WAS THAT CLOSE TO ME, his shoes and the way he sat on his feet, like a little boy, the way he licks his lips, that wild look in his eyes, sharing cigarettes without ever having to ask, how he kissed my fishnetted foot on the floor in front of the space heater, falling asleep on the couch curled around me like a koala and I couldn't get out from under him, going to get the Christmas tree on the side of the road, your weak chin, how perfectly my face fit into the curve between your shoulderblades, how you felt in bed in the middle of the night and it goes on and on and on and I have to stop.

Is it because it's November?

the haunt

2010-11-09T17:21:00.001-06:00

Am I making a huge mistake?

the wave of light

2010-10-15T15:21:00.002-05:00

I still think of you, love. I still remember.

(We'll be at the movies at 7:00 and I'm sorry.)

(It's so cold, so desperate, so relieving, this moving on.)

I think you wished I hadn't said it

2010-09-22T20:29:00.003-05:00

All day I worked next to a woman wearing lots o' patchouli. When we got back from lunch, she smelled slightly of cigarette smoke as well.

You wore patchouli that fall. I remember the scent, mixed with your skin and hair oil, so clearly. Spooning in my bed that afternoon, my back to the wall, telling you you smelled like home...

I thought of you all day. I tell myself I don't care.

sunday, in the dark

2010-09-20T01:27:00.003-05:00

Tonight he said, "I think we're going to go from being the couple that everyone hates, to being the married couple that everyone hates."

I laughed and agreed. I told him I didn't care and he said he didn't either.

We're happy. It makes me dizzy.

(cheating)

2010-08-15T01:35:00.003-05:00

This is the end, beautiful friend.

This is the end, my only friend.

The end of our elaborate plans.

The end of everything that stands.

The end.

No safety or suprise.

The end.

I'll never look into your eyes again.

I finally told Adam off. But nicely, I think. Everything I needed to say to him, should have said years ago. I think this time the door might actually be closed, for goodgoodgood.

This moment was a long time coming, and I just finally reached the point where I could let go. Fuck.

Feels weird.

Got an email from him. Thought about it for a few days. Sat down and wrote it out. Clicked send.

Sounds so easy, yeah?

He is a memory of freedom, of life, of utter happiness, of home, and of pain. (screaming, bleeding pain, like a piece of my soul had been taken) I suppose I'll feel that stabbing/happy nostalgia till the day I die.

He gave me something, but when he tried to take it back he took some of me with it and I'll never again be who I was the moment before he crossed the street to stand under our window, shouting up William Blake at my request.

I was such a fool.

v. to pledge one's own self

2010-06-07T19:22:00.003-05:00

His lease is up in May and we're moving then, west, it looks likes.

Friday night we walked downtown, went to a few bars, and on the way home he announced that he thought we should get engaged before we move.

"I think we should, at least, get engaged before we move," he said.

And, "Maybe you should take some more time to think about it."

And I said, "Stop."

"I've already though about it."

And, "That makes me feel a lot better."

The next night I paired our names together in my head and a bright shiver of excitement ran though me.

Your whole life you imagine these moments, wonder what they'll be like, wonder how other people do them.

I think this is it.

attempt at getting shapeless words out of my chest

2010-05-21T08:17:00.003-05:00

It's raining outside today, and I have half a mind to go driving, looking for you. I would meet you today. I'm sure the search would turn up fruitless, I'd just get dizzy from cigarettes and come home, cranky with nostalgia and wasted time.

We were a disaster, me and you, but you knew me well, and I worry. Worry because I know that he does not, know me the way that you did. Do I think he can't truly love me because he's never experienced my cruelty? But I don't want him to, I could never, would never hurt him. I'm not like that any more. But it's still there, inside me, somewhere deeper and weaker than it used to be. But I know it could come out again.

I can't tell him these things, how I worry there's something fundamentally wrong with us that will destroy our lives later, years from now.....it's the little things that make me wonder. His hands. The way he laughs when I'm upset. How he very rarely looks at me when we make love. Sometimes I tell him to, but even then it's as if he doesn't really see me, as if he's staring at the tops of my irises and can see no further. Sometimes I feel alone when I am with him, frustrated, and our hearts don't touch. This man, this beautiful creature, so delicate and so strong all at once, this hunter of my heart, who has caught it, but holds it now in one hand, watching warily. I love him, in a way I have never loved anyone before, but he doesn't understand, can't seem to hear me in my words or actions. I cannot bear the thought of losing him because of some miscommunication. Maybe I'm expecting too much from him too soon. It hasn't even been quite a year. I know he's used to being lied to, deceived on all levels, and that this will take a long time. It's just sometimes I feel like we're not making any progress at all, continually coming back to the same conversations and loops of thought, magnifying nuances in my movement and the tone of my voice. I'm trying. But most of the time I just feel like I'm failing. Like I can't make him happy, unable to lay his fears to rest for even a moment. And that worries me. I feel like if we're really meant to be together, then I could make him understand, he would know when he looks in my eyes.

Yes, I just said that. "Meant to be." Is it a childish notion? I don't know..... But oh, how my heart aches to know him, to reach out to him and make contact. What am I missing? Why can't I do this?

And then always, the fear that I'm not it, I'm not good enough for him, that it ain't me you're looking for, babe.

So my forehead stays wrinkled. Cigarettes.

anniversaire

2010-04-26T20:11:00.002-05:00

I've been wearing the necklace, but outside of noticing the dates I don't really feel anything.

I don't know if that's because four years was finally the magic number for me, or maybe just because S takes such good care of me and I've been so occupied, so stupidly happy, with him.

It's weird, but honestly something of a relief.

I still miss you. <3

quite lovely, yes?

2009-11-05T16:08:00.008-06:00

(excuse the missing corners)

I've never been much of a carnation fan, but I've grown quite affectionate towards these particular blooms, perhaps because of the giver. And it's been something close to two weeks since you gave them to me, yet look how good they still look! My mother says carnations are hardy, but I am still surprised.

You are lovelier than any flower could ever hope to be.....I cannot help but wait, wait for it all to come crashing in on us. Most likely by my own fault, or some fatal personality-sandpaper flaw that will eventually bubble to the surface. Still, I am content to hold my breath. You are worth the possibility of wasted time.

bah

2009-09-04T01:30:00.002-05:00

I still check the email every so often, hoping to see your name on white. Sometimes not for months, sometimes every week or so. Sometimes every day. I wish you would leave that crazy, crazy girl and come back to me, back to this crazy, crazy girl. I can't forget you. Even your physical presence is cemented in my mind. Unlike Luc says, it's not going away, and it's been years. How long does it take? I don't want to be 48 and still know your eyes, the shape of your head, your body, your hands, the humidity of your skin, the smell of your hair, and the occasional scratch and squeak to your voice. And the emotional component is so, so, so much worse. I can't believe you don't need me anymore. I don't know what I thought would happen. The opposite, I think. Damn, boy. You have scarred me and it's ugly.

someday, i will learn how to stop

2009-08-07T00:58:00.002-05:00

bravery?

2009-07-21T03:04:00.000-05:00

Signs from the Safe?

2009-03-21T21:37:00.003-05:00

At work on Thursday I fed a ten dollar bill into the "money vending machine," as I call it, to exchange for a roll of quarters. This is what came out.

I apologized to Adam.

i don't really understand schrodinger's cat

2009-03-19T01:02:00.003-05:00

Today a girl with a thick European accent came into work asking for directions to Dayton. Her eyes were very pretty in an understated way.

"If I go this way to 2...40?"

"270?" I offer, and her eyes light up in recognition.

But of course, always horrid with directions, I wasn't much more help than that. When she tried to open one of the maps and was confused as to why it was sealed shut, I pointed out that she'd have to buy one if she wanted to use it.

"Oh! In Germany you don't have to buy." Of course I thought of Adam Rose, feeling a little bit guilty for the last contact we'd had, missing him a little.

But of course I couldn't repress a little inward snort, too. I would run into the German going to Dayton.

Thursday

2009-03-13T02:19:00.002-05:00

A dillion pregnant women came into work.
I thought more about slicing the cut down my arm.
There was a letter from Adam Rose.

it's the little things that make you worry

2009-03-07T02:15:00.000-06:00

Is there a nice way to tell someone you want to blow them?

No, I don't think there is.

vapid as the new chiz

2009-03-02T01:35:00.004-06:00

Since I got to Delaware, I've been sleeping more than usual and have had an absolutely insatiable craving for chocolate. I am absolutely ridding the house of all things chocolate. I went up to 120mg of Cymbalta a week or so ago.....mostly I've just had dry mouth and my skin itches all over for no apparent reason.....so I'm contributing it to that. I feel like I'm more lethargic and unmotivated than ever (ex. my only goal for today was to repaint my nails and I didn't even manage that). Going through cycles of extreme to moderate self-destructiveness, although so far I've held off on actually acting on it.

I've been thinking about my ghostie SO MUCH, and today I actually cried at some gay-ass Wether's Original chocolate caramel commercial. sigh sigh sigh.

I fear I will one day accidentally smother Adonis to death 'cause I can't stop squeezing him, he's so fucking precious. Clearly I would not do well with a human child.

I've been feeling the need to talk talk talk everything out of my head and into reality a la Cora Sharpe.

Today I felt internally fidgety, anxious, impatient, yet still managed to spend the overwhelming majority of the day on the couch.

Also I've decided the medical community should rename MDD, 'cause there's a huge difference between feeling depressed or being depressed and.....having depression, and it gets confusing. The disorder is so much more varied and complicated than the single emotion. And no one who doesn't have it fucking gets it.

ALSO, I've decided that the description of MDD as an episodic thing that you can get, be treated for, and then it will eventually go away is BOGUS BULLSHIT and they only say it to make people feel better when they first realize they have it. Depression isn't circumstantial. Not the real thing. It's not the emotional equivalent of a flu you can get after your dad dies or you have a baby or you're stressed out at work. If you've got it, if you're really depressed, you've got it for life, baby.

If One Drinks Much from a Bottle Marked Poison...

2009-02-27T00:37:00.002-06:00

A few nights ago a beautiful black man came into work. He looked like money and good taste. He struck up a conversation with Summer and I, in the course of which we learned he was from Chicago. An odd, unexpected little feeling crept into me. A small strike of pain. But it wasn't just my memory. Yeah, the mention of Chicago made me think, "Oh yeah, the White Rabbit," but it wasn't in my brain. It was in my heart. Which was weird, because I thought it was just the betrayal and the rejection and his pretty, pretty shell, but I guess I actually miss him a little, too. Hmm.

sugarloaf

2009-02-22T01:07:00.004-06:00

Flat green, with a tinge of yellow-brown that I hate (which usually goes all the way around like a flower).

After work: smudgy make-up, shiny skin.

I like my eyes, I think they're pretty, and people, sometimes strangers even, occasionally compliment them. But they still fall short to me. I wish they were all green, and more vibrant. But as it stands, here they are.

They are tragically, supposedly, the color of jade.

The St. Valentine's Day (E)Massacre

2009-02-15T00:21:00.004-06:00

I'm legitimately merry until after dinner, reheating my latte in the microwave, when I suddenly find myself counting up their Valentine's Days. Realizing that I am no longer the main romantic girl in his life story. She is.

I have to step into the living room, away from everyone else. I bite my thumb, blink very hard, breathe deeply and command myself that I'm fine, fine, fine. I step back into the kitchen.

So we've established quite well that I don't feel as if I can live without him. But I can't have him. Soooo, now what? I can't stop living. But I'm just not sure how exactly to go about it.

Hmm. Happy Valentine's Day.

2009-02-10T01:02:00.002-06:00

I wonder how you feel about tequila. We never got around to talking about that.

Oh, my Ghost, my Phantom Lover. I miss you.

2009-02-08T01:59:00.001-06:00

It's been over two years, yet somehow I still stubbornly and firmly believe our red thread is stretched and tangled. Stretched and tangled, but not broken. How long will I believe that?

2009-02-07T01:42:00.000-06:00

2009-02-04T04:47:00.002-06:00

"[Her] life was a much smaller affair, surrounded on all sides by these ever-darkening, incomprehensible nights and day."

-Delusions of Grandma, Carrie Fisher, page 13

Angela Gets Rejected Shortly Before Valentine's Day -- Again

2009-02-03T22:26:00.003-06:00

The White Rabbit did not come today like he's been professing excitement towards for absolutely weeks. Moreover, he failed to tell me he wasn't coming. But wait! There's more! Two calls, one text, and one message later...I think this is me being officially ignored.

Okay. Third Time's a Charm got over me in a matter of hours, so if this chap's another contestant on Who Can Get Over Angela the Fastest?, I am ready to accept that. Perhaps not pleasantly ready, but ready. But if the lack ---

Oh, wait. A reply.

A simple explanation. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN SAID TWELVE HOURS AGO?!?!

*sigh* This is getting exhausting. And I'm only 20! No wonder single chicks in their 30s tend to get so wigged out... Okay, I didn't phrase that right, it sounds offensive in my head. But, you know what I mean. Shit, Adam Rose moved to Germany without telling me, I should get a free pass for people to be conscientious of me, for at least a little while.

White Rabbit aside, it doesn't help that the images of bloody wrists and high-rise jumps have been haunting me ever since I arrived in Delaware. Confession: I've been wishing I had the courage. To do it right this time. Sooooo, a silly boy that I fell for like a silly girl acting sterotypically male and his age? Not helping me feel any better.

Blah.

"Some day you're gonna look back and realize how good we have it."

2009-02-02T00:05:00.003-06:00

I make it half-way down Hills Miller before I start yelling. "It's not fair, that you get to move away, and start a whole new life, in a whole new place, and be perfectly happy, and never come back here, and I have to come back here all the time and SEE YOUR FUCKING FACE EVERYWHERE!"

Adonis' head snaps up. I pat him. "Not you."

A minute later I sigh and say aloud, "No. It's fair. I'm just upset."

Once again, it's all closing in on me. Nothing can be done. There's no escape from you in this town.

sunday morning

2009-01-26T00:14:00.002-06:00

In the shower I wait till he puts conditioner in his hair before sinking my fingers in, thinking of teddy boys. He makes the face but lets me have my way. I slick the sides back and mold a DA at the nape of his neck. I attempt a curl over his forehead, but the weight of the conditioner makes it flop against his wet skin. I grin, hold him by the chin and turn his head from side to side. He blushes; I groan. "You would be so sexy as a greaser!" He shakes his hair loose and steps under the water.

saturday night/sunday morning

2009-01-19T18:34:00.003-06:00

The girls sit on the bed or the floor. I'm naked as the day I was born and so is the White Rabbit; PR is like 15-year-old Travis with his pants at half-mast. Everyone is talking, solidly drunk and happy. We tease each other, kiss each other, take shots of Jack and share cigarettes. We're still young. We're dumb. I know it.

I love it.

Niobe's ending her blog.

2009-01-14T17:12:00.002-06:00

Well, she says it's a break but that she "might not" be back. You know what that means.

I'm legitimately upset about this.

Which I know is selfish and possibly kind of stupid but this is my blog and I can say what I want here.

I'm really going to miss her.

2009-01-14T00:21:00.002-06:00

I find an old picture of you I'd forgotten about and for a hyper-split second I can almost smell you. Damn, fuck.

Tonight I asked Katelin if she thought you were ever coming home, when what I meant to say was if you were ever coming back.

I want to forget about you. I want to forget all about you.

That Doesn't Seem Fair

2009-01-06T01:43:00.002-06:00

You told me if I ever needed anything, anything, that you would be there for me, that you would do whatever you could to help me.

Well, now I need you. I need you. But you don't love me anymore.

You're taking back promises.

today

2009-01-04T02:43:00.003-06:00

SoCal in my section
questions about cologne
I say, "my sweetheart moved away"
(SWEPT OFF, LIKE GARBAGE IN THE ALLEYWAY! and I need more grace than I thought)

it felt strange.

new year's apple

2009-01-01T14:51:00.002-06:00

I hate myself.

I am the stupidest girl who ever lived. I'm stupid. I can't do anything right. I can't take care of myself.

Last night I dreamed I tried to kiss you but you pulled away from me. Just as my lips touched yours, you got up, crossed the room, and took a swig out of the whiskey bottle. Then you sat down again and said, "Do what you were going to do."

The blood runs down my leg. Now I'm going to have a big, fucking, thick scar there because I pressed too hard. Because I forgot that you don't have to press that hard with razors. Because I'm stupid.

I hate myself. I always suspected that I wouldn't learn how to run my life just because I got older. And I was right. I don't do this well at all.

I hate the cut on my leg. I hate myself. I'm awful. I'm just so awful.

nice

2008-12-30T18:39:00.002-06:00

your t-shirt smells like money
and kisses
and your cock behind me
and your hands on the waists of gay boys, shoving them up against walls

our fingers entwined
and your mouth scrunched to one side
your head ducked in the shower
and the way that you're not quite comfortable with yourself

I could eat you up, in little bites, piece by piece.
I could tie you up and never let you down.
But mostly I just like having you around the house, even if we're not talking.
It's nice passing you in the hallway.
It's nice hearing you brush your teeth.
Can't we just, do this, for a little while?

cigarettes and lies, i am a child

2008-12-18T20:30:00.002-06:00

I have dreams...but I wake up in fear that you will never be my dear, dear friend.

A few nights ago I reread your latest letter, and then after I fell asleep you were standing on my parent's front porch. It was summertime and you apologized for lingering hugs. You couldn't stay long, you had to get back, back on a plane.

In my dreams you look and act like yourself, except you're usually sweet to me. I feel weird all the next day after I wake up, thinking of you.

Dear Adam Rose

2008-12-16T17:43:00.003-06:00

How can you say you "truly miss" me? Because you're in Germany? We talk more now than we did when you lived at home!

Blue January

2008-12-16T17:21:00.006-06:00

It's coming. It's coming and you're not here, and now I know for sure that you never will be. Sad that I can't even add "again" onto that. But maybe that's for the best, as I can guess I would be sickeningly blue if I had something to compare this absence to.

Of course, this year will probably be a smidge worse, what with the recent news.

so who's selfish, and who's sorry?

2008-12-14T12:52:00.003-06:00

I'm on the verge of slashing myself up all over the place. As it's been for a few days now.

It's not that I didn't mostly know this was the way things are. It's just that without your words spelling the definite end of all my imaginings I was still able to hope, a little bit, sometimes, when the lights were off. When I was feeling very bad.

Because, quite frankly, it was much easier to believe in a fake, false hope than is has been to face the dreadful facts. Ones I can't even quite bring myself to think since Thursday night, 'cause I can't handle and don't want the utter agony they bring to my soul.

No more watermelon dress, no more late afternoon sun on hardwood floors, no more nine to five, no more tattoos, no more world's-rightest sex, no more leaning on shoulders, no more remembering, no more soul understanding...

No more coming home. Ever.
I can't do it, I can't do it.

rhyme; nursery, portentous

2008-12-13T16:15:00.000-06:00

There was an old woman had three sons,
Jerry and James and John,
Jerry was hanged, James was drowned,
John was lost and never found;
And that was the end of her three sons,
Jerry and James and John.

11.30/12.1

2008-12-09T00:43:00.003-06:00

You are inquisitive and sweet. You have blonde hair that's growing into a long stalk at the back of your neck, and ask for advice on what color to dye it. "Not black," I say. "I think dark red would look better." You tell me my hands are dainty and cute, that I have very soft skin. You are polite, chivalrous, even. You thought we got lost on the highway, but the truth is I deliberately ignored my exit because I wasn't ready to give you up, just yet. So we talk until 6AM, when you have to leave to pick up your friend at a party. "I wish I could stay and cuddle," you tell me. I can't manage the nerve to kiss you, even with your hands on my waist, your lips on the back of my neck. You're skinny and scene and young and everything I've never had in my lap before.

You're very far away now. But I feel like our souls might have bits that are the same color, and I wanna lay in bed with you all day, and look in those pretty eyes.

Johnny

2008-12-08T23:34:00.000-06:00

I forgot.

I'm so sorry.

Shit. You've been gone 28 years. That's a really fucking long time. I wonder what you would be doing right now if you were still with us?

I can't believe I forgot, I feel like such an asshole. But I really, really miss you.

What have you got to lose?

2008-12-06T22:21:00.000-06:00

Listen, I know this sounds crazy and it's probably going to be one of the dumbest things you've ever heard, but I just wanted you to know that if you ever find yourself unhappily single at any point in the future, I would sell off important limbs for a second chance with you.

I was never honest enough with you in the right ways, but I'm telling you now that I still love you, and I'm about 99.9986% sure that I'll keep on loving you until well after my death. Whether or not you ever speak to me again.

I will always think of you fondly and I sincerely hope you find contentment and peace in your life.

you you you

2008-11-22T19:18:00.000-06:00

FUCK.

I'm eternally fucked.

There's something I've got to say, but I can't find the correct words to squish it into.

So instead I smoke cigarettes, eat chocolate, watch meaningless tv shows on DVD 'cause I haven't got the patience for a full movie, and yell occasionally.

IT'S NOT HELPING!!!

T33n G1rl Squ4dx0rx!!

2008-11-14T22:32:00.000-06:00

You gotta watch the new Teen Girl Squad. It made me lol. Srrsly.

universal cinerea for the earthbound

2008-11-12T13:54:00.000-06:00

It's raining in Nashville today.

Power's out downtown; at work they sent all the servers home. So instead of checking the level of sweet tea in businessmen's glasses, I check things off my to-do list titled "Important!" Run errands, make plans for my best friend's birthday, feel slightly anesthetized... It's surprising how slow the day crawls by when you get up at nine and don't have anything to do. I'd forgotten.

I've got enough time to mope, if it weren't for pre-planned $3 pitchers tonight, Katelin's party. Not that I'd rather lock myself at home, it's just.....

What I need(want), I can't have, so instead I barrel onward, distracting myself with the money spent, the cigarettes smoked, the laughter emitted..... It's quite bizarre.

2008-11-09T15:53:00.000-06:00

(I feel helpless, sleeping at best, waiting for your return...

you're never coming home.)

2008-11-04T23:13:00.000-06:00

all of you just make me feel like screaming.

Devil's Night

2008-10-30T17:53:00.000-05:00

blonde hair + a weekend off work + Kool-Aid =

2008-10-30T15:39:00.001-05:00

_________

....................before..........................................during......................................
......................................................(also known as gay)

_............. .............

...after!................ .........after, dry, con puppy.......

...at the distillery with Katelin!

...Eric?

2008-10-27T17:27:00.000-05:00

I find it very curious that someone at the New York State Office of Mental Health a) was actually concerned enough about my "fuck fuck fuck" post to leave a comment about it, and b) went through the trouble of making it anonymous. Why do you want to know, oh visitor from Long Island City? And why, why anonymous?

October 15th

2008-10-16T00:24:00.000-05:00

Everything felt so far removed. It was as if.....if I were to reach out for it, I wouldn't be able to touch it, but.....I'm not even trying to reach.

The passage of time, so strange, so strange.

you say it's your birthday...

2008-10-10T01:34:00.000-05:00

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

2008-10-08T00:37:00.000-05:00

I hate the way you smell and the shape of your face. I hate the way your mouth looks when it's open, I hate the color of your skin. I hate your feet, I hate the way you move, I hate the faces you make. I hate how fucked up you are, I hate all the attention you get. I hate your voice, when you drop it to softly say, "I know," I hate the way you lay in bed. I hate your ribcage. I hate your t-shirts and your brown shoes and your stupid skater shoes. I hate that your voice is good and you know it. Fuck fuck FUCK! I hate every single memory of you.

get out of my life, don't come back...............you're so respectable

Sylvia said, "What a thrill."

2008-10-06T20:21:00.000-05:00

This afternoon, washing dishes, running soapy silverware and plastic plates under steamy hot water. I scrubbed a steak knife too hard and it slipped, the blade catching my index finger and running hard across it. Not enough to make it bleed, but enough to make me yelp out loud. "Ow!" But I'd said it on automatic, out of surprise, not pain, because as soon as the word was out of my mouth I realized it hadn't hurt at all. It felt good. It felt so good.

trope dope

2008-10-05T23:43:00.001-05:00

Tonight I heard Zoe's (I think) voice for the first time.

I worry that if I met her in real life, I would not like her very much.

Her coworkers think Bend (Oregon) is so cool. I once went to Ecuador with a boy named Ryan who would agree with them. Zoe doesn't.

Then I looked at some of her pictures, but after the close-up one of her boyfriend I stopped, because it made me miss kissing someone because you like them, and then I didn't want to see any more.

Dear Zoe,
I'm like boys in bands: I still miss you.
Love,
Angela.

Sometimes I Feel Like the Boy from "Perfume."

2008-10-04T17:21:00.000-05:00

Last night I was finally introduced to The Cabin, home of Uncle Wally/Ian, House, and George's workspace/location of parties when Wally's out of town. It was lovelier than I had imagined. One entire wall is made of glass, facing the lake, borderline-magical in the early morning. It sits one cove over from where Johnny Cash used to reside. Terribly Nashville, yeah?

A few of the boys' friends joined us for poker and beer.
Of course, the point is that one of them reminded me of you.
Maybe it was all that thick, black coffee, but I think your eyes were actually in his head.
(Like that man on the 17 that sat like you, and I was a bit surprised when I looked up and did not find your head attached to the neck.)
He acted around me the same way you did when we first met; the way he looked at me, the way he talked, the stories he told, the things he laughed at.
It was bizarre.
I was afraid he would touch me.
Because I was afraid of what would happen.
What it would feel like, I guess.

Crystal doesn't think the T'Oaks stairwell has a smell, but it does. Every time I walk up or down, it makes me think of sitting in the corner of the first landing with my pink book, and of the shape of your face in my hands.

Hmm.

It seems increasingly unlikely that I will ever get to kiss you again.

that's kinda funny, 'cause I was gonna do this...

2008-10-01T19:04:00.000-05:00

GanjaStack: twenty. psychology major. my weekend lover. real. lies to himself a lot. intuitive. native american (but not blackfoot). makes high-pitched noises when kissed. wears girls jeans. doesn't have a job. buys three-for-one cigarettes. smells like home.

(Or something like that.)

_________________________

Thursday, September 18, 2008

[enter GanjaStack]

_________________________

Friday, September 19, 2008

When someone likes you, they contact you.

This occured to me while walking to the store this afternoon.

Not that I didn't already know this, but I really realized it just today. "It hit you," they say.

"When we don't know the reasons why someone no longer loves us, we find them."

Along these lines, when you know someone doesn't care much, but don't want to believe it, we give them all sorts of excuses for why they didn't call or stop by. I know it looks like he doesn't like me, but if you think about it.... So today it truly struck me what honest bullshit that is. Why do we do this to ourselves? We psych ourselves out and most likely cause ourselves more trouble in the end by stringing out this wishful thinking.

If someone wants to talk to you and be around you, they will get in contact with you.

And if they don't?

They won't.

No "but"s. No situational circumstances. The end.

_________________________

Saturday, September 20, 2008

GanjaStack and I spend all day together. While I take a shower, he does my dishes and takes out my trash, unasked. We search Clifton on foot for his car. When we find it, we drive across the bridge into Kentucky, to his grandma's house (which he consistently spells G-R-A-M-M-A). While GanjaStack does chores outside, I learn about Howard Hughes in the bathroom, then lay on the couch and pretend I'm Mort Rainey from "Secret Window." He steals gas from his grandma's husband and we stop at three fast food stations before he decides what he wants to eat.

Back to his house, fill our veins with french-fry grease. "Sweeney Todd," Sailor Jerry's, a laughing pledge to marry in 50...40...no, 20 years, so we won't have to die alone.

It's 5AM, we can't stand it any longer...

_________________________

Sunday, September 21, 2008

[[We have fast sex. You moan frantically, come hard.]]

Sometimes you sound as though you're auditioning for the part of Adam Rose, and when you smile really big you look like Vatica Chris, both of which bother me, but for different reasons. In the car on the way to Mikey's, I ask if you know who the latter is, and am slightly relieved when you don't. Without asking, I know you know the former, because you've told me more than once that you hate him. (I wonder if I did not beat Adam to GanjaStack's ex-girlfriend, after all.) He telephoned me from Germany a few days later, and I asked him about you. As it turns out, he hasn't got a clue who you are, so you shouldn't waste much energy on hating him.

_________________________

Monday, September 22, 2008

We're tangled up in the pre-dawn dark, James snoring slightly next to us.

"Goodnight, GanjaStack," I whisper.

"'Night, sweetie," he says.

[[You say the words "happy" and "relief," then call me "sweetie" and kiss me goodnight.]]

_________________________

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

[exit GanjaStack]

_________________________

(OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT!!!

5 Unrelated Topics for the Price of 1

2008-09-30T20:16:00.000-05:00

It's October in three hours. Does that make it fall? Today felt like fall. I wore my woolie and shivered.

I'm a nutjob off of these meds. I'm in Delaware for a couple days, from Nashville, by way of Cincinnati (sheesh), and I forgot my Cymbalta. Today was my third day without it, and it's obvious my body was attached to it. ABRUPT-WITHDRAWAL SYMPTOMS! And I have a slew of them. I want to yell at Julie for everything. I actually have been yelling at the puppy. I've been having bizarre, very intense dreams. I'm a lunatic- I got mad at my dad, then started laughing, and I couldn't figure out why, and when he asked me why, I switched to crying, then laughed some more, then cried some more, laughing, and then crying again. I hate it! It's exhausting. And I'm getting really bad brain shivers. Brain shivers are....hard to describe. It's like you kind of start to feel dizzy, and it feels like your brain is starting to shake inside your skull, and then it speeds up and does a little, well, shiver, almost like a little electric shock went through it. Then it slows down again and then it stops "moving" and then you're back to normal. It makes my vision vibrate, too, and I kind of feel like I'm going to pass out. At first they weren't that bad, and were just in my head, but the longer I went without the medicine, the harder they got, and now the shiver kind of spreads outwards and shoots down the tops of my arms, too. I hate them. They suck really bad. Blech. The brain shocks and the crazy moodiness are the worst parts.

Luckily, I got a new script this evening, soooo, I don't know how long it's going to take before this stuff kicks back in, but hopefully it'll be SOON. Everything makes me want to cry all the time, and I feel miserable.

So I think Henry finally dumped me all the way out of his life. Hmm. I'd expect with all this drug mania to be wickedly sobby-dobby over this, but I'm not. I'm kind of numb to it. [brain shock] Which is cool. Oh, I'll probably come back around at some point and be a nut over it, 'cause that's how I roll (why did I grow up in the ghetto all of a sudden?). But as of today, I really don't mind. Woot. (Maybe because I've spent the past couple days crying heartily about a bunch of other stuff, and there just wasn't enough room between "Operator," the "It's nice to be home" Buehler's slogan, and the Disneyland Sing-Along video to cry over anything else. Ha.)

In court today my "misdemeanor" got dropped from a 1st-degree to a minor --let's pause for a moment to jump up and [brain shock] down and scream while confetti spontaneously rains from the ceiling. good? okay-- I gave them 150 bucks and beat it out of there, never (hopefully) to return. THANK GOD! Seriously! Could there have been a better outcome? Well, other than them dismissing the case entirely? I don't think so. My public defender was a SAINT of Mount Rushmore-esque proportions. Yay for my public defender! (Who's name I clearly and sadly do not know.)

Over the past week, Adonis has completely forgotten what the litterbox is for. He likes to jump in and out of it. He likes to sit in it. But pissing and shitting? That, Angela, is for the carpet, duh. I'm getting very, very frustrated with him, even though the regression was partly my fault for not being very attentive during all the moving around. Arrgh. I want to pay someone else to litter train him, and possibly teach him how to come, sit, stay, off, drop it, and all that, too. But I don't have any money, so I'd consider prostituting myself for this service. Just kidding. Kind of. I feel guilty for not wanting to train him. But I just don't want to anymore. I've had him for a month, and while his tiny brain and bladder haven't caught on, I certainly have, and I'm sick of it. Irrational, I know. But I'm getting a little impatient. So I'm a bad pet owner. Blame it on the Great Discontinuation Debacle of '08. I'm going to.

The Franklin County court building is one of the trashiest places I've ever been. Actually, the building and employees are perfectly normal, what you'd expect. But nearly everyone else in the building... Phew. All the scum of Columbus, all the people who swear in front of their children, all the strung-out addicts, every trashy, unsavory creature you can think of are all gathered in one place. Their extreme dearth of class is made even more obtuse by their proximity to all the government employees in suits and ties, with shiny black briefcases, or pencil skirts and high heels. It's bizarre. Today I overheard a woman telling the guy next to her, whom she didn't know, that her daughter's father is in jail. Well, actually he'd gotten out in April, but now he's back in again. Because he's a fucking idiot. Oh, and a sex offender. Because, and I quote, "his first babymama was underage." She actually said "babymama." The guy next to her said something that seemed like he had understanding for the whole "knocking up a minor" thing, so the girl said, "Well, she was 14." WHY WOULD YOU TELL A STRANGER THAT YOU SLEPT WITH A MAN WHO IMPREGNATED A 14-YEAR-OLD?!?! That makes Bret look like an upstanding citizen. And the whole time she was swearing at her daughter, who couldn't have been more than two, because the little girl wouldn't sit still. Classy, Columbus. Reeeal classy.

Okay, I think that's all the random news I can come up with for tonight. I'll probably be back tomorrow waxing emo over boys who don't love me, like usual. [brain shock] Hey, at least I can laugh at myself, right?

'Night, void.

See, Here's the Thing...

2008-09-29T11:18:00.001-05:00

Saturday Night
I may have still been a little drunk, but on the way home I decided I would still marry you.

Which is stupid, of course.

There's nothing special about you. No, there is, but there's nothing special about your interaction with people....... Here's what I'm trying to say: Everybody thinks they have a special connection with you for --whatever-- reason, but they don't. It's you that's special, not them or your connection. You're special because you can make every fucking person feel that way. It doesn't mean a goddamn thing.

Which is maybe a good excuse for why I love you. Because I "have" to. Because everyone does. It's default. But you make us all think it's something unique and amazing; you make us feel like God for endlessly loving you in spite of the screwdrivers you twist in guts (without even trying). You're so fucked up. You're a bloody mess and you know it and it matters and it doesn't and mostly I wish I could KICK YOU OUT of my mind, but YOU LIVE THERE (I don't even have a rental property in yours.) and I LOVE YOU, I BLOODY FUCKING LOVE YOU! I don't even know what the point of this is anymore, but whether or not I have a good excuse for it, I love you. Fine. Okay? Damn it.

You're the goddamned epitome of human existence. You just do it so well.

Quick! Inhale!

2008-09-11T16:00:00.000-05:00

Today is sunny and warm, perfect end-of-summer weather. I'm happy with a morning walk and a skirt to twirl in. I smile and make phone calls and take care of my puppy and marvel at how vacuous your absence makes me inside. Not quite my heart, not just my soul, but my insides, like certain capillaries and the places between bone and muscle, little bits of lung, all this space running inside of me that you're supposed to fill. But since you're gone it's just empty. Not even air inside, just completely void of anything. Sealed shut. Dead space. It's strange.

Yes, there are plenty of days (especially lately) where I just want you back in my life, even times where I don't think I can even continue to sit still any longer unless something between us changes. But every once in a while I feel at peace. It's not that I'm not thinking of you, I very much am, but it's how I can see through the pain. Moments, hours, days where I know we're okay, that I'm okay, that I can survive without you, that I can and will be happy on my own in my life. Moments where I believe I can be complete, even, without you.

Today is one of those days. I miss you, but I can live with that, around it. Once I wrote,

Perhaps my aching is just something that is. Not specifically could-have-been-remedied, but just something that has to exist, and does, and is therefore something that is not to be fought. I am just meant to live with that and that is fine.

That's how I feel today. Maybe it's just the sunshine. But that's fine.

2008-09-05T22:57:00.001-05:00

SOMETIMES I DON'T THINK I CAN LIVE WITHOUT YOU!

His Apartment Smelled Like Indian Food

2008-09-03T18:49:00.000-05:00

I found an ex-boyfriend of mine on the internet today, and while I had a photo of him up on the screen, my little sister came up beside me and peered over my shoulder. I asked her what she thought. She said, "Well, his hair is very short, and he looks weird." I laughed and asked her what she thought was weird about him. She thought for a moment and then, the crown jewel:

"He looks sinister."

Ha! I shrieked in glee and told her what a great eye she has. Sinister! So true!

Well, actually I always choose the word "condescending" as the perfect linguistical expression of this man, but "sinister" is not bad at all...

chain, chain, chain...

2008-08-30T18:41:00.000-05:00

I am laying on the couch reading about circus sideshows in the 1930s when my phone rings. There's a number instead of a name scrolling across the ID screen, and the area code is the only thing that catches my attention. 314. I've seen these numbers before, or at least, some combination of them. Hmmm.

"Hello?"

This time I recognize his voice.

Adam Rose called me again this afternoon. He tossed out some of the usual gorgeous charm, which I, finally, conceded to wade through, trying to pick out what was real. Actually let myself think there was even a possibility that any of it was real. The whole thing settled better in my stomach this time.

He cracks my mind open further. It is taking me a very long time to learn him, but slowly, slowly, I am figuring little bits out. An awful lot of time must have passed, because....I don't mind.

"I've got a list of numbers and addresses of about 15 people or so, and that's including my mom and my dad and my brother and sister and stuff....people from my past that I want to....still know.......that I want to continue to know, 5,000 miles away." And then he pauses before he adds, "And you're one of them."

"Well," I manage, slowly, honestly. "It's good to hear from you."

"Yeah," he says softly.

i see the crystal vision

2008-08-28T00:33:00.000-05:00

Last night I dreamed about the moat around the sandcastle my little sister and I made at the beach.

Then I dreamed about moving into an apartment right next to Julian Roberts, who I thought it would be fun to spy on (something I have no desire whatsoever to do in real life). Then a boy I hadn't known very long called me on the telephone and broke up with me. Apparently he had decided the day before he didn't want to go out with me anymore, but waited to tell me. Hmmm. Sound familiar?

Funny how your subconscious stores information your upper mind absolutely cannot recall no matter how much it wants to, or how hard it tries. Sometimes it slips in details your alert self wasn't even aware it ever knew. In real life I used to worry about how I couldn't remember what Julian Roberts looked like. To the point where, upon leaving his apartment, I'd be unable to conjure up his face before I even reached the bus stop. But when he walked past the window in my dream, there he was perfectly, even down to the shape of his hair and the color in his cheeks. Last week I dreamed of discovering John Wise working at a convenience store Crystal and I bopped into, and it was just like I was sitting next to him in art class again. I haven't seen that kid in over two years. Whenever I dream of H., everything is exact in a way that tends to freak me out upon waking, I'm talking down to stuff like voice inflections and body temperature. Bizarre. When I dream of the Rose I can never quite see his face clearly, but his clothing, his movements and his social nuances, are all living, breathing Adam Rose.

The mind is such a strange and awesome thing.

Signs You Drink Too Much

2008-08-25T23:14:00.001-05:00

Your puppy gets the hiccups while lying half-asleep in your lap, and the first thing you think is, "Alcohol poisoning!"

Duloxetine Hcl Isn't a Cure-All

2008-08-25T16:26:00.000-05:00

Today I ran into the back bedroom that no one uses and cried, for the first time in absolutely weeks. I cried because I miss Adam. I cried because H. doesn't love me anymore. I cried because (even though this is blatantly untrue) I felt like no one loved me.

When I went to the bathroom to clean up, the mirror reflected a trendy-looking girl with a mascara tear rolling down one cheek. I felt like I didn't recognize her.

unprovocative

2008-08-23T00:51:00.000-05:00

The funniest little things make me grin and skip, arrogant as all hell.

I <3 Grandma

2008-08-22T03:48:00.000-05:00

When I walked into her apartment there was the usual chorus of hellos. She was sitting on the couch, and when I bent down to give her a hug, she squealed (in a grandma kind of way).

"Cute again!"

My grandma always tells me I look pretty. Which is funny, because most of the time I dress a bit...well, what you might call "unconventionally," and you'd think a grandparent wouldn't appreciate lip rings and leopard print dresses and heels that lace all the way up to your knees. But my grandma does. She's 87, and she's hip.

"You dress just like a Barbie doll!"

I laughed.

She pursed her lips together concedingly. "Except, you've got better curves than a Barbie doll."

I love my grandma.

through my mind like curls of smoke (dark gray)

2008-08-22T00:03:00.000-05:00

We went to a museum today and I saw a Renoir sketch called "The Gypsy Girl" and I thought of you.

Surprise!

2008-08-13T03:07:00.000-05:00

Whoa. Is Al Pacino hot in Dog Day Afternoon? Yes.

Who would've guessed that this man could ever be attractive? I'm on the verge on naming the dog Sonny 'cause he was so wicked cool.

everything was exactly how it seemed...

2008-08-12T21:53:00.000-05:00

I dreamed about you last night.

I supposed I should start by saying I thought about you last night, for the first time in days. Not that I hadn't thought about you at all, I actually do quite frequently, whenever I see your name, or things that remind me of you. But it's a fleeting race through my brain, accompanied by a snort, or a slight tightening of the facial muscles, .....or nothing at all. Nothing I allow myself to really feel.

But as I snuggled into the blankets and rubbed my head against the pillow, on the floor of my old bedroom, you settled like a fog in my brain, and the door in my heart swung open. The door behind which hides wishes, old memories, and a yawning, deep blackness, echoing of you, all of it.

So obviously this is what spawned the dream, though it took me quite a while to place all of this upon waking. In fact, I didn't remember it at all at first, until some minutes passed and it dawned on me, and I spent the rest of the day a bit apart from reality, lost in thought, in melancholia.

I can't even quite explain it, except you loved me. You held my hand again and nothing could ever feel that safe, that right, that sound. I could feel our palms touching, the steady grip of fingers. You kissed me and tucked me inside of your arms and relief flooded my body. You were still with her, but she wasn't there and hardly mattered, we mattered, we knew it, and nobody said anything. And I loved you. Everything was so real and you smiled at me a lot. You have a very beautiful smile.

It was, in Summer Haus vocabulary, "a dream." But...that's just it. It was a fucking dream.

Can I tell you a secret? I could crawl inside my head and live in that dream. It was exactly what I (sometimes) want. Except in reality, it seems highly probable that I will never, ever get that, which, to be honest, confuses me.

When I sleep, you always wear the same thing. The clothes you wore the night I made you sit on the couch and kiss me.

I'll get over it./I could slit my wrists.

chaps + chihuahuas = cheer!

2008-08-09T04:40:00.000-05:00

Crazy James pants! (Not featuring Crazy James.)

(Yeah, yeah, the bathroom picture, I know...)

Just like everyone's favorite Big Brother player! Except without the tattoos, the porn log, and the extreme sex appeal.

And, making his first and hopefully not last appearance on my blog, the absurdly over-priced puppy I am honest-to-god seriously considering buying:

For some reason his insatiable adorableness isn't captured quite right in the video. But, I promised the Ponz, so there you have it.

I never thought I would be the type of girl to have either of these things. But....what is that type of girl? When it comes down to it, she's just a person, I guess. Hm....

And anyway, do you have to be a type of person to fall for that face? I don't think you even have to be human for that one. To be honest I'm not even sure that is a dog. It's too darling. I think maybe it was raining in Heaven, and one of the raindrops slipped out and fell through the sky and when it hit Earth it turned into this puppy.

bulletin

2008-08-03T19:09:00.000-05:00

I guess congratulations are in order. You've just officially joined the list of Important Men in My Life, because I was sober when I did it.

A phone call would've sufficed. I'm not even being sarcastic.

(I don't care to make this pretty. It's not pretty.)

I hadn't done it until now because I know you wouldn't want me to, and when I held the knife to my thigh I heard your voice cracking in the car, "because I love you," but I can't hardly be bothered with what you want anymore. You obviously didn't care that much. I'm not hard to please, I'm really not. I am hard to hurt this bad, though. Okay?

Shit.

What, can't I just cut once anymore?

The thing is I think I could just go on and on and never stop. But you've already put three sets of scars on my body and I think that's more than enough.

I Am Mother Superior

2008-07-28T10:48:00.000-05:00

And a self-loathing apple! Someone, please, slit my wrist! What else can one do but laugh at oneself? Hm! Also, perhaps now is the time to stop spilling my sorry, wretched guts all over the internet? Actually, I'm pretty sure that point happened at least four years ago, sooooo why stop now? I mean, I could make a declaration, and then maybe even put forth some effort, but I think I've come to terms by now with the fact that I compulsively scream in type from time to time, so.... why bother? I have bigger fish to fry for now.

Fish with calcium deposits and European travel guides? ::rolls eyes::

_______________________

I would like to say that I know I am a sad, pathetic fuck. I am aware of this. I firmly believe, though, that it is just because there is really not a lot going on in my life right now, so I do a lot of trawling over old memories. It's a character flaw. Whenever day-to-day social dramaturgy gets slow, I mentally return to my pet miseries. Don't worry, I won't go on like this forever. Someday I'll have my therapy breakthrough, and then nothing will bother me anymore!

But until that sail-into-the-sunset moment, I am mostly okay with where I am right now. I'm muddling through. I'm trying to improve. So what else can I do? Accept the state of the present. And that's work in itself.

Return (or Not) of the Funeral Service

2008-07-27T13:08:00.000-05:00

Tuesday. Now it's Sunday. That's five days. Is this how you're going to leave me, after all this time?

One simple, casual, unrelated-to-anything question...how hard is that to answer?

Maybe I'm being like Mother Superior (jumping the gun), but.....I suppose the final cut-off has to happen some day, right?

(I never thought it would happen. Yes, I'm stupid and narcissistic and vain and selfish and needy and arrogant and a bitch for the ages, but the truth is I never thought it would happen.)

And melodramatic? I can't do this. I can't do this.

Nooooooooooooo.......

it's over

2008-07-14T08:11:00.000-05:00

And I'm okay. For now, I'm okay.

2008-07-13T13:35:00.000-05:00

Days are long trenches of stress. Long trenches of which I don't ever want to reach the end.

I am afraid, I am afraid of the end.