I guess I knew love would tear him apart. It fucking tore me apart. Tonight, to be specific. The love of my life--the only real and true lover I've ever known so graciously and with unmatched nonchalantness provided me with the knowledge that he doesn't care about me or us anymore. And that I'm ridiculous. He says he doesn't love me, and that I'm a stupid bitch as well. I am fuckin destroyed. He totally had me. Like, in the palm of his hand. I fear he used me. And he could totally have me again--I just don't know, and at this moment I kinda doubt--that he even wants me anymore. I guess I don't deserve it--a person like me just doesn't deserve love. It's hard to face the truth. Love is the only thing I've ever wanted, and the only thing that's managed to elude me every goddamned motherfuckin time. Shit! Love is the only reason to live--the only reason I want to live. Although after tonight, I cannot deny that I am without that which is so vital to my very existence. Love. But he said he doesn't even care. So the verdict is in: I actualy am completely unloveable, just as myself and I have suspected for years. It's never going to happpen even if I do give the most unbelieveable blow jobs in the entire world (and I do.) It's becoming clearer that the only solution is the final solution. And that sucks. When reality sets competely in and sets up housekeeping etc. upstairs, a lonely girl realizes that sometimes our dreams just don't/aren't/never come true. And they told me "fuck you lady!" while they disappeared. But that's about right for me these days, I guess. Life's a bitch, ain't it?? How bout a little Radiohead, eh?
When you were here before Couldn't look you in the eye You're just like an angel Your skin makes me cry You float like a feather In a beautiful world And I wish I was special Youre so fuckin special But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I dont belong here. I dont care if it hurts I want to have control I want a perfect body I want a perfect soul I want you to notice When I'm not around Youre so fuckin special I wish I was special But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I dont belong here. Whatever makes you happy Whatever you want You're so fuckin special I wish I was special... But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo, What the hell am I doing here? I dont belong here. I dont belong here.
I don't know what I am going to do. I'm in too deep and it's all falling apart. I've been bawling for the past hour or so and I'm not even sure why. Yes I am. Because I can't get away from it. This most hated of addictions follows me like the eyes of a marble statue--gazing lovingly into my face without a hint of real emotion--only that which kills emotion. Why does it all hurt so badly?? The shame and the embarrassment, the shame and the sorrow, the shame and, did I mention, the fucking shame?? I wish I were that marble statue; I just don't want to feel anymore. No more good, no more bad, no nothing. Then maybe, just maybe, when I can't feel anything at all, I will finally be saded, and if I'm lucky, some version of content. Until then I'm going to cry some more and lament what was and what should have been whilst I weep for what is and what should never be.
Once I had these grandiose visions of what my new life would be--and granted, it is quite different than what it was, however similar--but I'm learning the long (not to mention hard) way that romanticism is the way of the fool. I, unfortunately, am that fool. He says he wants to marry me, and he is serious. I am very sincerely taken aback. I darenot say anything at all, lest I say too much. Times are hard. I'm preparing for times to be only harder. I don't know if we'll make it. Sometimes I don't know if I'll make it. But I know I must. For I am The Romantic--I mean The Fool--and as such, I will forever thrive on change and that which hurts the most.
Anchormen spike their blood Wear masks of mud-- Cucumbers cut to fit their eyes. So no one would know How tired they've grown Of talking and telling their lies. While your TVs change stations, Scroll messages Victims and Christians both drinking blood... They'll pray for the destruction of all hatred-- More often-- Just those with hate for us. Cause it hurts when you discover one's worse and one's better To suffer, or cause others to And you can live by your conscience-- Now guilt is a concept you're no longer subscribing to.
There's a virgin in my bed And she's taking off her dress... And I'm not sure what I am gonna do. There's a song stuck in my head And I can't help singing it-- Oh how I hope my singing pleases you... Cause this is not who I've become But what you make me into.
Oh, we got no health insurance No cellular service No disease they can't cure... But we need more money to burn So each person must learn The dollar amount they are worth. And those pills make me dizzy Forgetting my body I watch as it walks away... But I just keep drinking the poison And smoking the cartons, A pack and a half a day.
So when time comes to claim me My friends and my family will gather around my grave... They'll believe that they knew me And love me and miss me And all call me by my name.
So imagine what you want And then hold on to that thought. Cause that's as close as it will ever come... And believe you're where you are Keep acting out the part-- But at the end of the day, the trees all get wheeled away... And you'll be standing alone in a blank, blank space.
So believe you're who you are, And stay in character... But at the end of the play, the audience walks away. And I'll be shivering cold on a well-lit stage.
I am home. As in home-town. It's cold and it's raining and there's nothing homey about any of it. The entire place has changed in the past--jesus christ--almost 7 years. Seven years I've been gone, and back, and gone again. I don't know that I belong here anymore. I'm unsure where I belong really. I have a home in Austin. Right now that's the only place I want to be. In Austin with Austin. Regardless, here I sit with three coats on because the fucking heater broke. Yes. It gets cold in Texas once a year and that one time is the time our heater decides to stop heating. I had to take a klonopin because I was on the verge of a panic attack earlier. Packing and the idea of flying home tomorrow irks me. My flight here was a nightmare. It was rainy and shitty outside and my flight was delayed, unbeknownst to me. This would have saved me lots of stress and panicking--throwing things in bags and busting ass to the airport. I had planned to carry everything on the plane to make it easier. But those were the good old days apparently. I knew I'd have to take off my shoes but I honestly didn't realize that the TSA would escort me out because I had a bottle of hairspray. So I threw it away and made it through security to find out about my delayed flight. So I go back out, get my shit out of the trash, put it in my bag, and check it. Cool. I still have my other bag, with the shit I really need. Except this time I don't make it through security somehow, and they DID escort me out, because apparently I look like I wanna blow up a plane with a bottle of perfume. Man I just want to go to Christmas with my family. Fuck. I couldn't help but let them have it. So I go check my other bag with ten minutes to departure, and make it back through security, thrice, JUST in time to board my flight. Turbulence the entire way, and I still haven't eaten. So I get to Houston but my bags do not. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Instead they got put on the next plane from Austin to Houston because apparently Christmas packages have to be checked by the TSA. I am like what the fuck is going on in America these days? The whole world has gone crazy. I finally make it to Christmas like 4 hours late and proceed to get drunk enough on Merlot to argue politics with my dad. Ha. That's when you just don't care anymore. So I am now traumatized, and I do not want to have anything to do with the fucking airport tomorrow when I go home, although that's the only way I'll be getting there, and it's the only place I wanna be. Thank god he'll be waiting there for me. Christmas was pretty cool, I got everything I wanted so I can't complain. I have a bad habit of doing so anyway. Right now I am nervous because in a few hours I'm supposed to have drinks with two old friends I haven't seen in years, and I don't know if I still know who they are. These were my sisters you see; but they left me at a crucial point--and I hate to say it but I believe that was the beginning of my downfall. I try not to blame them for not wanting to get sucked into the downward spiral I was most certainly in, but it hurt. I didn't realize until today how much it still hurt. I desperately want to be friends again, but there is so much history that I am just not a part of that scares the hell out of me. I feel ganged up on. I thought it was just gonna be Erin. What if they don't want me now just like they didn't want me then?? I know if that were true they wouldn't have called me this morning. But I'm scared nonetheless. Why is it that when I'm scared I just want to sleep? If I could get under the covers with my Bear forever I think that'd be okay with me, though that just won't do. If I'm going to live my life, I'm going to have to confront it. So being "home" has been a huge disappointment. All the friends I had before are gone. And I had lots of friends. No one answers their phone for me. They don't know me anymore. Truth is, I don't know them anymore either. I'm just so goddamned lonely. But we are going to the bar tonight. It is Christmas Evening. Everyone should be in town at their parents' and ready to get the hell out of the damned house. People I haven't seen in years. Ex-friends. Ex-boyfriends. I've been so concerned about Erin that I just realized there's a great possibility that I will run into Joey, or worse, Gingerfish with his new fiancee. Man fuck that. I bet I'm prettier than her. That's what counts, right??
