this is the only place you can't find me. 01/06/2009 02:28 a.m.
hatehatehate you.
bitchbitchbitchbitch.
manipulative and you get away with it.
play the victim.
i will NEVER play the victim again.
fuck you. and you.
i am immature. so naive.
such a drama queen. fuck.
i know who i am.
i don't like it either.
i am here because you can't see this fucking stupid outpouring of whatever is inside me. and maybe you just don't get that if i can't get this shit out, i'm going to cut it out, bleed it out, and laugh about how little progress i've made. maybe you don't see that whatever is inside me needs out and will get out in a poem or writing or singing or bleeding all over the place. it needs release. there is no storage in here. there is no locker. there is no lock. it is open and free and i will never close it again. i will hide it from you, but it will bleed out eventually.
i am sick. broken.
i think i might have forgotten to warn you.
oops.
now you're stuck being in love with a crazy bitch.
that's my fault. this is all my fault.
i could have said no.
i could have kept the fascination to myself.
i could have said no over and over when i realized what was happening.
but i didn't. because i'm a spoiled rotten child and i want what i fucking want and i wanted you.
and now i have you and maybe you want me, but i continuously fuck everything up and hurt you and let myself be hurt and this is the exact same thing that always happens. i always inject pain into a perfectly happy life, a perfectly happy relationship. i can't just let things happen, let things be. i have to pickpickpick at this fucking scab until it's bleeding. what the fuck is my obession with bleeding. what the fuck is my obsession with pain. why was i crying. you asked. i didn't fucking know. i did it to myself. i did it to her. i did it to you. it was all me and it always is all me. other people fucking with me is my fault. me fucking with them is my fault. you getting fucked with, her getting fucked with. i have brought nothing but pain to you and everyone who ever loved you. including myself.
i told you i would be done and you didn't want me to be. why. WHY. what is the point of letting me ruin everything over and over and in new different creative ways each time. you're letting me keep this up.
no. we aren't that. you're not letting me keep this up. you want me. but you want me to stop this. just like i want you, but i want you to be mine entirely. we're both asking for impossible things, hoping it might happen. but i'll always be crazy and you'll always be unavailable. we are the most disgusting masochists.
why.
again. 08/27/2008 04:16 a.m.
I always do this. and I always do this with you. I somehow convince myself that you have feelings for me. that your feelings for me are anything close to my feelings for you. I let it all go. I can't detach myself. I have no idea why. I did it with Simeon. I never felt this way. and you and I never did anything. we've never kissed. we've never even held hands. nothing. and I'm so glad of that right now. so glad. I don't know what I'd be right now if I had taken those opportunities. I'd be way more of a mess than I am now. and who knows where the fuck that would go. I'm already on the edge of puking my guts out. I hate myself for this. so much. I am such an idiot and I know it. I should have known. but I didn't. and I put myself here. put myself right here in this position to hear about this, for you to tell me and for me to want to curl up in a ball and cry until I don't have any tears left.
so that's what I'm gonna do. it's all I can do.
god, I'm pathetic.
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honestly. 02/15/2007 12:08 a.m.
honestly, I'm not prepared for any of this.
I'm not emotionally ready to see Eric moving on or to be completely ignored by him.
I'm not ready to go through all those arguments that happen when you're past seeing someone as perfect and you start realizing that you're dating a person, not an infallible embodiment of an ideal.
I'm not physically prepared to deal with a four-day long migraine.
I'm not ready to go for months without SOMETHING to do. I'm TIRED of sitting.
I'm not emotionally, mentally or physically ready to cry every day for at least a month and look like some kind of puffy-eyed... thing.
I'm not prepared to go though all of this again.
and I'm constantly worried that there's no happy ending. ever. with anyone.
Micheaux is tired of me. he must be. we keep arguing. he gets angrier than he ever used to over stuff he'd never even think twice about before. I'm paranoid about every little thing. there was a violation of trust and I can't get over it. I make everything a big deal because of it.
and I'm tired of it too.
and it's Valentine's Day. and last night we went to Walmart and got last-minute little goofy gifts. I gave him a cookie jar like his mom used to have and I put Oreos in it. he got me chocolate and a puppy. not a real one. and we laughed and hugged and it was sweet and we were happy. we go through such extremes. today he was saying he wanted out. I mean, what do I say to that? I knew he was only saying it because he was in one of those moments of pure, unrestricted anger. I told him that and he swore it was just because he was tired of me being so hot and cold with him. he's tired of my feelings. he doesn't want to deal with them. I'm a person. I have feelings. that's anyone. anyone you get close to... you're going to have to deal with those things. am I wrong?
but he's saying we're going to fix it and we'll talk when he gets back from practice. I just hope we don't start yelling again. I'm so tired of fighting. and crying. my face looks totally unlike my face. it's puffy and swollen and gross. it hasn't looked right for days, seriously.
I'm just not ready. I am currently Overwhelmed
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whatever that feeling is. 12/20/2006 05:55 a.m.
two pathetic journal entries in one day? it's so rare. a lot to think about, I guess. and no one to really stop me from thinking.
I am a fairly paranoid person. I worry about people from Micheaux's past because I know how deeply I feel for people from my past. and, apparently, that frightens me. I don't want him to feel the same way I feel. I'm a hypocrite. I always have been. I have always had this terrible double standard. he told me once that I have a part of his heart that he'll never be able to take back, that's only mine. and my reaction to that, kind and beautiful as it was for him to say at all, was, "well, I'm sure other people have similar pieces." and as soon as I said it, I knew it was true for me as well. he has a part of me that no one else does. he has been a friend to me in a way that no one else ever has been. he has loved me in a way no one else has. the part of my heart that he has is very specific to him. and other people have parts of my heart that I can never take back from them.
with this small amount of distance (in terms of time) that I have from me and Eric's relationship, I can see just how big a piece of my heart Eric has and always will have. before him, the only person that affected me in that way was Simeon. (or, technically, Koye since I've loved Koye since we became friends in 2nd grade.) and I never really took the time to think about the size of that part of me that Eric has. I didn't because... well... I never came to a place in my mind where I figured we were over. there's something lingering about me and Eric because that's just how we've always done things. we broke up and it was very definite. but what was this summer? what did it mean? why did it happen? it all just faded so quickly. looking back on it, it was one of the worst mistakes I've ever made. I should have known things would have to be all or nothing with Eric. there was no way we could endure "casual dating." we're not "casual dating" people. especially not with our history. so it only served to drag things on in my heart... even when they really were over. and I think he even knew that. he knew they were over, but I didn't. not for a very long time. and I think he probably liked that. leading me on like that. eh. maybe I overestimate his desire for revenge. but I doubt it.
but I'm always looking over my shoulder. I'm always worrying with Micheaux. I let my own mistakes ruin my way of thinking. I assume that if it's possible for me to make a mistake, people who are very similar to me (and Micheaux is in a lot of way) could very easily make the same mistake. it's hard to keep in mind that Micheaux was cheated on. he knows how terrible that feels. I honestly think he'd never do that to me. and I know what a terrible thing it is to cheat. I know I'll never do it again. I'd rather cut off my own arm. so why is there any fear?
welp, because I'm an idiot.
no. because I know myself. I know my heart is fractured and fragmented and strewn. and I know his is too. it can't be all mine. mine isn't all his. life does that. you attach yourself and make these emotional commitments with your heart and you're stuck with that. those ideas are always there. Anne and Gilbert are always there. so what do you do? flip your shit when you remember you're not the only one with some kind of stake in this person. why? why when you know there's other people that have some of you?
it's all just too much. I am currently Jaded
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parents. 12/20/2006 01:53 a.m.
the influence of parents is enough to make me not want kids. I look at my parents and I wonder how they ever lasted. they don't interact at all like people who are or were ever in love. I know how I've acted with people I love. I know how I've acted with boyfriends. we have inside jokes. we talk to each other with this certain voice. this tone. and I'm not saying we never argue. or want to be apart sometimes. or want to do stuff with other people. I'm not saying we're never in a room together for hours on end without touching. it's possible. and I'm not even saying we don't go some time without one of those serious, passionate, sexual kisses. we do. but one of the things I love about my relationships is that the person I'm with is my partner-in-crime. we might not spend every moment together, but when we get back together, we share. we lay close when we lay together. even in the middle of the night when we want our space, we might wake up for a few minutes and touch each other or move closer. my parents talk. they discuss. they laugh together at the TV. but they have no inside jokes. they so rarely make fun of each other. I don't remember the last time I saw them kiss on the lips. I haven't seen a kiss that would qualify as "passionate" for years. maybe a decade. they don't sit close together. they certainly don't touch when they sit together.
my parents make me amazingly paranoid about how my relationships might turn out.
besides that, I watch my mother when she's feeling down and it physically hurts me. I feel everything she's feeling because I've felt that way so many times myself. depression. when I told my therapist at Georgia Southern that my mother takes Zoloft, he nodded hugely. the fact that she has depression makes me so much more likely to. made that diagnosis so easy. made handing me those pills so easy. and today she was down and she was laying on the couch and you couldn't even talk to her. one word answers and her voice was shaky. and I told her she sounded down and to feel better and that she was the greatest (because, honestly, she is). and she cried. and it was that crying where your face is just leaking. you're not breathing hard or freaking out, you're just leaking. cause you're just sad. things aren't going your way.
it made me think about the article Micheaux sent me about becoming an optimist. and for the first time ever, I was angry at my mother because she was sad. I was angry at her because I know she can feel better, but she won't. or maybe she doesn't know how. either way, why isn't she trying? or is she? I don't want to assume she isn't. things aren't rosy and wonderful for her. things aren't perfect. but things are NEVER perfect for ANYONE. I know what she's doing and how she's thinking and it makes me angry because I know I think the same way she does. and why wouldn't I? she's my role model. my thoughts and feelings and behavior mirror hers. and I know that my friendship with Micheaux is teaching me how to change all the ways of thinking and feeling that I learned from her.
I have to take a moment to point out that, by all accounts, I'm a mama's girl. I've always been closer to my mother than my father. I could write a novel about the wonderful things my mother is and has taught me. she's an amazing person. she's the most generous person I know. which makes her and my father an intense combination, because he's also an extremely generous person. but there are things about my mother that make me angry. realizing that and now expressing it is odd to me. I'm not used to it. she and I have had arguments, but there's never been something about her personality that I look at and I just can't agree with. that happens with my dad constantly. but his outlook on life is so much more positive than my mother's. and what makes me so upset is that my mother's could be too if she would just make an effort to change her thinking.
I'm not saying it's just a simple thing. I'm not having an easy time doing it. I mess up almost every day trying to be better at this. I happen to have a great boyfriend who supports me in this process of trying to change my thinking. my dad would never understand this. my dad would never be able to teach my mother these things. and I don't think I could. I don't know. but I wish she would try. I wish she would make an effort to help herself.
I don't know. I might read this tomorrow and find it reads as terribly self-righteous and I might hate myself for it. but I'm just constantly struck by how deeply my parents affect my life and my outlook and how I handle things.
I just don't know. I am currently Bothered
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him again 11/10/2006 03:29 p.m.
every day that goes by, I think of something more to say. and, as I told him, I have never been good at hiding my feelings. if I'm feeling something, I am compelled to let the person I'm having feelings for know. I have trouble keeping it to myself.
it's music more than anything. or, I guess, that's what it's been lately. "Gimme the Light" was playing and I closed my eyes and I had a VERY clear picture. Hendricks, his bed made, clean countertops, his stereo, me at the desk, him ironing his shirt, one of his hats on, a wife beater, the baggy pair of jeans, two cups of 151 and my Diet Caffeine Free Pepsi, I'm putting make up on, he's singing, peppermint, getting ready for the club (when we used to go to the club). I got lost in that. songs do that. and that's just some Sean Paul. that's just a random memory with no real emotion attached. don't get me started on R&B. I can't listen to it. I cry at everything. everything gives me a picture. an intimate one.
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do with my feelings. I don't know how to shut them up, throw them away, push them down. I don't do that. that's very not me.
and yesterday Micheaux and I had a fight. I... I don't know... threatened? suggested? that I might go see Eric. and he, because he was already angry said, "you wanna go see him? you think that hurts me? it doesn't. at all. all that's going to happen is you're going to go over there and he's not going to want to see you or talk to you. he TOLD you the other day he doesn't want to talk to you anymore. the only reason I don't want you to see him is because you'll come back to me hurt and crying because he doesn't want to see you. so go ahead. it's not going to hurt me, it's only going to hurt you." things like that. and I KNOW he's right. I know he wouldn't be hurt by me going to see Eric. he's the least jealous person I've ever met. that's what Eric doesn't understand about him. he doesn't care if I call Eric. he only cares because Eric always makes me cry and hurts me and Micheaux doesn't want me to be hurt. so he wouldn't have cared. and Eric would've reacted exactly as he said. and I would have been hurt and come back crying exactly as he said. it was all so truthful. he apologized almost immediately because, well, I burst into tears as soon as he said it. but it was all true. that's why it hurt to hear.
I don't know. this moment in time is so weird. eh. I am currently Clueless
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things I can't let go of. 10/27/2006 05:08 p.m.
- "hey, Emmy girl why don't you come and go with me? and let me show you what some good loving can be cause, I got so much love inside and I just wanna give it all to you, Emmy girl, to you Emmy girl" and anything else he ever sang to me just in my ear late at night.
- Sincere and Paris... mostly because of his lips and chin.
- what his mouth does when he cries.
- Sadie, Samantha and Sierra.
- the Decatur library.
- his real eye color.
- the truth about lesbians, piercings and whatever other fad you think he's into.
I don't know. so much of it is pride for knowing the "real" him. and the reason I only cried for a few minutes last night when that song came to me is because... I'm not sure I do really know the "real" him. I thought I did. there are things I doubt now because of things he's done. I loved those songs. I loved his voice. but did he mean what he was saying? I thought so. now I'm not so sure. that's why I didn't cry all night. that's what keeps me from going to him and telling him I want to be with him again. I don't. I don't even know him. he's not real. so much of what I miss, what I still love... it's not even real. it's something he invented to win me over. and it worked. and now that I'm seeing it for what it really is, I feel so cheated. he robbed those years from me pretending to be something he's not. and I look at new people he hangs out with like I looked at Jess when she started dating Tommy. they have no idea. they can't know who he really is. he won't let them in. he wouldn't even let me in. how deep can he really feel about anyone? everything he's telling them is bs. I want to tell them that. but who I am to ruin his game? no one told me that shit.
and moving on... there was a turning point. those last few messages on facebook feel like a real turning point. I never thought I'd get that. I never thought I'd want that. but when it came, I felt really very peaceful. but I have to actively remember the bad. the good comes when I least expect it. I'm just laying in bed, watching TV and a song in his voice pops into my head. I just sing along and cry until I remember he probably just sang me that song to wrangle me. that's what it all was. a ploy to keep me in a cage. even he admitted that. and that's not love. I fooled myself into thinking that's what it was. so I'm there crying and I feel like that pain might never go away and then I realize I'm mouring something that's not even real. it was never alive to begin with. and I remember bruises and crying and fear and anger and I can't cry anymore.
what I DON'T want is to let the past affect the future. he's not letting it. and I shouldn't let it. the people in my life now don't deserve that. that's what I'm trying to avoid.
I told him I loved him one last time just so he knows. just so that's what we end on. it's so funny because my dad's been telling me for three years that love's not enough. and he meant it in terms of money because that's what his big concern is, but he was right. love isn't enough sometimes. when your whole relationship is based, not on trust, but on jealousy... love isn't enough. I know we love each other like good friends do, but it's just not enough.
and I never thought I'd say that. but it's the truth. and, you know, I guess it's done.
I am currently Jaded
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eric 09/29/2006 09:40 p.m.
you love me like this
I'm most beautiful to you
when my eyes are red
from tears you gave me
you love me most
when I am on the ground
bruised, drooling and sputtering
crying until I choke
you love me unconditionally
as long as I'm caged
trapped with you
alone and flattened by you
and you love me right now
how I need you
but you're strong enough
to push me away
you never
never
loved me. I am currently Sad
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where a poem comes from 09/02/2006 06:51 a.m.
it's just hit me. because it's 2:30 in the morning and Micheaux's asleep. we talked earlier. I even saw him earlier today. we're ok. there's nothing pressing I need to tell him. but I'm thinking about him. I can't call and wake him up, that'd be silly. I don't want to leave a message for him on facebook or myspace and look like crazy stalker girl. but I'm sitting here at 2:30 in the morning and I'm thinking about him to the point where I might burst if I don't somehow make contact with him. and I'm feeling familiar and I'm realizing that this is how I felt all through middle school and high school. flagrantly emotional but sadly detatched from those I'm feeling emotional about. so what is there left to do but write? that's why so many of my poems come out over the top. because I'm in a moment where my head is bursting with thoughts all about one person and I can't tell them about it. and really, even if he were here, the most I'd be able to do is poke him enthusiastically. cause you can't look somebody in the face and go,
"your expressive
and beautiful
(yes, you're beautiful)
face
is haunting me
searching for me
always
tattooed inside
my eyelids
and your hands
that so strongly clasp mine
even when you're sleeping
that touch me so softly
even when I'm sleeping
they're around me
though you're miles away,"
...centimeters in the case of the enthusiastic poking versus breaking out in poetry...
"perfect brows
and eyes so beautiful
(yes, your dark eyes are beautiful)
I am fainting inside
over and over
head banging against
the floor
the wall
the headboard
whatever
...that's not as suggestive as it might sound. we joke about that a lot. it's just one of those inside things you throw into a poem to pump up the emotional reaction of the subject...
you keep me guessing
you keep me hopeful
I wish you'd just keep me,"
...sorry Koye, that's a nod to you. if you can take phrases from Bjork and Tori Amos and PJ Harvey, I figure I can rework a phrase of yours...
"so come to me again
and leave me like a rainstorm,"
...if I add "would" to the end of that, it becomes obviously sexual, so let's leave that out...
"and splashing in puddles
comprised entirely of
those tiny beads of sweat
that sometimes form
directly on your temples
because if I can't have the whole
I just want pieces of you
to tide me over."
I mean. because. how does someone react to that? I know the exact face Micheaux would make and it'd make me feel like a complete doofus. even if he wouldn't mean it like that. it still would. and who wouldn't breaking into verse like this is some kind of musical?
but you know what? I think he'd still kinda like it.
