Here it comes.
03/24/2005 09:10 a.m.
Read at your own risk. This is another infamous ramble from de Gracia's ever burbling head.



FUCK. Just fuck it all. Nothing feels right for some reason. I can't focus on anything. School is shit. I'm not even trying anymore. I'm lying about my grades and my ambitions. I don't know what the fuck I want anymore, in terms life in general. And love, love soars until I land again and then the foundation seems to feel shakey. Seems a little tipsy. As if we need little perennial explosions, like cap-gun ammo blasts, to keep us going. Like we thrive on drama. Like every now and again we start to forget what we cherish. Like it fades, goes pallid until we slap it in the face and blood comes rushing back. Is that good? The good thing is we know underneath it all that there IS blood to rush back. That that precious fluid needs only to be tapped. but that looming 5 foot 2 figure makes her reappearances every now and again in this sitcom, like some fucked up little cameo to boost ratings. What I wanna know is why the same old trick keeps on tricking the same old audience. We freeze when we smell smoke, gasp at all the mirrors. Smoke. Mirrors. Why the hell can't I heal? I feel like I need to be reminded, like that Only Heart quote, but is it really ok? and can he really understand it? But FUCK What the hell is wrong with me with school. Why can't I do anything?? I'm frozen. I can't do schoolwork for more than 15 minutes without feeling trapped, sucked into a void. Dead. I feel so fucking dead with school. theres nothing in it. It doesn't matter. I mean, yes, it matters, college, fucking scholarships, blah blah blah future, blah blah money, blah life. BUT IS THIS LIFE!? The sad thing is I don't know a fucking alternative. Here trish, you're god. How do you want things to be? And I don't know! I'm like a bloody lab rat in a maze and I can't picture anything before or after white cardboard walls and my grey fucking fur. the only sounds I hear are my own little claw scratchings and the sounds of my organs at work. Why the hell can't I focus? Then there are the people. Fuck. Fuck me.<<<(Meant to sound like "Fuck. Me.", a sarcastic "fuck you", and not like "fuck me, please.") Because everyone is thin and hollow and transparent. Tissue paper. Saran Wrap. Girls, all girls, except maybe Jen (Doe), are just mist. They evaporate. Their words do too, there ideas, their opinions- its like there never was anything there. White space in newspapers. And if their not thin they're fucked up in other ways. Blissful and naive and self serving, or maybe it's just that I don't feel like any of them care about me. At all. Which I suppose I deserve for everything I just said of them. But it's bitterness maybe. My biting the hand that never fed me in the first place. I think that's it. Their thin and wispy because I dont know them, and they dont desire to know me. They don't care. Or they're miles and miles away. One after another... they stop caring... they stop conversing. They leave and I'm left there with no one and nothing except the bitterness that finds refuge inside my fists and behind my eyes. Not Julie. Not really Jord. Definately not Barbara. Leah? Becca? Jen schaper? Who else???? One by one I'm too different or "holy" or smart or Harewood or stupid or anything else that amounts to space.
I wish Jen would come home. Get on the plane and just stay here. She gets it, and even if she doesn't shes trying to, or pointing out that its pointless. But maybe it's good that shes far away.Maybe if she wasn't, I'd lose her too.

I don't know. Just what happens when the renowned safety net breaks? When all her supports crumble, so she rips and tears. Who mends her? Who holds her hand? From past experience, there are 3 people who lend hands. One is in another province. One holds your hand, but would just as soon bite it. And then, thank god, the third rubs a kiss in and doesn't let go.

Bear with me, this is spring cleaning.