I use to laugh freely with people who would wave to me when I saw them on the street. I returned their expressions through a painted on face. I just went along with the whole facade, and we all played our pathetic parts, like a bad soap opera, or a cheap movieline. I thrived on the falsities, and the comfort of knowing that come friday night, there would be a place for me in that circle of bacchanal lushes, and men who just couldn't keep their hands to themselves.

Now, I am passed on the street without those pseudo gestures, or even so much as a glance in my direction. I watch myself through a two-way mirror, and I have stopped acting.. taking on those bad movie roles, and started instead, to breathe. - to breathe through unclenched lungs. as an alternative to large crowds, I find myself only wanting to talk to two people, my best friend.. and him. I block everyone else out, cutting off their circulation, only observing them unconsciously from a distance. I spend my friday nights laying on my kitchen floor, smoking cheap cigarettes and singing along with whatever is on the radio. I smile as the black fills my lungs, and I am often reminded of a boy whom I once loved.. a boy who thought that smoking was repulsive and unlady-like. I remember quiting for him, but I also remember slipping away to inhale what he detested, then denying smelling like ashes as he burried his head, hands, and fingers in my hair. I always blamed it on friends, family, ..the parties he'd drag me to..

I walk by myself at night now, taking in the sky as the cold air presses against my swishing legs, I inhale the brittle atmosphere, mixing smoke with winter. I still choke on my sobs at night, but they're quieter now, and much more controled. I entertain thoughts of calling you up just to say hello.. ask how you are.. if you miss me as much as I miss you. but my tenacious way of always having the upperhand gets the better of me, and I place the phone back into it's cradled receiver, sighing as I watch the birds fluttering at my window.

I'm starting to see just how displaced from this world I really am, and it scares me just how transparent I've become to a fake society of frigid liveforms that mill around this broken city like puppets dangling from tethered heart strings. I watch cars passing, I watch time slipping, and I watch everybody dying as I find myself wondering if they also know that every breath they unconsciously take, it brings them inevitably closer to white flowers at funerals of coffin upon coffin of idleness, silently holding the graveyards hostage.

I can stand upright upon my own two feet, fending off any who might cause me harm.. all I need now is somebody to save me from love, for I can only handle my enemies.

12/14/2003

Author's Note: Yeah...

Posted on 12/14/2003
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