2002
January 03, 2002 @ 6:57 p.m.
I'm very ready to go home but am not ready for all the same bullshit to occur. Being second fiddle, third wheel; the strange blonde who laughs a little too hard and tries a little too loudly. (No, I'm not dyslexic; I wrote that the way it reads on purpose.) Looking like a freak around Matt and acting like one around Sean.
I know Sean is just polite when I am around. I know he knows how I feel about him, and I also know he finds it pathetic. It's so strange, though. After practicing a lifetime of being nonchalant, I am anything but around him. I act like a certified retard and I'm not exactly sure why.
I feel this way less around Matt, but I think it's the whole persona of the DJ, of needing to impress these people who seem so cool in your mind. And honestly, Sean and Matt are some of the most interesting people I have ever met. But why am I such a loser that I need their respect to feel whole? It's an addiction.
And the sickest part of it being like an addiction is that you're only satisfied with that much for so long. After awhile, the fix disappears, and you need more. After awhie, his face disappears, and you need to see him again. I hate it, I hate it desperately, because it rules me. Rules me and ruins me. It started with having to prove myself to my father and now I think I must prove myself to everyone. Those whom accept me too easily are pushed aside, and those who don't care are pursued. Those who don't care either way are the ones that crawl under my skin, because making them care either way is an impossible task. Love me, hate me, but if you ignore me...that is the worst feeling in the world to me, being ignored.
And yes, that stems also from my childhood. I wasn't the troublemaker (because I hated being disciplined) and so in essence I was pushed aside so that something more interesting could be watched more closely. That's why I tried to perfect myself in so many ways -- to prove my worth, to show that I could earn their attention in positive ways. My only problem was that I was fighting the wrong battle all my life; they didn't care what I could achieve.
And so that's when I began to change.
I began to write poetry, to explore those tendencies within me that had been lurking, aching to spill out for such a long while. I wrote because it wasn't happy, wasn't what mother and father expected. I rebelled on paper, screamed and shouted and ripped my hair out through ink. I could breathe again this way.
I closed up emotionally and denied access to all those who said they could understand my poetry because they knew me well enough anyway. Those who read my poetry are seeing the raw of me, the part that still screams primitive. And the more I let you read, the more I trust you. No one has ever read everything I've written. Why? Well, no one's ever asked, simply enough.
So I suppose I still write to get the demons out -- I don't suppose that will ever change. But there are other reasons. I write to find myself and to understand myself more completely. I write because nothing in the world seems more natural. I write because there's an old melancholy soul in me that yearns to tell her stories and I am simply the vehicle to her expeditions. I write because I can't scream, although the proper note and decibel are perched upon my tongue.
And so I write so that I may live sanely...for the other option's just not as promising.
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- - March 22, 2010
always the same - July 01, 2008
b-a-n-a-n-a-s! - December 25, 2006
elementary again - October 29, 2006
I don't like you, but I love you - October 03, 2006