Transparent phrases
March 22, 2002 @ 1:31 p.m.
My screaming infidelities are now coming together. I have my Dashboard, thanks to M.
I have this would-be dimple on the inside of my right cheek, near my mouth. If I smile just right, I have a little baby dimple. I don't think anyone has ever seen it. No one has ever been that close.
I remember, as a child, when my friends and I used to play at the baby-sitter's. My baby-sitter had this wonderful set of plastic utopia, complete with figures, cars, houses, and so on.
When we played with them, I was always the one who wanted the mismatched chairs, the thirteen children and the one frazzled mother. I wanted the beds with no covers on them, the toys that were run-down or broken. I wanted to be poor, for some reason.
I never understood that. Never understood why.
The tangible hurt as returned, bringing with it more pain than rebelling sinuses could ever muster.
I recall the pain I felt back in the summertime, when I was losing my best friend but gaining what I thought was the rest of my life.
And I believed then that the conflict I felt in my heart would never lessen, would never change, never be able to get any worse.
Now, in what seems a whole lifetime later, I look back upon what was and ache for some of those wholly uncomplicated relationships.
The paranoia has festered, and been fed to those hungry sharks that wait in anticipation for me to become too involved.
I want something I cannot harm, that no matter what havoc I try to wreak, the situation remains unmoved. I want reaction towards purity and wholeness. Not depletion and callousness. Not vain, pretentious faces.
I scream for something that is nameless and I hear the echo taunt me. On one hand I ache for that melancholic suffering to return...on the other, I fear it.
It has been my companion for so long.
And I'm finding I can pretend less and less with people as they learn my moods more and more.
The words I used to put together have made way for transparent phrases, eagles turned into sparrows.
I ache to be the girl that I was, to begin again, to redo. A re-genesis of self.
There is so much that I would change.
To quote Ani DiFranco, I want someone to either put out for me or put me out of my misery.
Is that you?
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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