Saturday, December 31, 2005

Things to Remember

Goodbye will not be easy.

tears cannot be avoided.

pain is inevitable.

please god. please help me. please stop this.

Dear friend, you are not comforting. you are not consoling. You are condescending. You say "oh your pain. your silly pain. been there. done that. you silly girl with your silly tears."

Please let me find my voice. please let me scream this away. please let me be loud in everything but this ache.

No work. no school. no reason to leave bed. I don't know what to do. i have nothign to do. i'm on the verge of begging you to stay.

I would say, " PLease hold me. please never let me go. please make this stop. don't leave me. don't leave me. Don't make us do this. I need you. please don't leave me. "

I'd get on my knees and pull you down with me. I would whisper and scream and cry. I wouldn't want to let you go.

But you have to. you have to.

And i'm sorry for never being enough.

Monday, December 26, 2005

Christmas Inventory:

2 heart necklace
1 ring
1 cd player
2 sweaters
3 tank tops
1 blanket
2 gift certificates
and about... 90 bucks?

Monday, December 19, 2005

Wanna be the Bastard of Yourself

Here's a sweet little story.

There was once a little girl. her mother was molested. It was her future child by twenty years fault.

There one was a little girl. Her sister was molested. It was her future sister by ten years fault.

There was once a family that always fought like monsters eating one another's hearts. No one walked away whole.

The only one that remained untouched and ignored was this little girl. All of this was her fault.

They left her one by one. away from everythign that was so terrible. they left her alone to take it all on herself.

at night she would think: "it's all my fault. it's all my fault. they don't love me because they can't save me. they can't save me because i'm terrbile." and she never cried.

At night there was darkness and things she never understood. like a mommy being raped and feeling the bed shake with it. like porn on a tv and feeling the bed shake with it.

never touched. ignored. all her fault. all her fault.

well she's crying now. you're all yelling now. no one will see how much she's carried. no one will see how much she doesn't want to.

she bleeds the blame away in porcelin bathtub and creamy marble and dreams of grey smoggy cities.

She wants away now. wants to leave now. they're happy now. happy without her now.

Alone. alone. she's always alone. She wants to leave here, be alone on her own terms. alone where their anger can't touch her.

Moved cars and broken windshields. cut hair in unnoticable places. fuck. dick. bastard. dirty words in songs and she's crying while he's eating and why is he leaving her. the only one who's cared is leaving her.

She doesn't care now. doesn't care now. doesn't want to be loved now. doesn't want to love now.

dull scissors. dirty laundry. pink trees and lit wreaths.

Can you save her now? is she worth it now?

Sunday, December 18, 2005

You can be my Constant and I'll never Give you Up

I saw your ankles. You act like i wouldn't. act like i wouldn't care.

We all know me. It's impossible for me not to care. even about those that deserve it the least.

But you, you're one of the few i've ever... god, i can't even degrade it down to a word. You're a part of me, damnit. I need you as a reminder of who i am. I need you in a thousand ways.

No, i'll admit it openly, you're not alot of things i've maybe needed. Something or someone that could be warm and forgiving.

BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER.

I love you. It's pointless. it's hard. it's completely useless. But i do.

I saw your fucking ankles.

And the sad part is... I'm not mad. I'm not even dissapointed. I understand. I understand.

The only thing is... I wish i could have ever been enough to make you happy. I love you. and that won't ever be enough.




And she thought to herself "maybe if no one see then it doesn't derserve to be seen."

She's Done.

She's done this before. Closed you off before.

Here now, she'll do it again. fail in a week or two.

You're never there. she's always waiting. She needs no one. She needs no one.

Long weekend house bound with no car and no friends.

Tired. They're so sweet. So sweet.

There was a movie where she ate too much opium and her death was somewhat beautiful. She has few moments where she wishes for things like that.

One of them is now.

Passing Thoughts

I listen to his bones creak.

Avoid the mirror.

Shiver on the floor. get up.

Call the world your love. Love nothing.

She told you not to feel anymore. feel nothing anymore.

Wishes. Broken things.

Too much waiting and you always leave.

Emotional breakdown. Screaming in the dark.

There used to be a little girl listening at her doorway wishing she could stop the tears. Curled up, afraid, wanting nothing more than to comfort you.

The music was too loud and she realized how easy it was to forget.

Some need to forget. Some need to remember. Golconda, the city of gold and awakening. The city where i was born.

The rain is too loud. I can't think any more.

Her hair is curled. the pretty dress retired. You'll never see her.

"Best quality heart." not here. only breathing hurts.

Freeze. shut down. Move over. Restart. Erased.

Saturday, December 17, 2005

Don't Look At Enemy Myspaces

On attempt to keep my blog more shallow than it has been: here's a big complaint.

I hate People. I hate half moon bay. I hate people who think they know me yet have NEVER even had a conversation with me.

I know we all make judgements the moment we meet someone. but it's called a little leeway. Ya know, when you meet someone and they turn out to be completely different than originally expected. and being ok with that.

Here's my vain moment of the night: Yea, so i might be pretty. yea, so i'm skinny. And yea, I am a lot more mature than some people.

Does that mean i'm really any of those? no. relative, absolutely not.

But relative to you? fuck yea.

I don't know you. I've never talked to you. You'll never read this. And you'll never ever be better than me. You're halfmoonbay at it's worst. Your fat. your blond. your stupid beyond belief. your ugly. your mean. and let me tell you something... I may not be good but you? you SUCK at writing. It's a game called "maybe you should advance your brain level past seventh grade."

I don't care if this is me stooping down to your level. I hate you. I hate you for being such a bitch to me. I hate you for talking shit about me when i've NEVER done even the slightest wrong towards you. I'm a big enough person to take it when i deserve it.

Robbie hates me and talks shit. Most of her feelings were justified and i'm not butt hurt. Tiffany probably talked her fair share of shit but i deserved it. I'm willing to take a beating when i've been wrong.

But you? i'm one hundred percent sure i've NEVER done anything to you. We've had maybe one or two common friends. all of whom i've never been awful to. And the only interactions we've ever had were ones of polite happiness and civility. Hell, i bet i've never even been cold to you.

And i know people don't understand why i let shit like this bother me... but i do.

You're going around telling people that i'm fake. That i think i'm too good for everyone. Hell, you probably tell people i'm a slut too. Why? i have no idea.

but here's an idea, and here's how low i'm going to stoop: I hope you stay in this small town and in this small mentality forever. I hope you get to fuck, have babies with, and then be left by some big dream drop out football player that you've known since kindergarten. And no, that's not cute and sweet and romantic. It's pathetic. I hope you never accomplish anything you've ever hoped for. I hope your children hate you. I hope you live with your mother until she dies. And then you'll be sad and alone and have no one but all your other fat white friends to hold you. Oh, and another thing... Everyone knows you're a dyke. And not even the good kind. Just the fat ugly on the inside kind. The kind that you want to throw down onto cement and break their jaws open. I hope you never lose weight. have to live a really long time. I hope you're never happy. I hope you're always drowning. I hope that you and everyone like you gets buried in all the mistakes you've made.

But most of all, I hope i'm never like you.

Friday, December 16, 2005

Party Days to Party Nights

So it's 3:30 in the morning and i finally get to bed. Wanna hear a good story?

Adolfo and I go clubbing. The crib. good times or whatever. They've got this lit floor which is amusing all of 5 seconds. And i can't seem to figure out if i've been to the club before but it was slightly remodeled or if it's a diffferent club entirely.

Either way, We're dancing and it's great. shaky start but in like two seconds we're both having fun.

And note to any guy that wants to dance with a girl: Don't do that whoel creepy "i'm gonna come from behind. just rub myself against her ass and expect her to respond" thing. Like i said. It's creepy and ugly. And the gross factor grows exponentially if you've got a RAGING boner and the beat isn't fast enough so you're rubbing your nice hard on slowly against her ass with the thought of "yea? you like that. you want that. oh yea." Yea. bad bad bad idea. Wanna dance with her? here's an idea... Look around first. Is she dancing with anyone? does it look like a significant other? no? good. Then make eye contact. smile. that's always good. don't give a skeevy look like you might eat her. Just smile a normal one. And then approach. Dance a little. IN THE FRONT! if she seems to like you, seems to want it, or turns around herself, don't try it. Its gross and lame. And that's the end of my rant.

So we leave at around 1:45 cause being the fatty i am i was STARVED to death.

I'll take this time out to describe what i'm wearing. It's a baby blue long sleeve "knit top." that means it's like a thin thermal. And it buttons part ways up the front. And along the really really really low neckline are shiny glittering things. And so i leave it unbuttoned completely exposing my black lacy bra. I have on jeans, black tennis shoes, and a black ribbon lace choker. Sexy, right? Equpied for cold? maybe not so much...

Well, we go outside and lo and behold we have QUITE the surprise waiting for us. My windshield is smashed. completely shattered. It doesn't go all the way through so much as it was extremely pushed in and the whole thing spidered out. It's a very nice, clean, almost pretty smash. Dirt/footprints on the hood. Cute, really.

Isn't that fun? But nothing was stolen so i can be really happy about that. Especially that my car wasn't stolen itself. that'd be pretty crappy.

So we called the police to report it but they said they didn't care. OK, maybe not in so many words but that smashed windshields happen so often that they're not gonna send anyone out but if we wanted to report it that badly we can go to the station.

Yea, get there in my non visible windshield. Logical.

So the next calls belong to, in this order, AAA (I think it's funner to say triple A rather than AAA when typing), My sister, and Adam.

Tow truck comes. Adam comes. Hurrah. I love my boyfriend he saved me and is wonderful and awesome and not just cause he left his house at 2 in the morning but because he just is. and he bought my present today. And he never complains that i'm awful almost half the time. But that's another story!

So i get home at 2:30. and come here to talk about it. exciting, i know. I'm still absolutely famished. I have no car for who kknows how longs.

Summation of the night: a lot of fun clubbing. last final was this afternoon. Am mega mega mega tired. whole body sore from too much dancing. car fucked. tow truck adventures. Adolfo rocks times 3. and adam times 4. I suck times 5.

MWAH!

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Savage Seduction

With straight hair, dark eyes and lace along her breasts she'll seduce you. Purr in your ear, rub along your legs, your body. The sweet smell of her will drift into your system until she's all you breathe, until you can't breathe any longer. She'll make you jealous, drive you wild, make you crazy. For her.

With diamonds in her eyes, in her hair (on her fingers, around her neck) you'll die for her. She'll slip her hands beneath your layers, pull you out. Make you feel heaven. For once. For always. Her lips are full and red and she'll place them on your neck. Behind your ear. Slipping out sighs and sweet melody moans. Down your chest. Down your hips. To your lips again. You won't be able to contain yourself.

And then we can call it love. Then we can call it loud music and crowded places and secret smiles the whole world can see.

Then we can call it dancing.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Silent Mornings In SunRise

On tiptoes she is silent making her way across cream colored marble and white colored walls. There’s a humming of warmth through the empty rooms and torn apart hallway. The cracks on the ground hurt her feet like cobblestones of streets. The windows are dark, the world invisible. Something within whispers “leave here. Leave now. Or else this home may be the end of you.”

Monday, December 12, 2005

And she said to her:

I know this was my fault. I know you're right. I know that i can only blame myself for this. But sometimes, just sometimes, when the load is too heavy to bear and i can only shoulder so much of the weight am i allowed a moment? A moment where i can let it down and say 'hey, maybe this wasn't just me.' and for you to say 'that's ok. i know, honey. maybe it's not all your fault.'

And in turn she said to him:

Maybe i'll never be able to forgive.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

She's sick of this. Sick of this. Sick of knowing what it must be like to be one of them. A wife so bored and lonely and complacent. So content with being all of that.

I'm no longer happy with who i am or where i am. I'm sick of waiting and being alone and letting you be my entire life. I'm sick of trying to hint this to you. Here it is: You work too much. It takes priority over everything. no matter what you say.

I am not your wife. You don't have to act like my husband. Go ahead, throw me away for a couple extra bucks that we both know you don't need. I'm not tied to you anymore. I won't be yours. I won't wait around.

We don't live movie lives. You'll never come down the stairs with a rose and a suit and sweet words to win me over. You'll never master big gestures and you'll never know what i need as proof for you.

I've said it before and i'll say it a thousand times: "there's a lot to be said about love and hope."

Well i've been loving and i've been hoping. I've been waiting for wedding rings and pretty songs and painted pictures and a new sort of intimacy. But we can't afford to give those thigns away. Don't even have the time.

Shh, Honey. Don't Cry Anymore.

She no longer writes. It would only be of him. She sleeps accompanied by nightmares of new lovers, their sordid fantasies. Each morning she picks up the phone and begins to weep. This is weakness. This is strength.

Last night a man with the name of an ex lover and a walk to shame a model passed by windowsills with blood soaked hands. She crawled on her knees, afraid for her life, and she thought to herself “live on your knees pretty. Live on your knees because your love is gone.”

He says "I promise. I can be your everything. I can be your rock. Call me, i'm yours. I'm there." And then he never came. She never asked him to.

Saturday, December 03, 2005

She's laughing so hard she's really only screaming. With tears falling down her face and everyone around just stares. Family members with wide eyes and stories of her insanity. This is her insanity. let's make a spectacle, charge a dollar a head just to see. Come see her. The girl who moments ago was sneaking chocolate cake and twirling on deck ledges, glass pressed upon her legs. Cake and smiles in hand, pulled from reserve. Pulled from secret glowing lakes in the depth of underground caves.

Come see her now while she's wrapped around the finger of sad eyed poetry and her heart starts to feel that familiar ache. That old friend to hide her from failure. From Success. These are a different kind of tears. She says "Will you take me? will you have me?" and she's serious. She doesn't want this anymore. Doesn't want herself anymore. She's so sick of masks. She's so sick of duality.

A red ribbon round her neck, black hair still wet and fragrant. She wants you to hold her. Put your arms around. rock her back and forth. comfort her like a child. that is what she wants. to be rocked. slowly. sweetly. While the tears fall down.

Why can't you be happy, she wants to ask. She hears her name, foreign and strange and only discovered the night before. She hides. She sighs.

Here's a smile for you, here's a bond for you, the half of her that never could. There have been few things in her life: Family, Self, Adam and you.

Keep it together. keep it together. There's too many people for fall apart now. too many watchers, viewers. Too many with coins in their pockets and hands that don't know the beginning of anything. She feels their hidden sadness, runs away to be alone with hers. Her own bearable kind. She can't breathe. She sweats and shivers.

She almost wants a baby. Something small. only her own. To coo to. To weep to. Someone to whisper secrets to. someone to love her and hate her for it. Something to keep and hold close at times like this. You're never here for times like this.

She tells everyone of shared christmas and nobody cares. They don't care that she's lying. There are muscles inside of her contracting and releasing, and it's painful. She wants to vomit. wants to scream. Wants to roll into herself. wants to cut it out of herself. She shakes and no one notices, it's the normal kind.

She shuts the bathroom door and does. Not of choice, she just feels awful. A dead chance at life and too much food mixing inside of her. it poisons her body.

A girl upstairs putting on shows and everyone laughs. It reminds her of stories she's read with different kinds of girls up different kids of stairs. with different kinds of dances and different kinds of expectations.

---

a different story now:

Something inside of you makes her weep. Loves you enough to feel your pain. Reads enough to know you're the better writer, isn't jealous but is embaressed to know you read enough to know it too. Inside of her, deep deep inside of her she knows you're more than beautiful and hopes the whole world can see it too. She wants to give you book deals and popularity and a thousand things to make you prosperous. Famous. or whatever it would take to make you happy. That's all she wishes, all she hopes. And that's completely honest. completely honest.

What makes her Cum, What Makes her stay?

She finds brutality in these pages. Hard words not woven or weaved. Simply thrown. Like real words they hit and punch and slap. It's ugly. She doesn't want to go on any longer.

All The books are about a certain animal violence.

It's not what she wants. not what she wants.

With eyes still closed more than half a sleep she begins to run her hands down. Warm and happy they touch each other beneath blankets and mumbled secrets. Dirty secrets whispered into open mouths. This is how she loves him. This is how she loves him. Still sleeping she kisses his neck. shoulder. chest. hips. the valley inbetween. Thighs. Hands. arms. Back down again. She breathes him in. Loves him. She sighs as if with tears and holds him closer. pulls him closer. This is how he loves her. This is how he loves her. There is nothing carnal about this. nothing mean.

And this is where their lives begin. Where their lives end. This is where horizon meets emptiness. Meets nothing. Swallowing light. Blackness. This is where they end.

Later at night, alone, in the cold and in the dark and in a sky too full of stars she shivers with a sob. This is where they end. When hasn't he been breaking her heart? Falling in love was breaking nonetheless. She's talking to herself, as if you were there, this is what she says:

"I never thought you'd live our dream alone. I never thought i would have to be happy to see you go. I never thought you'd be the stronger one. I never thought i could be this selfish. I never thought I could be strong enough to hold back from begging you." She's never even asked. But here, with no one to hear her and no one to see her she begins. She screams:

" Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me. Please don't go. Don't go. Don't leave me. I need you. I need you. Please, if you've ever loved me, don't leave me. Not like this. Not ever. Please. Please."

She's worked so hard to escape this vacuum and in the process has seen everyone but herself life their lives in different places. She wants to say that everyone has always left her. Physically or otherwise. Always left her.

And some never win her back. Take that as a warning, some never win her back. they never win her back.

(what a lie. What a weakling. This one, she's weak. They always win her back.)