The Ramblings

I show you everything that is not in a typical jounaling format. You'll probably be able to guess who/what inspired me to write such entries. I'll list them as "From entry #X" then post the whole thing (minus sigs, of course).


From Entry #16:

NikNik and Ashley......
I want them together.
She hasn't had anyone in a long while....
and he's never had anyone.

It feels weird to sleep sometimes, as my dreams lead me to some terrible places.

But not last night. I felt no love but instead found sexual chemistry. The guy and I had no interest....or @ least that's how it seemed....

Then he necked me, and I didn't want him to leave.
He was able tear himself away, but after that, I could tell he ddid not love his girlfriend anymore.

Alas, I don't have that power. Love and sex are beyond me now...

From Entry #22"

Love can only
flourish when two people will see
the truth in the other without being afraid
of what the consequences might be, for neither one has a clue
what could happen.

From Entry #28:

Have any idea what's it like to be free?

I do.

I've felt it when I have a job, when I have money, when I could possibly treat all my friends to dinner at Ruby Tuesday's.

I feel it's serenity every time I party.

I 2 PARTY.



I feel free when I hear "Variations on a Korean Folk Song". I miss ya, Chance. You were taken from this earth too soon. You deserved to stay around longer, to see your most favorite pieces celebrate anniversaries, to dazzle us further with your music, to offer explanations for why today's shit-music is as popular as it is.





I felt free when G.W. Bush said he wouldn't allow gay marriages to become federally permissable. I jumped around like a fool out of happiness. I normally don't like the bastard, but he liberated me in an unusual way, assuring me that nothing bad could/would happen as long as gays couldn't be legally married.

I'm ready to go face some demons.

From Entry #37:

I am woman. I cake bake you a cake and slice your nuts off.
I have no qualms about doing either one, and I am fearless.
That you must remember about me.
This is just an excerpt.


From Entry #38;

Oh, how you won't leave me.
You're always on my mind.
Will you ever go away?
No, because you are where you belong.
I'm just meandering, and then I found you.
You're a siren to me.
I'm drawn in.
I wish you'd just leave me.
I can't afford to leave.
Please, just leave me.
That way, I can say...
the words I so desperately want to say

From Entry #45:

Damnit! I'm pissed off. All this hate, all this pain, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I feel like fucking shit. I'm about to go psycho. That motherfucker of an ex-boyfriend has really fucked me over on this one. Damn you, Jonathan! Damn you! Damn you to heaven where you don't want to be. Hell is mine, and you're not allowed in you heartbreaking, callous as fuck son of a bitch! You heartless, twisted fuck. I just LOVE how you've tossed me aside not giving a rat's ass how I might feel about it. You can say that I've hurt you worse all you want, but that is irrelevant when it comes down to it; we're hurt. We're fucking hurt. Seeking revenge doesn't make a damn bit of difference, as it just perpetuates the hurt on bith sides. Are you REALLY sure that you're okay with what seeking revenge can bring? It'll hurt you like you want to hurt me. That's what'll happen. Is that what you want? Do you really want to lose someone that gets your jokes, knows your past, and helped to give you the life you have now? Do you REALLY want to hate me forever? Do you REALLY want to break my resolve? Do you want me to snap? Do you have any fucking clue what you want? Hell, have you given it any thought? THINK about it for a change instead of lapsing into denial and pursuing midgets to boost your social life. Ooh, look at me! I'm Jon Watkins! I used to fuck a senior saxophonist, but now I'm fucking one of the drum majors. This hobbit is MUUUCH better in the sack. WELL, YOU MAY AS WELL FORGET ABOUT CIVILITY FROM ME! Hell, I think you've forgotten civility for yourself. You obviously have no couth, no fucking couth at all. Well, fuck that! I should just literally sic Brock on your ass and let him ride you until the sunrise of the first day in 2032. THEN you tell me who's better. Oh, Brock! Broccoli! He can hit on you all he wants. In fact I'll be lurking, egging him on.

If you only knew, Jonathan, of the power of regret......

If you, dear reader, knew what I knew, you'd ask how the fuck I made it out alive.

I made it out because God has decided I still have an inmportant duty to fill, one not necessarily of religious origin.

From Entry #47:

You can upset me by saying it's over, but it doesn't hurt to the point I want blood.

To hurt me that bad, you gotta lie to me.

Jon did both. He cut me loose and then LIED. I don't like being lied to. All my life people have lied to me. You, Jonathan Scott Watkins, betrayed me. You hurt me like no one else has.

I hope to fucking God you pay fpr the hell you brought upon me w/your body and soul. I hope they're ravaged beyond salvation.

Forgiveness from me? Only if you are willing to admit you fucked up and lied not just to me, but to your mother, your friends, and yourself. You broke so many fuckin' promises I really shouldn't forgive you, but if karma teaches you the lessons you need to learn (and you learn them very well), I might. But trusting you will never happen again.

I fucking hate being lied to. I. fucking. hate. it.


From Entry #54:

Will you remember me for all I've done?
Give me a sign. Show me the way.
Have you been rendered as bitter as me?
Let me know. Show me a path?

I feel unwelcome in your presence, like a scorpion at a wedding.
My tender explanations stumble off my tongue.
I wish I knew what to do when I can't fall asleep,
and you're the one that does it to me.

From Entry #64:

Can't sleep.
I'm wondering about shit.
Wondering if Jon misses me
and how I can make my team win this team prompt.
I can't sleep.
So much shit in my mind...
I can't stand it!
Life can suck sometimes,
but for now it feels...weird.
I miss my friends.
I miss the old days.
For some things...
I want my old life back.

Goddamnit

From Entry #71:

I'm an unusual person.

For me, fear and joy can coincide. I'll be driving along listening to Molly on the Shore and along come fire trucks, headed in the same direction I'm going. I automatically assume my house is on fire.

My dream last night brought about a wonderful release, but my mother's words "You haven't moved on." continue to make the wound sting. Interestingly, the sting's truly not as bad as it has been.

All my troubles seem to go away if I can just talk to a friend for a few minutes, like visitng NikNik @ work. WHen I can talk to someone, it's suddenly not so bad.

What will tomorrow's holiday bring?

From Entry #78:

Goin' through old e-mails...
they remind me of the days.
Jon sent them.
I wonder if he thinks of me.
I wonder if he remembers the days.

From Entry #81:

Never have I been so freaked out...
until now.


Look at the shit I have been reading on the Train forum. I can't even begin to describe it. Just look for sampepper.Fuckin' psychopath. If I was younger, I'd accuse him of a homosexual fixation on the band. I really would. But I'm not the brash internet young'un I was.

I'm almost a goddamn chicken shit.

If it wasn't for NI, I'd be fuckin' tearin' my hair out over this issue. I should leave, but I'm reconnecting w/people I haven't spoken to in over 2 years. I'll just opt to PM people and post very rarely. sampepper's fuckin' creepin' me out. I'm not fuckin' sayin' a word. I'm fuckin' wiggin'. I remember now why I Writing.com. This shit just confirms Net paranoia. I don't know what to fucking do. Who can I turn to? Time to find some answers, b/c I can't take much more of this shit.

*prays sampepper gets raped by Jon*

From Entry #91:

You haven't a clue how
you affect me...
when I look into your eyes,
I'm colorshot .
I wanna send you a ,
but damnit!
I'm working.
I can't.
Feels weird to fall again
for a co worker.
Do you hear me?

But everytime I look at you...
I want to be there with you.
Hold me, touch me...
love me.
That's all I want.
Is that too much to ask?
Maybe to little?
Why do I feel as if I haven't been
reaching out to you,
but you've been reaching out to me
all this time.
Is that the REAL reason I'm still here?


I find myself wanting to believe in destiny. Maybe I will.

From Entry #98:

Fuck.I'm daydreaming about Gordon, abd it leads to thoughts of Jon. Brutally unpleasant ones. I feel a lot of hate towards Jon these days. I wish he was dead. I wouldn't kill him. I'd let mother nature do him in. Give him AIDS or something. Make sure that revenge is served cold. Ice cold.

"Domino" by Genesis is lurking in my head right now. I think I'm gonna call the Compaq technicians. My comp's adapter is being funky Not cool by any means of the imagination.

Gordon, where are you? I miss you.

From Entry #108:

Keep dreaming of this color: green.
It's me. I know.

Keep dreaming about men, men I've wanted to be w/it @ one pt. or another. Men that have affected me, done something that is truly very difficult to do. I may crush regularly, but to fall for someone is well, kinda rare. When you regularly appear in my dreams, well, my boy, you've managed to accomplish a slim-to-damn-near-impossible goal.

I get transported to deserted lands in the midst of nowhere, yet I always feel like a part of me has been w/the land since the beginning of time.

THough I wanna be rich and famous, I never dream about those things. I always dream of the natural, which I presume has been influenced by my love for the central part of the state (like Port Mayaca, Okechobee, and Avon Park). I dream of green and brown, lush lands, deserted buildings, sweet talking men. It's so weird yet sooooooo soothing.

SOmetimes my nocturnal wanderings take me to some bad places. But usually, they take me to some of the most naturally beautiful dimensions.

From Entry #115:

Cum down, lousy cumbucker.
Don't have a fucking clue
Just want your dorky band groupies drooling on your "horn".

Dude-fuck that.
Can't deal with that shit.
I see you don't give a fuck who I am
and who I wanna be.
You thinkk I'm aiming too high when I dream of conquering the sky.
Someone's gotta fucking do it.
That's life. Learn to fucking deal, carpet licker.

And I don't think you understand exactly how it feels to be cast aside.
Sure, you were taunted, but I see you know no fucking sympathy.
Well, let me let you in on something.
Learn to fucking respect.
Learn some fucking patience.
I've discovered how to fucking cope, but you only run away.

I don't wanna be you experiment, so fuck it. Fuck you.
I so wanna lop your fucking nuts off, make sure your kind never exists again.
So fuck 'em. Fuck you.

WHen you're all alone, I want you to remember me. I'll make sure you do-by lacing your everyday life.
Hear others talk 'bout the latest movie I wrote.
Hear someone sing my lyrics.
Meet someone who loves my stories.
Remember m, the love and hate you gave me.
Remember me when you're all alone.

And a final word from Gordon in regards to my ex...
You're number one. Everyone else is number 2.


From Entry #136:

Have you seen me lately?
Read me much?
I'm an infatuated stik that's enjoying this game.
But I don't want a game.
I want a companion.
A flirty sort of friendship, one w/some benefits.
That whole love and trust shit can wait.
Stiky wants to play.
And if my playmate's older than me, so be it.
He's a crack up,
charming in a subtle way.
I see him chat w/everyone, but he's always close to me
See American Psycho in his car.
I know he's a twisted mother fucker, but aren't we all?
The innuendo wraps around us, but we're totally oblivious.
So youthful yet able to front maturity.
What a talent.
Who is he? Really?
Stix wanna know.
So Stik's gonna play until he suddenly begs for more.

From Entry #138:

In a great while come the rains.
It's @ the beginning of the months, a few straight days of rain.
It's a source of cleansing, occuring on a significant anniversary or 2.
These rains come when I'm on the verge of a transition, a sign something significant is going to happen, something that will benefit me.
These changes came with the May rains. But the May rains came @ a difficult time in my life.
The November rains come @ a more stable period in my life. If growth came from the cathartic May rains, then beauty will bloom from the nuturing November rains.

From Entry #167:

Damn. I look back and say
Wow. That's a year or so gone by.

Lot of time, a lot of time in which we changed. A lot of time in which I could get lost undoing what's been done. In some cases, though...too late.

I miss the days gone by, the days before I fell for you. I don't miss them as much, b/c I'm the closest I've been to them in a long time. I'm talkin' to friends who have known me longer than you have. They have seen me go through shit I've only told you about. In a way, they know more than you'll ever know. I remember those days, b/c even though sometimes I find myself on the verge of tears, happiness is here again. SOmetimes, I get moody, but hell, that sort of shit happens. We deal. We move on. You did. I have. I still would like some amnesty for us. I am over you. I just want to see what you're up to, and perhaps you could help me get someone I've got my eye on. Maybe that could put you @ ease.

Someday...

From Entry #170:

Accuse me of a power trip.
I don't believe in jiving.
Your work sucked, and I had to euphemise it.
What else can I say?
You advertise avant garde, but I've seen this shit before.
Sucking worse than my ex.
See my words for something new.

It's not your field to fuck w/me.
The holidays just might do me in.
Christmas is a time of loss.
Will you ever see that light?

Perhaps I'll change my tune and totally lay into you.
Then you'll learn not to fuck
with a Stik
unless you want splinters.

From Entry #174:

THINK IT'S ALL COOL 'CUZ YOU'RE GAY?
STOP FLAUNTING IT IN MY FACE!
EVERY TIME I TURN AROUND, I SEE SOMEONE ELSE WITH THE RAINBOW ON THEIR ASS.
NOT EVERYONE HATES GAYS AND BIS OUT OF IGNORANCE.
I HATE THEM BECAUSE FOR YEARS THEY FUCKED WITH MY MIND.

THEY MENTALLY ABUSED ME WHEN I WAS AN INSECURE FRESHMAN IN HIGH SCHOOL.
A CLOSETED GAY FRIEND FUCKING SPILLED ALL MY SECRETS WHILE I WAS STILL VULNERABLE.
TWO YEARS AFTER, I MEET A NICE GUY AT WORK.
HE TURNS OUT TO BE BI, AND FUCK IF I'M RESPECTED ANYMORE.

NEARLY 2 YEARS AFTER THAT, EVERYTIME I TURN ON MY TV....
GAYS. GAYS. MORE FUCKING GAYS!!!!!!
CAN'T A STRAIGHT HOMOPHOBE FIND PEACE IN THE WORLD?
EVEN HER FELLOW HOMOPHOBES IN THE GOVERNMENT OFFER NO LIGHT.
WELL, FUCK IT, AND FUCK YOU IF YOU SUPPORT ALTERNATIVES.
I FOUND OUT ANOTHER PERSON W/A 1/2 WAY INTRGUING PERSONALITY IS BI.
NOW THEY'VE LOST MY SUPPORT.

From Entry #219:

sung in some way...

I'm not so afraid
to hear ya talkin' in your sleep.
Despite it hurt before,
it's not cuttin' so deep.
Bruises left behind
don't hurt like hell.
I deal with the throbbing
the best that I can.
I did something wrong,
but now it's not bothering me.
A million one things keep me
from fallin' in too deep.

From Entry #234:

Me a Fangy Stik,
ready to attack the next person
that tries to debunk me.
You claim that eternal youth lies in coping.
Fuck that.
Time is on my side.

When acid has replaced the blood in your veins-
you know.
When your heart takes on a coat of lead-
you know.
When the best way to relieve stress is to fire it up-
you know.
You know that time is on your side.

When you learn to let go of faith-
you know.
When you know that things will never change-
you know.
When so much makes sense you feel you've fallen in too deep-
you know.
You know that you're near immortality.

When you see what's on the flip side-
you know.
When you're willing to obliterate that thing called a boundary-
you know.
When you can dissect every aspect of every little thing-
you know.
You know the universe has little to hide.

When you're able to scoff-
you know.
When you can trascend earthly desires-
you know.
When you see the big picture-
you know.
You know God has given up.

I will age my own way with the passing of everyday. I've seen ppl live for ages in spite of imbibing in sin. There's a way to age gracefully, but it's not in the physical. Physically, I'm 18, but mentally I've aged to 420.

From Entry #240:

The Year Round Wish List!!!!

A yoga class or private instructor
MONEY!!!!!$$$$$$$$$$$$$
sanity
full scholarship to USC
a year's membership to a gym
my own private dance room (love to dance, but not in front of ppl)
Valentine's Day eliminated
lethal fangs
confidence
my own place
to see all the popular kids in high school get put in their places
Oscars. More than two.
a Garfield plush
good storage for all my collected money
the prospect of retiring before I turn 105


From Entry #250:

It wasn't her day. It really truly wasn't. What was going to happen now? she wondered.

Erin plopped down on her couch, mentally and physically drained from the accelerated ebb and flow of daily life. Things were getiing rough, anymore, and she had been very lucky not to get arrested for trespassing this week. The life of this paparazzi photographer had become very difficult ever since she got the picture of Brad Pitt molesting that little girl. Now under pressure to get more incrimnating picture from her boss and dealing w/the public's uproar over her scandalous work, she lost her desire to be a paparazzi photographer. Once upon a time, it gave her the highest of highs, but now she was paying the price for her addiction.

A manilla envelope sat on her coffee table, waiting for someone to unearth its contents. She figured What the hell? and gathered up the envelope. Opening it, she found an unlabeled DVD. I wonder what this is... Having nothing better to do, she pooped the DVD into the player and kicked back.

Nothing could have prepared her for what was on the DVD.

A young blonde was kneeling in front of a very tan male, preparing to give the man head. Though she could not see the girl as she sucked him, she could tell it wasn't going to take long. And she was right. Within just a couple minutes, the girl was done and straddled the man's lap. And the man....was a former teacher of Erin's.


From Entry #253:

little clues that fall into place.
a picture, a date...
he let me in.
was that his only purpose?
to let me in?
to let me in and then take a wrecking ball to them?
it's not sweet nor noble to sabotage.
so why is this suddenly making sense?
i'm drowning in my epiphany.
i'm lost in its dimentia.
someone get me out.
it's not safe in here.
i'm about to cause the greatest hurt e'er inflicted...

From Entry #270:

I wish he'd respond
to my pleas for a faithful ear.
Must I sneak in tomorrow
risking my sanity?
I need to admit to him
that for a nearly a year I'd been lying.
I know what my demon is.
Now how do I proceed?

For now, I grab the lube
and fantasize in peace.
That can't go on forever.
I need to resolve this.
Yet so much of it has to be
on the DL that
I only trust him,
but he hasn't responded to my pleas.

From Entry #276:

I feel it. I feel it racing through my body.

I fear I'm losing influence.
I fear I'm gonna land in jail due to my driving habits.
I fear people are laughing at me even if they smile to my face.
I fear I'm a loser to everyone around me.
I fear for my sanity, whatever is left.
I fear no one loves me, but I can understand why.
I fear I will never be respected again.


From Entry #299:

Here I am
stuck
in my own asylum.
I'm destitute, lonely,
and with no life to call my own.
No social life =
inordinate affections.
Trying to deal w/them=
rude awakenings.
Rude awakenings=
depression
over realizing that my life sucks.
I need a life,
but where's a misanthrope to go?
I only have my writing.
Somebody tell me if I have anything else.
I'm kindly scorned.
I scorn myself.
I have no social life.
I hate my classmates.
I hate my life.
Sometimes I just wanna knock my head against the wall until it cracks.
I'm too fucking chickenshit to.
Anyone want to give me a life?
Anyone wanna help me escape my hometown.
This place sucks big time.
I don't want a social life here.
All the ppl my age are white trash.
I see their pics.
I develop that crap every day.
I don't want to befriend them.
I want to befriend those in high society.
Call me a snob?
What if I'm down w/that?
What if I like the allure of money
power
control?
What if I like spending money?
What if I'm a glamour freak deep down?
Maybe fame is just another asylum that will leave me abadoned.
I doubt I'll ever be a socially healthy girl.
My parents are hermits.
They must have passed it onto me.

From Entry #310:

Five lovers lay here,
basking in a blissful haze.
How long has it been
since their passionate revel?

Beautiful brown man
with soft smile 'pon his lips
lies in the center
naked like a newborn babe.

Head crooked to his neck
lies a redheaded temptress.
She sang so sweetly
a tune that man knew so well.

On his left side is
a young male, trembling in joy.
This experience
granted all his desires.

Above the three lies
a plump boy in ecstasy.
His girth mattered not
in their raunchy wrestle.

At the brown man's feet
is a sleepy looking girl.
Only she moves, stroking
the soles of the brown man's feet.

Memories linger
of their chaotic dancing-
touching and feeling
everyone at the same time.

It was about lust.
No one cared about gender.
Entrances were made,
prompting their shrieks of delight.

I watched their groping
in rapture and amazement.
The happy voyeur-
that was me! watching them play...

They told a story
in their ecstatic screaming......
one day I will give a damn.

From Entry #317:

[My only hope]is to avoid site condemnation.
I'm taking a chance, a chance that may ruin me.
To suggest that education equals punishment from God could be my ultimate fall....
but what if it's not?
What if my essay is what brings me into the spotlight?
Damn notoriety will still muddle me,
reduce me to my barest bits
make me primal,
left to my emotions....
that isn't good.


If I was to be raped,
I'd want to kill the motherfucker that only wants my ass/pussy.
I would want to do more than fight.
I'd wanna inflict the torture on my rapist,
the torture I want to inflict on all the traitors in my life:
Jon, Michelle, Mom, Jeff, Igor, all of them.
Disembowelment, mental anguish, make them eat their own genitalia......
I'd do it all to the rapist, for I'm more merciless than they.


From Entry #330:

My dear Bitchy,
it's been a year.
What has happened in this lonely year gone by?
We've had our social lives; you even had a relationship.
I've done what I could to pick up the pieces of what had been my shattered life.
In the process, I've seen things go from bad to worse...
have been reunited with people who helped me...
worked to heal things with my parents...
excel in my writing endeavors.

Still, though, from time to time
you visit me in my dreams.
You're usually not well off.
I want to hold you again,
comfort you like in days gone by.
There are things connected to you that I can't just throw away because
they have helped to shape my being.
They still bring me to fits of raucocious laughter
even when the thought of you makes me brittle inside.

I finally admitted to myself what helped to split us apart.
I was a goddamn fool.
I'm sorry.
Please forgive me.
It was hard, and it took longer than it should have, but I did it. I admitted it.
I swear on my life I never pursued him. Sometimes I wanted to, but thank God for my ability to rationalize.

Even on this day, this somber anniversary, I want to say...

I love you.

From Entry #344:

If you're feeling masochistic, say 'Oh yeah'.
(Oh yeah!)
If you're feeling masochistic, say 'Oh yeah'.
(Oh yeah!)
If you're feeling masochistic, and you really wanna show it-
Yeah, you feeling masochistic. Say 'Oh yeah.'
OH YEAH!

From Entry #345:

female w/mysogenistic tendencies
hates taking sides and seeks to justify a third opinion at all times
against animal testing, for human testing
ultra sadist
views God as the ULTIMATE sadist
hates bragging in public but brags in online journal
will choose violence over sex. ALWAYS
says Bush is a puppet, wants cabinet ousted
is prejudiced against other races but never acts in violence b/c of it
hates all political parties and has somewhat conservative views
a writer
a thinker
a deviant
a potential genius
disturbed
angry
likely to be deported
fearful of US government
dismayed at US "culture"
somewhat functionalist
against organized religion
self conscious
talkative
negative/nemesis
legend


From Entry #368:

He's not for me...
not now.
There's still too much tension.
The line's drawn thin.
I made my choice.
I still care for him.
His love, however, is not for me.
Not now.
I still believe that he fely more for me
than what he should have felt.
Now's not the time to make good on that.
Tension lies
in both our hearts.
Apprehension breeds
in both our minds.
Disagreements reign,
but love reigns over me.
I've made my choice.

Still, mysteries must be solved
so we get out of neutral,
so tension doesn't kill us,
so things will eventually stabilize.
Love and hate have divided us both.
Why'd you let them walk
and coerce me to stay?
These things I seek
will put to rest
the anxiety that is always with me.
Why my foot?
How could you not have known?
Why were you so cold to me
but then amenable in the 11th hour?
Do you realize how your actions could be misconstrued?
I was used by you, but let it be said
that it seems you were completely unaware.
Or were you?
Did you like to play the naive fool?
Was that just a charade?
If so, what was its purpose?
I ask all this because I feel
that I misread the situation
and then fell in too deep.
I doubt it is you who will rescue me.
Rather, it will be your answers that will save me,
pull me from bedlam,
help me to put the piece of my distorted life back together.
Maybe you are unaware of the damage you've caused.
That damage keeps me from loving you to the fullest.
Until we can cooperate and bridge the chasm,
I have made my choice.

I love you, Igor, but I just can't do it.

From Entry #373:



Things I find romantic:

flower-black rose
gift-either a good non-chick book/movie (like I Am Legend or Tora Tora Tora!), or a whip
proposal-(after a nice long night of tantric sex)"Wanna elope?"
place-Bok Sanctuary
song-"Molly on the Shore" by Percy Grainger
surprise-approaching me wearing a collar requesting to be walked Either that or taking me to Savannah for a week
approach (asking me out for the first time)-"We've been friends for so long..." or (in Igor's case) "I thought about using shrimping to ease your crying..."
something a guy can say to me-"Your latest story on (choose your own taboo topic) gave me a boner."


From Entry #380:

Lord, forgive me
for my foolishness.
I curse someone out,
but then he becomes so fascinating to me.

Keep this infatuation from getting any worse.
It's making being here too much.
Now I write just to impress him
even though I'm still not sure how I feel abbout him.

Perhaps it's because
we have some things in common
that he's so intriguing to me.
I read his words-
breathtaking
I read his life-
fascinating.

A part of me is smitten,
but another doesn't feel good enough for him.
But something I wrote inspired him.
Something I created drew him in.
I wish I still heard from him.
Lord....I'm so scared


From Entry #388:

Sometimes they fall
in times of lonliness and fallout.
They are cathartic, bleeding...
much like my own jaded heart.

On these times during which they fall, my mind and body
are pulled through the ringer...
once....
twice.....
thre times......
I am drained and purged
of the hate and the pain.
Yet all that I have is hate and pain.

It is these rains, though, that are needed-
needed for me to end the cycle of dependence.
That catharsis, that shedding-
I needed it
to be over him.


This year, the May rains bless me.
They bring forth knowledge, prophecy,
respect, spark...
They nuture me,
make my mind fertile.
They cleanse me of old notions
but don't touch my heart.
It's understood my heart is not yet ready
for this cleansing.

I stand on the edge of another decade passed.
This final year was my final torment.
This third decade, the lucky three,
shall put me into motion.
Ushering in this glorious decade
are the nuturing May rains.
Blessed be they....

From Entry #394:

'Scuse me while I bust it out.
I hit the jackpot, and I'm happy as a fuck.
I'm out of it right now, like I'm dancin' in my sleep
but completely unafraid of fallin' in too deep.
He's got it for all to see,
and I see his girlfriend's name.
However, she's got a TROMBONE BUDDY
and is headin' far away.

I'm waitin' to watch him fall.
It's all good from this point on.
Perhaps it's all about
the truth settin' me free.
I know where he is.
I no longer seem to give a fuck.
This just might not last.
And I will get the last laugh.

Party, party, party!
The tune's blasting in my head.
I'm swivelin', slammin' it,
chillin' like ice.
I'm crazy but cool
an' I like it like that.
I hear the 'Click click, aww'
reverberating like a bongo pulsing the jungle music
till the morning sun.

I best head out for now,
but I'm still a happy girl.
I've got my friends
that were loyal to the end,
and here's hoping I see them again.

From Entry #433:

I dreamt you and I were standing along the rocky shore of the beach, watching the ocean's waves crash against the rocks. The waves were uncharacteristically violent, but I was unafraid, as you were by my side.

We wandered the shore and ventured further onto land to see and amusement park annd high rise apartments. It reminded me of these burned-out shells of apartments that were halfway built when the feminist group burned them in protest. Still, I felt no fear, for in this dream you were always by my side.


From Entry #438:

I looked at a play I started a long time ago when the only thing on my side was a broken heart and a pile of literature miles high.

My pen began to weave the tale of a young quarrelsome girl like me who believed that love was absurd. Unfortunately, her naivety included every type of love, and she embodied irony, falling to her own theory.

My young, jaded mind had hit upon some truths, but over a year later, I find I do not feel the same way. As long as I have this feeling, I cannot finish what I had hoped would be my masterpiece. That matters not, now. There are more important things at hand.

When you love, you don't care about the absurdity.


From Entry #443:

Did I just say that?
Did I just write that?
Face it. I did.
I'm really scared now.
What have I done?
Why did I say that?
(Because I thought it'd be for the best.)
Some may say it is for the best.
But what if I don't want whatever might be the best?
What if "the best" is absolute BULLSHIT???
Why the fuck does it feel like I'm digging my own grave?
They can go ahead and bury me alive here.
(As opposed to Florida, there's actually soil here.)

I care so much for him.
I really do.
So why did I write that?
Why am I so dumb sometimes?
I should've left it well alone.
Why did things turn out the way they did?
I'm struck down, and I want to protect him...

but I feel like shit.
I feel like I've made a mistake.
I sent it. I can't take it back.
I almost want to, but I know I can't.
I shoudn't.
I won't.
I have to be honest if this is going to survive.
I will give anything to make this work.
I do not want to lose him as a friend, a love.
Goddamnit, this hurts.

God. Fucking. Damnit.

From Entry #466:

If only I could stop thinking...
for a second.
I feel unfulfilled, but it grows within.
Another decision raps on my door
as I try to go about my day.
How willing am I to continue like this?
A day? A week? A lifetime?

I parade around under many names,
but he knows what is real.

What is real?
I care for him. I adore him.
How far am I willing to go to express it?
I feel like I'm heading diwn a twisted path
even though I have accepted him for who he is.
I'm feeling uncomfortable
even though I've morphed into something new.

I purr.
Cats purr in happiness
and fear.
I want to reach out and touch him,
knead his skin like a content cat would.
At the same time, I worry
that I won't be seen as a human
that is imperfect.
Do I purr in happiness or fear?

Wtiting a story-
I think about you.
Lounging around-
I think about you.
Reviewing and judging-
I think about you.

I fight the urge to jump and reply to the letters.
I'm about to burst
yet hold it all inside.
I do it for him.

The e-mail comes,
and I purr.
I hope I'm not completely lost in my heart.
Damn my craving for attention...
affection...
dare I say the last one?

What did happen to Miss Independent?
Did she fall in love
and undergo a metamorphosis?

Looks like she's not quite the same.
She's still standing on her own two feet
and planning for the future.

Maybe it's just the distance that's taking its toll.
Maybe I just crave physical attention/affection.

From Entry #477:

It's not normally the color in which I write
but does that matter?
I know I've done something to send him packing.
I want to know what it is
so I'm not up all night wondering.
Was it something I said?
Was it something I did...
or not do?
Not knowing keeps me on the edge.
I hate the edge.
I'm not comfortable there.

I feel like I'm caught in a black hole with no one to turn to
as I am deftly ignored,
unable to share my thoughts.
I'm to be awake, forcing a smile on my face in five hours.
Morning with relatives,
working the afternoon and evening.
I hope to come home to some reassurance,
but will I?
I wonder.
I'm not certain.
I eagerly await his correspondence,
but now it is so rare.
I think he's ignoring me.
When I reach out to him,
cold shoulders greet me,
icicles piercing my arms...
I can't move.
I want to cry,
but I choke my tears back.
Instead, I am left here with the one solace I have, scribing fractured poetry at ungodly hours of the night.

Everything to me is a tormentor.
Coming here reminds me of him,
but I want to stay.
Staying here reminds me of our lack of communication,
and I tremble in fear of a possible fight.
Damn near 3 o' clock, and my stomach
is in the vice grip.

Fatigue tries to lure me to the land of sleep.
Sleep dances away, leaving me to my thoughts:
fear, regret, imagination, pain, torture, possibility.
I am haunted in the night.
I am haunted by myself.
Makes me want to find some pills that will alter my state of mind,
but I don't want that torture.
How much of this torture do I want to endure?
Wonder when my soul'll crack.
I crave isolation...
with exception to his solid embrace.
I fear all I will have is the memories-
too few, too brief.
I feel like shit...

and I know I brought it upon myself.

*writhes in emotional pain*

From Entry #500:

American Hubris: A Ponderation  (ASR) Once upon a time, there was a shape shifting tragedy. #954896 by Elisa the Bunny Stik