I learned this puzzle long before I ever learned the touch of a man.
The first mystery I solved with my hands.
At sixteen the solving was writ in my bones.
Here it lives on between the tissue of my fingers.
A metacarpal memory of every edge and face.
An oracle foretells a picture of a coloured cube
with all its sides succinct.
Amnesic when I think of you, of you, of you and you.
While the memory of this pattern transcends.
Every grope grab throttle and squeeze.
I read it in a book.
A phalanx never forgets and the answer is always here.
Our memories are not the same.
All the times I left and have been left and will leave again are gone and will go.
And this cube will see it's solved state ad infinitum while I work on the solution to you.
But a man is not a six sided shape.
And every one a new sequence of turns and slides to solve.
A button, a belt, a zipper.
left turn on the back face
ouch he says.
down turn on the front
and he moans.
An abscence of an answer. A means to an end.
I peel off the stickers and put them back on the right way.
I'm a cheater where it counts the most.
Everywhere.
15.2.15
wine & dine
No brass knocker to know.
Through a crack
in the glass
A thread wide gap
to pass
I came into your house.
No bars on your windows
No locks on your doors
Try bridle my cogent approach
But you will not
keep me
out.
13.2.15
you give me a feeling.
Because in one hour it will be Valentine's day, I am once again in a cycle of thought called "why am I always single?" It annoys me to think about but I can't leave the cycle until I write it out loud. Sorry if you're reading, this will probably annoy you too. But to decide if I have a problem or not, it must be written.
I verily, truly, honestly and deeply believe that in some form I have an addiction to sex.
Growing up I wanted a boyfriend.
In junior high I liked a boy. He wanted my best friend instead.
This is the time a friend told me to stop looking for a boyfriend, and just let it happen.
So I did.
In high school I liked a boy. He wanted another girl instead.
I was already halfway through a process of becoming someone who would never have a thought about wanting a boyfriend. I never wanted him as a boyfriend. But I liked the way he looked and felt and the way he looked at me.
He was not my first love, but he was the first.
I left the city. My evolution into a hard hearted girl edged onward.
Within the past two years I had completed my transformation into an ascetic of sorts, wholly abstaining from romantic love. I dedicated all the time I would have given to a man to my art and my work. And it has been good. When I slept with a man, it would be him who wanted more and I would be the one who laughed. Now it was me who got to say, "well maybe you shouldn't have put out so fast."
Then another man came into my life who would make me question my austerity.
I think I wanted to be with him. Then I left the city.
And I've come to know why having a boyfriend will not work for me.
I change my mind so often and require so many different personalities in my bed that I could never promise myself to only one.
So I will not do that to a man I care about. I will stay alone. I will take what I need from men as they come and go.
I can't be with you because you will not hurt me. And I need the hurt to be happy.
I've been thinking about my sexuality and why it is like this. Once I thought I was just kicking back at society. But it goes deeper.
I was in kindergarten when I got brought into a dimly lit room with five other children. We were told we were in this special class because we were a little bit smarter than the rest. The teacher read us a little picture book about a little girl and an older man. The man was her stepdad and offered the girl toys in exchange for weird acts of touching and more gifts to keep the touching secret. After the reading, we were told if we had experiences like the little girl to tell another adult and not keep it hidden.
I thought I was put in this class because I was a good reader. That's what my mother told me. But I'm thinking it could have been because they thought I had been assaulted myself, which I had never been. Historically, children who have been assaulted exhibit some form of sexual behaviour very early so I think I might have been conducting myself in a way that made my teachers think this. Essentially I've been at least noticeably sexual since as young as six just because I was fucked up all on my own. Growing up I only hung out with boys. I remember playing in a large toy block shelter with a boy and getting pulled out by a supervisor in my daycare. I wasn't allowed to play alone with the boys in a spot that no one could see. I had my own room and tv at my grandparents house and when I went there for the weekends, I would stay up and watch Sexual Secrets, keeping the volume low. The show wasn't even pornographic, I just was enthralled by nudity and the concept of intercourse. At an age when internet still blocked up the phone line and I was only allowed on the computer for a choice amount of time, I would spend it looking at strange cartoon pornography. In high school there was a point where I stopped getting invited to parties because I would go and just try to fuck someone the whole time. After I lost my virginity I never wanted to fuck again. I was in the midst of an eating disorder that was destroying my mind and wouldn't leave room for me to even think about sharing my body with someone. It was my addiction to non-eating. When I stopped starving myself from food, I realized how hungry I was for touch. I put one addiction in the place of another. Now I'm an artist and everything I make is about sex. I animated a loop of squares two days ago and although visually there is nothing sexually suggestive, I realized the colours I had chosen were all flesh tones. I've been thinking a lot about how I'm going to get through my semester abroad. Because I don't sleep with strangers. I haven't slept with anyone at my art school at home so I imagine it will be similar here too. I thought about going to a strip club. Men go in and pay for dances and extras, so why can't I? Wouldn't it even be better since I'm a woman? I remember some of the dancers back at the club I used to work in actually being very pretty. But would I be so desperate to pay for sex? If men pay for women to take control of them, if they pay for the opportunity to submit to a woman... could I do the same to a man? Does such a thing exist? Am I in such a backwards spiral of thought that I can't accept the idea that it would not be so hard to find a man to hit me in bed as I think? This is where I will truly understand how deep my addiction lies. I decided to write off men for now to keep my mind off it and pursue women instead just to think about something else for once.
11.2.15
I met a man on the street today who asked me for the time. He never told me his name but I feel like I know him all the same. As our paths crossed along the icy sidewalk, he waved for my attention and pointed at his wrist. I looked at my watch and proclaimed, "Seven-thirty." When I matched my gaze to his, I saw the circuitry of his brain firing off messages of perplexity. A muscle below his left eye twitched and his lips began to part, but he never said a thing. I left the man here; a dumbfound statue with a limp jaw and brows tensed in something between thought and struggle.
It was only three o' clock. What a marvel it is that one would put such trust in a stranger to give them the correct time. I didn't lie though, not truly. This watch had been broken for years. I found it when we rummaged through my grandmother's home for items of value after she died. It read 7:30 then, just as it reads now. The rest of my family passed over the useless timepiece but its leather strap and golden bezel captured my eyes. I saw worth. Even a broken watch is right twice a day and I have always loved the feel of leather.
8.2.15
In how the wood of your branches held me
while blindly searching with the tips of my feet
for holes that would hold.
With eyes to the sky and hands that never left your trunk,
my fingers slid between the bark and across your front
I raised myself.
Through your canopy I emerge and respire
an air so pure it floats
One arm outstretched, one arm to hold
Balanced between safety and sweetness.
I take your peach in my fist like a pearl in a ring.
A stone set in gold.
and eaten whole.
On the descent
a hollow in the bole.
I found the honey in your tree.
and never tasted something so dirty and sweet.
Then still climbing down, it clung to me.
In a long sticky wire all the way to the ground.
That shone with an amber that left the sun wanting.
And with no shade to hide her
the rays that she sent
illuminated that tacky gold
against all her will.
A choice for power to reach lightyears beyond,
comes not with the strength for control.
while blindly searching with the tips of my feet
for holes that would hold.
With eyes to the sky and hands that never left your trunk,
my fingers slid between the bark and across your front
I raised myself.
Through your canopy I emerge and respire
an air so pure it floats
One arm outstretched, one arm to hold
Balanced between safety and sweetness.
I take your peach in my fist like a pearl in a ring.
A stone set in gold.
and eaten whole.
On the descent
a hollow in the bole.
I found the honey in your tree.
and never tasted something so dirty and sweet.
Then still climbing down, it clung to me.
In a long sticky wire all the way to the ground.
That shone with an amber that left the sun wanting.
And with no shade to hide her
the rays that she sent
illuminated that tacky gold
against all her will.
A choice for power to reach lightyears beyond,
comes not with the strength for control.
5.2.15
I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.
it's a little alarming how much you've gotten me to feel towards you.
i think you're the one who will make me into the crazy girl.
i think about the things you said to me and write them into pretty images.
"why are you in this room?"
i woke you up the last night of the ski trip because i wanted you and it was the first time we could be alone. i crawled up behind you and told you my secrets. i thanked you for waking up because i was filled with fear that you wouldn't. you were surprised that i liked you. because i've never shown an interest, and to be honest i never really was before that trip. but no one else made me feel comfortable the way you did. when everyone looks at you like a sex object, those that don't seem to stand out.
i think you should know when i say i like violence, i don't mean i like to hurt others. i've never been in a fight. all i know is the violence i inflict upon myself. it's how i hold myself when no one will. there is safety in pain. it's the only thing that's certain.
i think i'll miss you a lot. mostly in how our bodies fit together perfectly like a puzzle of two pieces. i wish you were here. i want you to talk to me, but i don't think you will. i cried when i got here because i lost my phone and the airline lost my bags. i whined to you because i needed to talk to you.
i never talk to boys first. ever.
but then i found my phone. and my bags came the next day.
and i stopped crying.
you were my tenth. i think that makes you special. i'm sad you weren't my last before i left. but it's good i got to eleven because i learned just how much i really like you. i wished he was you the whole time. i never regret sleeping with a man. it's always better than not. i told you i think i might be sick with nymphomania. but i fear this one will push you away. i'm very afraid.
i think you broke me. i never had feelings for men who didn't use me or ignore me. you're some kind of first. "but maybe don't go falling in love." i'm really going to try.
i think you're the one who will make me into the crazy girl.
i think about the things you said to me and write them into pretty images.
"why are you in this room?"
i woke you up the last night of the ski trip because i wanted you and it was the first time we could be alone. i crawled up behind you and told you my secrets. i thanked you for waking up because i was filled with fear that you wouldn't. you were surprised that i liked you. because i've never shown an interest, and to be honest i never really was before that trip. but no one else made me feel comfortable the way you did. when everyone looks at you like a sex object, those that don't seem to stand out.
i think you should know when i say i like violence, i don't mean i like to hurt others. i've never been in a fight. all i know is the violence i inflict upon myself. it's how i hold myself when no one will. there is safety in pain. it's the only thing that's certain.
i think i'll miss you a lot. mostly in how our bodies fit together perfectly like a puzzle of two pieces. i wish you were here. i want you to talk to me, but i don't think you will. i cried when i got here because i lost my phone and the airline lost my bags. i whined to you because i needed to talk to you.
i never talk to boys first. ever.
but then i found my phone. and my bags came the next day.
and i stopped crying.
you were my tenth. i think that makes you special. i'm sad you weren't my last before i left. but it's good i got to eleven because i learned just how much i really like you. i wished he was you the whole time. i never regret sleeping with a man. it's always better than not. i told you i think i might be sick with nymphomania. but i fear this one will push you away. i'm very afraid.
i think you broke me. i never had feelings for men who didn't use me or ignore me. you're some kind of first. "but maybe don't go falling in love." i'm really going to try.
31.1.15
boy in girls clothes
nerve endings.
she said I think we could be friends
but i'm afraid.
i jumped in the lake.
the water rose to meet my feet
and the shiver started in my toes
it rushed to my eyes right through my clothes
skywards like a lightning bolt.
i broke the ice with little bits of love.
small but deadly
they called me but i had already come.
once there was sand here
before that snow
now nothing but sea and waves and froth
soon the salt will fuel a fire
and whatever there is to burn shall burn
the suffer is coming, she said.
and pain begets more pain.
i came here on a shuttle.
a hard landing, a prophecy told.
i came into the world like a comet and exploded into the atmosphere.
i searched the earth for my pieces.
they had been eaten.
i took you home
i dug into you
my parts took up places in your heart so i took them back
i left you alone with holes in your bones
and laughed my way out the door.
your mouth made a scream in the shape of a whisper
and you bled your way out on the floor
she said I think we could be friends
but i'm afraid.
i jumped in the lake.
the water rose to meet my feet
and the shiver started in my toes
it rushed to my eyes right through my clothes
skywards like a lightning bolt.
i broke the ice with little bits of love.
small but deadly
they called me but i had already come.
once there was sand here
before that snow
now nothing but sea and waves and froth
soon the salt will fuel a fire
and whatever there is to burn shall burn
the suffer is coming, she said.
and pain begets more pain.
i came here on a shuttle.
a hard landing, a prophecy told.
i came into the world like a comet and exploded into the atmosphere.
i searched the earth for my pieces.
they had been eaten.
i took you home
i dug into you
my parts took up places in your heart so i took them back
i left you alone with holes in your bones
and laughed my way out the door.
your mouth made a scream in the shape of a whisper
and you bled your way out on the floor
25.1.15
you never realize how beautiful a sunrise is until it is the last thing you ever wanted to see.
somehow i slept through the pain of the night.
i tried so hard to help you but i'm useless.
the only thing i know about pain is that it goes away when you inflict it on yourself.
to control pain is to turn it into new pain.
i carved a warning into a wall of stone. you wrote yours with the tip of your finger in the beach.
it was gone by sunset.
i wasn't made for this.
they broke the rules when i was born.
'of course you are' she said between snarling lips and closed teeth.
i give bad advice and can't make you feel better.
all i know is to feed you because to starve is death.
who is happy in a sea of carcasses
put up your hand if you were the first here to die
i begged you to stay.
begged.
i bent my back to be beautiful.
before the beginning of the black moon.
are you surprised that i used you?
remember what i told you.
i am not that girl.
do not put me on that shelf.
somehow i slept through the pain of the night.
i tried so hard to help you but i'm useless.
the only thing i know about pain is that it goes away when you inflict it on yourself.
to control pain is to turn it into new pain.
i carved a warning into a wall of stone. you wrote yours with the tip of your finger in the beach.
it was gone by sunset.
i wasn't made for this.
they broke the rules when i was born.
'of course you are' she said between snarling lips and closed teeth.
i give bad advice and can't make you feel better.
all i know is to feed you because to starve is death.
who is happy in a sea of carcasses
put up your hand if you were the first here to die
i begged you to stay.
begged.
i bent my back to be beautiful.
before the beginning of the black moon.
are you surprised that i used you?
remember what i told you.
i am not that girl.
do not put me on that shelf.
27.12.14
i've gotta stay high all the time to keep from missing you.
I think I cried in the bathtub again.
I never felt so clean,
yet still so caked in filth.
... I remembered a day in the forest, working on the crew with you.
I stood in the empty trailer of the work truck and leaned against the frame, heavy with despair that you would never be mine.
The night before I met the one who was yours.
You saw my sadness from where you stood, outside and in the group.
You climbed into the trailer and asked me what was wrong.
You took off my sunglasses.
You pulled down my scarf.
All of my naked sorrow for your golden eyes to ponder.
And I told you nothing.
Because it was not the time to tell you what the problem was.
That you would marry another girl and you would never see me in that light.
But that moment when you leapt into the truck, backed me into the side, and forced out my bare face for you to gaze into like a crystal ball; that's a moment I remember as one that told me you felt the same ...
The steam of the tub became the breath in my lungs and I came out soggy with dread.
Thank you for showing me real fear.
I have become it.
I wonder if you'll text again.
"I thought of you today."
Every time you say this is a knife in my side, though not steel like the ones I put in myself. It's the bone of your fingers, clutching my center and caressing my curves.
I tell you every time I see you how much I miss you.
Nothing ever changes.
I looked at my tattoos in the mirror to soothe the ache.
The way out is through.
I repeat it like I'm in church again, talking to an invisible, all-knowing presence with the same hope for granted goodness.
I look at the solar disk on my neck. My god is the sun.
All of my breath, blood and life given from this.
I drink some cool water from a tin cup.
The metal is familiar and draws me in a flashback to a moment of comfort.
It's the feel of the razor on my hip. It's my transformation of the dull pain to the euphoric release.
I need this.
I needed you.
I never felt so clean,
yet still so caked in filth.
... I remembered a day in the forest, working on the crew with you.
I stood in the empty trailer of the work truck and leaned against the frame, heavy with despair that you would never be mine.
The night before I met the one who was yours.
You saw my sadness from where you stood, outside and in the group.
You climbed into the trailer and asked me what was wrong.
You took off my sunglasses.
You pulled down my scarf.
All of my naked sorrow for your golden eyes to ponder.
And I told you nothing.
Because it was not the time to tell you what the problem was.
That you would marry another girl and you would never see me in that light.
But that moment when you leapt into the truck, backed me into the side, and forced out my bare face for you to gaze into like a crystal ball; that's a moment I remember as one that told me you felt the same ...
The steam of the tub became the breath in my lungs and I came out soggy with dread.
Thank you for showing me real fear.
I have become it.
I wonder if you'll text again.
"I thought of you today."
Every time you say this is a knife in my side, though not steel like the ones I put in myself. It's the bone of your fingers, clutching my center and caressing my curves.
I tell you every time I see you how much I miss you.
Nothing ever changes.
I looked at my tattoos in the mirror to soothe the ache.
The way out is through.
I repeat it like I'm in church again, talking to an invisible, all-knowing presence with the same hope for granted goodness.
I look at the solar disk on my neck. My god is the sun.
All of my breath, blood and life given from this.
I drink some cool water from a tin cup.
The metal is familiar and draws me in a flashback to a moment of comfort.
It's the feel of the razor on my hip. It's my transformation of the dull pain to the euphoric release.
I need this.
I needed you.
27.10.14
sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine.
I am just a worthless liar.
I am just an imbecile.
I will only complicate you.
Trust in me and fall as well.
I will find a center in you.
I will chew it up and leave,
I will work to elevate you
Just enough to bring you down.
I tried really hard not to feel anymore. Every time I have feelings for a guy, it hurts. It has never felt right or good. Usually I can get away with feeling bad by not caring. But when I have realizations about myself, my past and my future, I start to break down. I had another realization this weekend.
I've never not had to compete with another girl over a guy I had feelings for. I would not call myself competitive in the classical sense. It doesn't bother me to lose. But I always strive to be better than the masses. I want to rise above the horde and be seen. I want a guy to see me over this other girl's shoulder. I want to make you tilt your head so you're looking at me around her. I want to watch your head spin as you look for me in the crowd. I'm not going to fight her or put her down. I want you to make the choice of me. I want to see the gears in your mind wind up as you suffer through deciding. As you wonder what it could be like with me. If it would be better than with her. If choosing me will be the worst decision of your life. If you ask me, I'll tell you it is.
I don't believe you when you said you had a crush on me. I think you were just being nice. I'm sorry for coming on so strong. Maybe you really do like me. You asked to come over. Maybe you just want to fuck. I probably won't visit you in Costa Rica. That's beyond what I'm confident enough to do. I don't fear a lot of things, but I fear pursuing an attachment that only exists in my mind. Maybe I'll still like you in June. Maybe then you'll like me too. Maybe one day this will happen for me. And it won't hurt to want to love someone. Maybe it'll hurt forever. Maybe I'll stop crying in my car. Maybe I'll quit drifting into the oncoming lane. I had a fantasy that a cop pulled me over while I was driving, only to find me bawling as he asked for my license.
Prove that I exist and build a home with me.
I am just an imbecile.
I will only complicate you.
Trust in me and fall as well.
I will find a center in you.
I will chew it up and leave,
I will work to elevate you
Just enough to bring you down.
I tried really hard not to feel anymore. Every time I have feelings for a guy, it hurts. It has never felt right or good. Usually I can get away with feeling bad by not caring. But when I have realizations about myself, my past and my future, I start to break down. I had another realization this weekend.
I've never not had to compete with another girl over a guy I had feelings for. I would not call myself competitive in the classical sense. It doesn't bother me to lose. But I always strive to be better than the masses. I want to rise above the horde and be seen. I want a guy to see me over this other girl's shoulder. I want to make you tilt your head so you're looking at me around her. I want to watch your head spin as you look for me in the crowd. I'm not going to fight her or put her down. I want you to make the choice of me. I want to see the gears in your mind wind up as you suffer through deciding. As you wonder what it could be like with me. If it would be better than with her. If choosing me will be the worst decision of your life. If you ask me, I'll tell you it is.
I don't believe you when you said you had a crush on me. I think you were just being nice. I'm sorry for coming on so strong. Maybe you really do like me. You asked to come over. Maybe you just want to fuck. I probably won't visit you in Costa Rica. That's beyond what I'm confident enough to do. I don't fear a lot of things, but I fear pursuing an attachment that only exists in my mind. Maybe I'll still like you in June. Maybe then you'll like me too. Maybe one day this will happen for me. And it won't hurt to want to love someone. Maybe it'll hurt forever. Maybe I'll stop crying in my car. Maybe I'll quit drifting into the oncoming lane. I had a fantasy that a cop pulled me over while I was driving, only to find me bawling as he asked for my license.
Prove that I exist and build a home with me.
19.10.14
jin rah me da
I need to know what I'm going to say to you before you go.
My friends at work made fun of me for liking you. I called you a sweetheart.
One said 'girls never go for nice guys!' And it's true.
You are nice.
And I never made a move because you deserve better than what you would get from me.
I destroy nice guys.
But I like you and never want to be the knife in your side.
I have no respect for men.
But I respect you, because all your other attributes make you admirable.
I saw a name on facebook and had a flashback of one of my worst memories. I had just turned 18 and went to work my first shift at a strip club. I somehow mixed up my days and was supposed to start the next day, so I called my friend to pick me up. He came with his girlfriend and we went to a party at his friend's house. He used to babysit me and my brother. His friend asked for my phone so he could put his number in it. I deleted it as soon as he handed it back. Another guy was there, he left the room because he liked me too and didn't like seeing this guy flirting with me. The guy who used to babysit me told me he's had a crush on me since forever. The girlfriend told me he's cheated before and her friend likes me. That was the last night I ever drank Absolut. I was the last one who went to sleep and I crawled in to bed next to the guy who gave me his number. He was passed out and wouldn't wake up, no matter how much I dragged my hands all over him. I roll over, defeated and disgusted, and sleep. In no time, I've woken up with the urge to vomit and run to the bathroom. I pass out there with my head between my knees until the morning when my friend wakes me up and drives me home.
I don't know why it tried to wake this guy up. I thought I wanted to fuck him or blow him or something but I don't know why. He wasn't cute. I was repulsed that he thought putting his number in my phone was a good way to hit on me. Maybe because my friend told me had a business and had money and he was good to girls. I'm glad he didn't wake up. I felt gross about this forever. I've never told this story to anyone before.
Anyway, I see this guy's name on facebook and he's engaged now. So in the five years since that dreadful night, he's found a woman to marry and I've still never had a boyfriend.
I hooked up with a guy last weekend that sent me text after text asking me to come over after work. I work 'til five in the morning. He asked me to come cuddle. I was nauseated. I might have hooked up with this guy again but he's getting too affectionate. And this is why I'm single forever. This is a nice guy who I can't respect and has no chance for me to feel anything for him. But I never really liked him, he just felt nice to be next to for a night. This is all he is to me. This is all any guy is to me.
But then there's you.
I want you to stay.
But if I make you, I'll hate myself.
Because I'm going to ruin you, I can't help it.
I saw you with a girl at the show last weekend. When I saw you the next day you told me how you took care of her 'til 9 in the morning because she was losing it. I laughed because this is the second time I've heard your stories of a crazy girl. I laughed and said 'you and your crazy girls...' And it kills me because I'm not that kind of crazy. I'm the wrong kind that guys don't like, the kind that's self-inflicted and secret. There's girls are fine until they go crazy for a guy. And guys eat that shit up. I told you that. I told you that's why I've never had a boyfriend, because I can't be outwardly crazy for a guy. So I will never be looked to for attachment, I'm not equipped with the same emotional foundation required to love a man as to go crazy for one. I wanted to say how you should have hung out with me instead at that show, how I was planning on asking you but I couldn't prepare myself to. You should have hung out with me because I won't make you take care of me 'til 9 in the morning.
My friends at work made fun of me for liking you. I called you a sweetheart.
One said 'girls never go for nice guys!' And it's true.
You are nice.
And I never made a move because you deserve better than what you would get from me.
I destroy nice guys.
But I like you and never want to be the knife in your side.
I have no respect for men.
But I respect you, because all your other attributes make you admirable.
I saw a name on facebook and had a flashback of one of my worst memories. I had just turned 18 and went to work my first shift at a strip club. I somehow mixed up my days and was supposed to start the next day, so I called my friend to pick me up. He came with his girlfriend and we went to a party at his friend's house. He used to babysit me and my brother. His friend asked for my phone so he could put his number in it. I deleted it as soon as he handed it back. Another guy was there, he left the room because he liked me too and didn't like seeing this guy flirting with me. The guy who used to babysit me told me he's had a crush on me since forever. The girlfriend told me he's cheated before and her friend likes me. That was the last night I ever drank Absolut. I was the last one who went to sleep and I crawled in to bed next to the guy who gave me his number. He was passed out and wouldn't wake up, no matter how much I dragged my hands all over him. I roll over, defeated and disgusted, and sleep. In no time, I've woken up with the urge to vomit and run to the bathroom. I pass out there with my head between my knees until the morning when my friend wakes me up and drives me home.
I don't know why it tried to wake this guy up. I thought I wanted to fuck him or blow him or something but I don't know why. He wasn't cute. I was repulsed that he thought putting his number in my phone was a good way to hit on me. Maybe because my friend told me had a business and had money and he was good to girls. I'm glad he didn't wake up. I felt gross about this forever. I've never told this story to anyone before.
Anyway, I see this guy's name on facebook and he's engaged now. So in the five years since that dreadful night, he's found a woman to marry and I've still never had a boyfriend.
I hooked up with a guy last weekend that sent me text after text asking me to come over after work. I work 'til five in the morning. He asked me to come cuddle. I was nauseated. I might have hooked up with this guy again but he's getting too affectionate. And this is why I'm single forever. This is a nice guy who I can't respect and has no chance for me to feel anything for him. But I never really liked him, he just felt nice to be next to for a night. This is all he is to me. This is all any guy is to me.
But then there's you.
I want you to stay.
But if I make you, I'll hate myself.
Because I'm going to ruin you, I can't help it.
I saw you with a girl at the show last weekend. When I saw you the next day you told me how you took care of her 'til 9 in the morning because she was losing it. I laughed because this is the second time I've heard your stories of a crazy girl. I laughed and said 'you and your crazy girls...' And it kills me because I'm not that kind of crazy. I'm the wrong kind that guys don't like, the kind that's self-inflicted and secret. There's girls are fine until they go crazy for a guy. And guys eat that shit up. I told you that. I told you that's why I've never had a boyfriend, because I can't be outwardly crazy for a guy. So I will never be looked to for attachment, I'm not equipped with the same emotional foundation required to love a man as to go crazy for one. I wanted to say how you should have hung out with me instead at that show, how I was planning on asking you but I couldn't prepare myself to. You should have hung out with me because I won't make you take care of me 'til 9 in the morning.
5.10.14
I feel sick.
Just a bad call,
it's so funny
how you think I'm so serious,
but that's not it
The thing is I don't give enough to give a fuck
You're just plain boring
and you bore me asleep.
It happened again.
He's leaving.
And I'll never see him again.
I wish you would just stop breaking my heart.
But it's my fault for opening up.
I never should have let you in.
How could you do that?
I let you open my doors, thinking you would block the cold.
But you left the door wide open and swinging on its hinges,
letting the frozen winter inside after you.
The space you left inside me is shaped just like you.
When you were gone, you took my insides too.
The sides slid down the pit but still there stays a hole.
And now I have nothing to fill the gap.
Because you were like no other.
Thanks so much for being one in a million, man.
Now this void is here forever.
I can make up dozens of words for "void" without a thesaurus.
It's as a part of me as my ringfinger. It's my third ventricle.
I don't mean to blame you for the grave in my chest.
It was there before you.
But I was filling it before you came and when you left, you made it deeper.
The spade I used went with you too, so now I push the dirt with my hands.
it's so funny
how you think I'm so serious,
but that's not it
The thing is I don't give enough to give a fuck
You're just plain boring
and you bore me asleep.
It happened again.
He's leaving.
And I'll never see him again.
I wish you would just stop breaking my heart.
But it's my fault for opening up.
I never should have let you in.
How could you do that?
I let you open my doors, thinking you would block the cold.
But you left the door wide open and swinging on its hinges,
letting the frozen winter inside after you.
The space you left inside me is shaped just like you.
When you were gone, you took my insides too.
The sides slid down the pit but still there stays a hole.
And now I have nothing to fill the gap.
Because you were like no other.
Thanks so much for being one in a million, man.
Now this void is here forever.
I can make up dozens of words for "void" without a thesaurus.
It's as a part of me as my ringfinger. It's my third ventricle.
I don't mean to blame you for the grave in my chest.
It was there before you.
But I was filling it before you came and when you left, you made it deeper.
The spade I used went with you too, so now I push the dirt with my hands.
3.10.14
i've gotta crush you now.
Sometime things happen in my life that just make me look at the Universe and go "are you fucking serious?"
Like this guy I've been thinking about. The one I should have spent more time with at the festival.
He's moving to another country.
Thanks life. This is the first guy in a long time I've thought I might be able to care about. The first time I've let my heart open to the possibility. I was passively reading facebook posts when I came across his that said he was moving and it felt like a train went through my chest. Tears welled in my eyes immediately. I wanted to laugh. It was so shitty but so perfect. Because every time I get this feeling for someone, something ruins it. I felt stupid. I thought it might be different. When I started crying, it felt right. Because it is the only way these things go. When the crying came on, it didn't shock me. It's all I know.
I thought I would tell him I liked him anyway. I have a month before he leaves. I saw him today at work. I couldn't tell him a thing. That I'm sad he's leaving. How I think he's one of the best people I know. How I love the colour of his eyes. And when he talked about why his nose was crooked from running into a shelf as a child, I wanted to tell him it was cute anyway. But I didn't say a word.
Then I saw my guy from Shamb. The one who broke my heart. I haven't seen him in ages. I thought I was over him. I walked past his desk to the truck in the back of the shop and barely uttered a word to him, just waved hello. Here I am, strong-willed and stoic. I know guys hate being ignored. I know it'll make him want me more.
Later in my shift, while I'm working on site, he shows up. He hugs the woman coordinating the show I'm setting up for. He reaches out to me next. He calls me 'doll.' He does this in front of my co-workers. It's like this and it doesn't matter because no one really knows but they can feel it, like a formless black presence beneath a wave. I smile and get back to work.
After some time, he comes to me again and we're alone. He asks how I've been, what I've been up to, what's new. I'm wondering why he's so curious. I think I'm an acting fantasy. He has a vision of what my life is and wants it to match to the reality. I'm not sure where we are at this point so I just talk about school. He asks if my weekend at the festival was awkward working with a co-worker he knows I hooked up with at Shamb. I never saw him there. It's never really awkward for me because I can't let it be. If I do, then I'm no longer capable of sleeping with my friends and not letting it become more. To do this, I have to be sensible enough to not let it feel awkward. It makes me laugh that he asks this. He doesn't know I've slept with that guy again. I don't know where we are right now, if it's still romantic between us or if it was a one-time thing. So I don't mention the guys I've hooked up with. We're staring into each others eyes. He keeps asking how I've been, because his rational mind is functioning below what is normal, and mine is too. It's what happens when you lock eyes with someone you love, you hypnotize each other. I looked at all the shades of brown and gold in his irises and couldn't keep up my conversation. He hugs me again as he's about to leave, he says he misses me. He turns to walk away and I say "you should have been at the festival last weekend, I missed you too." He says something about how he was supposed to go and how he really wanted to be there. He steps towards me again and said 'I totally would have smashed you' before he leaves. My toes curl in my shoes. I feel it in my knees. My co-workers are ten feet away, the possibility that they heard doesn't matter to either of us. It's almost disgusting. Sometimes I wonder what makes me like this, why I like to be spoken to in such a way. Why I seek these situations and why they are in some way the ideal. On one hand, I want to be over this guy and feel nothing for him but on the other, it's euphoric when he texts me out of nowhere that he's thinking of me and that he talks to me with an honesty I've never heard before. I'm laughing in the back of my mind because I know the story of fucking a co-worker in the back of the truck would excite him, but I kept it to myself.
If anyone reading this doesn't believe in karma, my life is bona fide proof that it is. I do well in school and work because I'm a savage. I don't do well in relationships because of the same. At work, one of my bosses calls me into his office to talk about the festival. We had returned the truck a day late and not only that but so late in the day that it caused a hiccup with the rentals we had to return. It's not my fault because I wasn't the lead, but my boss wants to know what happened. He asks if we woke up late, if I was just waiting for the guy driving to wake up that morning. I say yes. I tell him he was falling asleep while driving so I had to drive half the way home. I throw him under the fucking bus. I make myself look like a star. I don't tell my boss it's because I fucked him that night and we hardly slept.
I know it's psychotic. I know I'm four-quarters evil. I know I'm a monster. I know that I destroy the men I fuck. But it doesn't matter and I'll do it forever. I'll do it ten times for every time my heart is broken and churn the infinite cycle. Because the reason no one has ever loved me back is because of how absolutely indifferent I am to the emotional carnage I've committed on people. I had this meeting with my boss, I raked the guy I fucked over the coals for my benefit. And now the guy I like is moving, and the other keeps dangling a bait of affection on a line and every time I'm lured. It's my fault this keeps happening. And if I won't change myself to make it stop, I have to harden my heart just a bit more so that while it happens, at least it won't hurt.
Like this guy I've been thinking about. The one I should have spent more time with at the festival.
He's moving to another country.
Thanks life. This is the first guy in a long time I've thought I might be able to care about. The first time I've let my heart open to the possibility. I was passively reading facebook posts when I came across his that said he was moving and it felt like a train went through my chest. Tears welled in my eyes immediately. I wanted to laugh. It was so shitty but so perfect. Because every time I get this feeling for someone, something ruins it. I felt stupid. I thought it might be different. When I started crying, it felt right. Because it is the only way these things go. When the crying came on, it didn't shock me. It's all I know.
I thought I would tell him I liked him anyway. I have a month before he leaves. I saw him today at work. I couldn't tell him a thing. That I'm sad he's leaving. How I think he's one of the best people I know. How I love the colour of his eyes. And when he talked about why his nose was crooked from running into a shelf as a child, I wanted to tell him it was cute anyway. But I didn't say a word.
Then I saw my guy from Shamb. The one who broke my heart. I haven't seen him in ages. I thought I was over him. I walked past his desk to the truck in the back of the shop and barely uttered a word to him, just waved hello. Here I am, strong-willed and stoic. I know guys hate being ignored. I know it'll make him want me more.
Later in my shift, while I'm working on site, he shows up. He hugs the woman coordinating the show I'm setting up for. He reaches out to me next. He calls me 'doll.' He does this in front of my co-workers. It's like this and it doesn't matter because no one really knows but they can feel it, like a formless black presence beneath a wave. I smile and get back to work.
After some time, he comes to me again and we're alone. He asks how I've been, what I've been up to, what's new. I'm wondering why he's so curious. I think I'm an acting fantasy. He has a vision of what my life is and wants it to match to the reality. I'm not sure where we are at this point so I just talk about school. He asks if my weekend at the festival was awkward working with a co-worker he knows I hooked up with at Shamb. I never saw him there. It's never really awkward for me because I can't let it be. If I do, then I'm no longer capable of sleeping with my friends and not letting it become more. To do this, I have to be sensible enough to not let it feel awkward. It makes me laugh that he asks this. He doesn't know I've slept with that guy again. I don't know where we are right now, if it's still romantic between us or if it was a one-time thing. So I don't mention the guys I've hooked up with. We're staring into each others eyes. He keeps asking how I've been, because his rational mind is functioning below what is normal, and mine is too. It's what happens when you lock eyes with someone you love, you hypnotize each other. I looked at all the shades of brown and gold in his irises and couldn't keep up my conversation. He hugs me again as he's about to leave, he says he misses me. He turns to walk away and I say "you should have been at the festival last weekend, I missed you too." He says something about how he was supposed to go and how he really wanted to be there. He steps towards me again and said 'I totally would have smashed you' before he leaves. My toes curl in my shoes. I feel it in my knees. My co-workers are ten feet away, the possibility that they heard doesn't matter to either of us. It's almost disgusting. Sometimes I wonder what makes me like this, why I like to be spoken to in such a way. Why I seek these situations and why they are in some way the ideal. On one hand, I want to be over this guy and feel nothing for him but on the other, it's euphoric when he texts me out of nowhere that he's thinking of me and that he talks to me with an honesty I've never heard before. I'm laughing in the back of my mind because I know the story of fucking a co-worker in the back of the truck would excite him, but I kept it to myself.
If anyone reading this doesn't believe in karma, my life is bona fide proof that it is. I do well in school and work because I'm a savage. I don't do well in relationships because of the same. At work, one of my bosses calls me into his office to talk about the festival. We had returned the truck a day late and not only that but so late in the day that it caused a hiccup with the rentals we had to return. It's not my fault because I wasn't the lead, but my boss wants to know what happened. He asks if we woke up late, if I was just waiting for the guy driving to wake up that morning. I say yes. I tell him he was falling asleep while driving so I had to drive half the way home. I throw him under the fucking bus. I make myself look like a star. I don't tell my boss it's because I fucked him that night and we hardly slept.
I know it's psychotic. I know I'm four-quarters evil. I know I'm a monster. I know that I destroy the men I fuck. But it doesn't matter and I'll do it forever. I'll do it ten times for every time my heart is broken and churn the infinite cycle. Because the reason no one has ever loved me back is because of how absolutely indifferent I am to the emotional carnage I've committed on people. I had this meeting with my boss, I raked the guy I fucked over the coals for my benefit. And now the guy I like is moving, and the other keeps dangling a bait of affection on a line and every time I'm lured. It's my fault this keeps happening. And if I won't change myself to make it stop, I have to harden my heart just a bit more so that while it happens, at least it won't hurt.
30.9.14
she's a giggle at a funeral.
I was outside my friend's house with a group when we started talking about love.
I asked if it meant that I'd been in love if I had my heart broken.
Because I've felt it.
They said yes because it meant my heart was in it.
I didn't tell them both times it was a guy who loved someone else.
Whether that makes a difference or not is irrelevant.
I've only been in love with guys who loved another girl.
Right when I thought my heart was back together, you texted me out of the blue.
You called me babe. You signed it with 'xo.'
I know your life is whole without me. I don't know why you did that.
I tried to erase you further by laying another guy.
Riding in the passenger seat of a five ton truck with a guy I just met, I went to work at another festival. We left on Wednesday morning. On Sunday night, I fucked him in the back of that truck.
I don't feel anything about it. I don't really like the guy. He's not hideous, he's not a model. But he had muscles. That's all that matters in the dark when you only see with your hands.
It might have been awkward the day after. I realized it only ever is because I wake up next to them. I promise myself that never again will I wake up in another guy's arms. Not any of these emotionally void hook-ups anyway.
I thought I had a logical grasp on my behaviour. I like hooking up. I want to fuck everyone in the world. And I'm subverting all the standards society has for me. The ones that expect me to preserve myself for deserving eyes, like some flower pressed in a book. But saving myself for special people... how does that benefit me? At the end of the day I still fall for guys who have already fallen for others. At the very least I can get some physical enjoyment from being depraved. And I'm not ashamed. I just feel a little sick because I might like someone else.
I finished my last shift at 8 on Saturday night. I was unhappy because the music was lame. And my brain was still adjusting from the MDMA from the night before. He gave me a bump of ketamine and I felt better. He gave me another and I k-holed.
We were in the green room which was basically just a tall tent. We left to go back to the sound board to sit but I couldn't walk. I saw a chair and hoped that when I dropped down I would fall into it. I wasn't certain I would.
I sat for ages. I tried to figure out where I was and couldn't place it. I saw the shelter that covered the sound board in the distance and I saw the shape of the stage in front of me. I wasn't able to make myself stand to walk to the sound board where I knew my friend was, but I kept trying to force myself. I felt like I was in an actual hole. Trying to figure out my setting, I was only seeing in one dimension. It was like looking into a painting; no actual depth, just the illusion of it. I could see where I wanted to go but I knew if I stood, it would become infinitely distant. Another guy I had been working with saw me, and must have asked if I was alright. I think I smiled and said I'm fine, or maybe that I did too much of something but I would be okay. I remember talking about his roommate, who I knew. I remember him kissing me on the cheek to comfort me. He could tell I was a chaotic mess. He left and I stayed in the chair, clutching the cup that held my drink. It felt strange in my hand, like it would become soft and fall if my fist wasn't clenched. I spilled some of it. I had some strange thoughts about dying.
My friend came back and asked where I'd been. My mouth is numb at this point, like I'd been anesthetized. My tongue feels too big for my mouth, or like I have no control over it. He takes me by the hand and bring me back to the sound board. He has to pull me because I'm walking in zigzags and have spilled the majority of my drink as I do. We sit and I wait for the high to pass. People keep trying to talk to me and I make attempts but my paralyzed mouth is lagging behind my mind. I know what I'm trying to say but the words aren't quite spitting out. I decide to look straight ahead. I want to tell my friend to hold me, like it's the only thing I know will help. But I don't. A part of my brain is telling me how I don't need any guy's help. How I will always be there to save myself. And how being in a k-hole in front of my co-workers in not nearly as embarrassing as it would be to ask this guy to hold me, like a child. I'm tired but I don't want to go to bed because I'm scared I won't wake up and I don't want to waste the last night of the festival.
It's about 10:30 when I start to feel sane again. Another good friend who I did the M with the night before comes over and asks if I'll come hang out with him. He's just done some acid. He's one of my real buddies. "I'll bring her back," he says to the guy I'm sitting with. We walk arm in arm to the other stage. We dance together in the crowd and I really start to feel better. When he wants to move spots, he grabs my hand and we walk. The way it feels when he holds my hand is healing a spot in my chest that's been black for years. The next time he takes my hand, I interlock my fingers in his. I think it makes him uncomfortable.
We go back to the other stage and I sit with my other friend by the board. It's cold, so we huddle up close with his arm around me. I want to go dance with the other guy, but this one is so warm. I kind of regret not spending more time with the other guy. He came by to talk while I was cuddled up to this one and I felt like an idiot. Because everyone sees me as being in love with this guy I work with, but I'm really just cold and maybe want to hook-up. We do eventually, the next night.
Now I realize I might have fucked up this time. I think I might actually like the guy I held hands with. I think about him a lot. We talked about music and he told me things that made me laugh and realize how alike we were. The number one reason I think I might like him is because I don't want to sleep with him, because I know it will ruin everything. I need this guy to be my friend, he's one of my favourite people. If I fuck him, I'll destroy him. It makes me sad because he's seen me with the other guy and can only assume I've slept with him. So I can't imagine he would like me much after knowing that. This is my downfall. Of living in a world where men I might have a romantic interest in would look down on me for sleeping with a new guy every time. And for sleeping with several guys in our workplace. I wonder if it's possible that he might understand I look at sex like a game. I could only hope he would, being a weirdo like me.
I suppose it's fine if he doesn't understand because I can't be with someone who wouldn't.
she tells me "worship in the bedroom."
I asked if it meant that I'd been in love if I had my heart broken.
Because I've felt it.
They said yes because it meant my heart was in it.
I didn't tell them both times it was a guy who loved someone else.
Whether that makes a difference or not is irrelevant.
I've only been in love with guys who loved another girl.
Right when I thought my heart was back together, you texted me out of the blue.
You called me babe. You signed it with 'xo.'
I know your life is whole without me. I don't know why you did that.
I tried to erase you further by laying another guy.
Riding in the passenger seat of a five ton truck with a guy I just met, I went to work at another festival. We left on Wednesday morning. On Sunday night, I fucked him in the back of that truck.
I don't feel anything about it. I don't really like the guy. He's not hideous, he's not a model. But he had muscles. That's all that matters in the dark when you only see with your hands.
It might have been awkward the day after. I realized it only ever is because I wake up next to them. I promise myself that never again will I wake up in another guy's arms. Not any of these emotionally void hook-ups anyway.
I thought I had a logical grasp on my behaviour. I like hooking up. I want to fuck everyone in the world. And I'm subverting all the standards society has for me. The ones that expect me to preserve myself for deserving eyes, like some flower pressed in a book. But saving myself for special people... how does that benefit me? At the end of the day I still fall for guys who have already fallen for others. At the very least I can get some physical enjoyment from being depraved. And I'm not ashamed. I just feel a little sick because I might like someone else.
I finished my last shift at 8 on Saturday night. I was unhappy because the music was lame. And my brain was still adjusting from the MDMA from the night before. He gave me a bump of ketamine and I felt better. He gave me another and I k-holed.
We were in the green room which was basically just a tall tent. We left to go back to the sound board to sit but I couldn't walk. I saw a chair and hoped that when I dropped down I would fall into it. I wasn't certain I would.
I sat for ages. I tried to figure out where I was and couldn't place it. I saw the shelter that covered the sound board in the distance and I saw the shape of the stage in front of me. I wasn't able to make myself stand to walk to the sound board where I knew my friend was, but I kept trying to force myself. I felt like I was in an actual hole. Trying to figure out my setting, I was only seeing in one dimension. It was like looking into a painting; no actual depth, just the illusion of it. I could see where I wanted to go but I knew if I stood, it would become infinitely distant. Another guy I had been working with saw me, and must have asked if I was alright. I think I smiled and said I'm fine, or maybe that I did too much of something but I would be okay. I remember talking about his roommate, who I knew. I remember him kissing me on the cheek to comfort me. He could tell I was a chaotic mess. He left and I stayed in the chair, clutching the cup that held my drink. It felt strange in my hand, like it would become soft and fall if my fist wasn't clenched. I spilled some of it. I had some strange thoughts about dying.
My friend came back and asked where I'd been. My mouth is numb at this point, like I'd been anesthetized. My tongue feels too big for my mouth, or like I have no control over it. He takes me by the hand and bring me back to the sound board. He has to pull me because I'm walking in zigzags and have spilled the majority of my drink as I do. We sit and I wait for the high to pass. People keep trying to talk to me and I make attempts but my paralyzed mouth is lagging behind my mind. I know what I'm trying to say but the words aren't quite spitting out. I decide to look straight ahead. I want to tell my friend to hold me, like it's the only thing I know will help. But I don't. A part of my brain is telling me how I don't need any guy's help. How I will always be there to save myself. And how being in a k-hole in front of my co-workers in not nearly as embarrassing as it would be to ask this guy to hold me, like a child. I'm tired but I don't want to go to bed because I'm scared I won't wake up and I don't want to waste the last night of the festival.
It's about 10:30 when I start to feel sane again. Another good friend who I did the M with the night before comes over and asks if I'll come hang out with him. He's just done some acid. He's one of my real buddies. "I'll bring her back," he says to the guy I'm sitting with. We walk arm in arm to the other stage. We dance together in the crowd and I really start to feel better. When he wants to move spots, he grabs my hand and we walk. The way it feels when he holds my hand is healing a spot in my chest that's been black for years. The next time he takes my hand, I interlock my fingers in his. I think it makes him uncomfortable.
We go back to the other stage and I sit with my other friend by the board. It's cold, so we huddle up close with his arm around me. I want to go dance with the other guy, but this one is so warm. I kind of regret not spending more time with the other guy. He came by to talk while I was cuddled up to this one and I felt like an idiot. Because everyone sees me as being in love with this guy I work with, but I'm really just cold and maybe want to hook-up. We do eventually, the next night.
Now I realize I might have fucked up this time. I think I might actually like the guy I held hands with. I think about him a lot. We talked about music and he told me things that made me laugh and realize how alike we were. The number one reason I think I might like him is because I don't want to sleep with him, because I know it will ruin everything. I need this guy to be my friend, he's one of my favourite people. If I fuck him, I'll destroy him. It makes me sad because he's seen me with the other guy and can only assume I've slept with him. So I can't imagine he would like me much after knowing that. This is my downfall. Of living in a world where men I might have a romantic interest in would look down on me for sleeping with a new guy every time. And for sleeping with several guys in our workplace. I wonder if it's possible that he might understand I look at sex like a game. I could only hope he would, being a weirdo like me.
I suppose it's fine if he doesn't understand because I can't be with someone who wouldn't.
she tells me "worship in the bedroom."
9.9.14
fuck the pain away
Every guy I've ever been with left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I'm stuck in a cycle of using new guys to wash out the taste of the last one.
I realized why I've never had a boyfriend.
It's because every guy I've ever wanted to date was dating someone else already.
And all they wanted from me was sex.
Then there would come a time when they wanted more.
But by then I would only have one thing to give.
I'm on a mission.
I want as many people as possible.
I thought sleeping with guys once wasn't making me happy.
So I tried you twice.
And now I'm upset that I slept with you when I could have been fucking someone new.
I thought it would help me forget about him.
But it made the hurt come back.
I thought it would help knowing he was no longer the last guy I slept with.
Now I wish he still was.
I'm promising myself now that it's never happening again.
Because I'm weak and if I don't put it in writing I'll have another relapse.
I think I have a problem.
I have gone against my biology for so long that my body is fighting back.
Every word you speak to me is venom
And crushed is every piece of me beneath you
In your fists I am a sandstone cracking
Between the lines upon your palm I've stained you
i dont know what this means
I'm stuck in a cycle of using new guys to wash out the taste of the last one.
I realized why I've never had a boyfriend.
It's because every guy I've ever wanted to date was dating someone else already.
And all they wanted from me was sex.
Then there would come a time when they wanted more.
But by then I would only have one thing to give.
I'm on a mission.
I want as many people as possible.
I thought sleeping with guys once wasn't making me happy.
So I tried you twice.
And now I'm upset that I slept with you when I could have been fucking someone new.
I thought it would help me forget about him.
But it made the hurt come back.
I thought it would help knowing he was no longer the last guy I slept with.
Now I wish he still was.
I'm promising myself now that it's never happening again.
Because I'm weak and if I don't put it in writing I'll have another relapse.
I think I have a problem.
I have gone against my biology for so long that my body is fighting back.
Every word you speak to me is venom
And crushed is every piece of me beneath you
In your fists I am a sandstone cracking
Between the lines upon your palm I've stained you
i dont know what this means
26.8.14
I just wanna make it through one more night.
take this love and waste it
take this love and taste it
take this love and learn it
take this love and burn it
take this pain and use it
take this peach and bruise it
take this coke and snort it
take this babe, abort it
take this cig and smoke it
take this bear and poke it
take this cheque and cash it
take this head and bash it
take this wall and build it
take this lie and gild it
take this smile and fake it
take this heart and break it
take this card and send it
take this tale and end it
take this love and taste it
take this love and learn it
take this love and burn it
take this pain and use it
take this peach and bruise it
take this coke and snort it
take this babe, abort it
take this cig and smoke it
take this bear and poke it
take this cheque and cash it
take this head and bash it
take this wall and build it
take this lie and gild it
take this home and wreck it
take this road and trek ittake this smile and fake it
take this heart and break it
take this card and send it
take this tale and end it
24.8.14
If I had known that you were only here for the weekend, I would have been so much nicer.
I've finally started to put myself together after Shambhala. Every time someone asked me how it was I say, ``it was so much fun, but I had my heart broken and came back a disaster.`` My pieces are starting to come back together though.
I fell apart because I took on more than I could take as a person with the emotional maturity of a toddler. My success in separating the sex and love sections of my brain fooled me into thinking I could never be hurt by a guy I slept with for fun. As long as they played the same game. But then they started nipping at my feet, yearning for more and pushing them away felt like kicking puppies. I had a goal to sleep with a different guy every night of Shamb. I only made it to two and it became too complicated.
My first guy was my consolation prize, because the one I wanted was unavailable. I met a girl who I thought was his girlfriend. She was gorgeous and she hugged me when she met me. I considered smashing my cranium into the wooden structure I was leaning against but thought better of it and went to go dance. I told myself I would cry myself to sleep when I got back to my tent and I`d feel fine in the morning. I forgot to cry.
In the morning, I ran the system for a yoga session and cried the whole time as I sat on the grass by my little sound board. I kept my scarf high and my sunglasses on and tried to breathe with the lesson. Some part of me still hoped someone would see and ask me if I was alright but as hidden as I made myself, there was no way in reality it could have happened. And it didn`t. And that`s sort of the way it has always been with me.
As I work throughout the day, I feel a little better. I see some awesome bands and do my job and get praise for my work. I take a shower in the Village and listen to one of my friend's sets as the water washes away the filth of the farm. I dress up nice and dance for a bit. The guy I like steps in front of me in the crowd so I poke him. He turns around and hugs me and kisses my forehead. Every time he does this it feels like there's a butterfly flapping around my stomach while a knife is being twisted into it. I walk back to camp to get my hoop. I walk past someone and he says "Wow, we have been graced with the most beautiful girl at Shambhala!" and I smile for the first time that day. I hoop for a bit then head to Fractal to drink a few beers before Excision. My guy is there. And he says "I'd like you to meet my fiancee..." This time I have no desire to smash my head into anything solid. I felt all the pain I could about this problem when I thought I'd met the girl yesterday. When I met the true girlfriend this time, I smiled wide and said "oh my god its so nice to meet you!" It wasn't fake. This is a girl he loves who I know makes him happy, and it made me happy. My more evil side showed when I realized I was also happy that she wasn't as pretty as the girl from the night before. I think about it now and realize I should have known then that I actually felt something for this guy and wasn't just trying to fuck him. But my consolation prize is here, so I chat with him to make the other guy jealous and down a few beers before going to Excision to throw my body into a crowd and stop thinking for an hour and a half. Someone walks up while I'm dancing and asks how I'm doing, I smile and say 'great!' He says 'just making sure, I haven't seen you smile all night." I go back to my tent to sleep at 4 in the morning and run into consolation prize. He wants to sleep together again but all I want is to sleep alone. It takes him ten minutes to finally deduce he can't shake me down. My status as an emotional bomb shelter remains. But it still feels like I'm using the knife that twists in my stomach to cut the guy I've been with before. I feel like crying but don't.
I wake up in the morning and can't figure out how to feel, so I cut myself for the first time in a year with my Leatherman. My pieces are falling further apart. That night I meet another guy at my stage. He says I'm doing a great job and asks how I am. I smile wide and say I'm good. He says "That's the first time I've seen you smile, you have a beautiful smile." I talk to him for a bit, I'm a little drunk and working through the last changeover of my shift. A girl asks him to sit next to her and he does but he still talks to me. Consolation prize shows up. I'm obviously annoyed that he interrupts me talking to a guy and give him short answers, and he goes "Good talk." I say something about checking the last changeover and bolt. I realized the only reason I feel guilty is because of how pushy this guy has gotten. I suppose there's something to be said for being straightforward with a guy and telling them they're only good for one thing, but I'm hoping he picks up on it instead. He tried to be a gentleman, thinking I'm the type of girl that needs to be doted on. But I take it as aggression. His pushiness really starts to irk me and I'm pissed that he's appeared when I try to chat up another guy. And the nerve to say 'good talk' with attitude, like I owe him a conversation right at that moment. I fucking hate guys.
I felt sad again yesterday because I had passed up on that guy I met at my stage because I was so enamored with this other one. I wonder what must be wrong with me to pursue an engaged man when there's a perfectly good available one plopped in front of me, like the Universe is saying "here! take this instead!" I really need to start listening to the messages the Universe is sending me.
Shambhala is a place you are supposed to go with an open heart, soul and mind. You're supposed to show your true self and explode outwardly. I opened my heart to one single person and he broke it. Technically though I broke it myself, since I never should have shared it with him. I hid my feelings from everyone and I felt lonelier than ever in a crowd of 15 000.
I fell apart because I took on more than I could take as a person with the emotional maturity of a toddler. My success in separating the sex and love sections of my brain fooled me into thinking I could never be hurt by a guy I slept with for fun. As long as they played the same game. But then they started nipping at my feet, yearning for more and pushing them away felt like kicking puppies. I had a goal to sleep with a different guy every night of Shamb. I only made it to two and it became too complicated.
My first guy was my consolation prize, because the one I wanted was unavailable. I met a girl who I thought was his girlfriend. She was gorgeous and she hugged me when she met me. I considered smashing my cranium into the wooden structure I was leaning against but thought better of it and went to go dance. I told myself I would cry myself to sleep when I got back to my tent and I`d feel fine in the morning. I forgot to cry.
In the morning, I ran the system for a yoga session and cried the whole time as I sat on the grass by my little sound board. I kept my scarf high and my sunglasses on and tried to breathe with the lesson. Some part of me still hoped someone would see and ask me if I was alright but as hidden as I made myself, there was no way in reality it could have happened. And it didn`t. And that`s sort of the way it has always been with me.
As I work throughout the day, I feel a little better. I see some awesome bands and do my job and get praise for my work. I take a shower in the Village and listen to one of my friend's sets as the water washes away the filth of the farm. I dress up nice and dance for a bit. The guy I like steps in front of me in the crowd so I poke him. He turns around and hugs me and kisses my forehead. Every time he does this it feels like there's a butterfly flapping around my stomach while a knife is being twisted into it. I walk back to camp to get my hoop. I walk past someone and he says "Wow, we have been graced with the most beautiful girl at Shambhala!" and I smile for the first time that day. I hoop for a bit then head to Fractal to drink a few beers before Excision. My guy is there. And he says "I'd like you to meet my fiancee..." This time I have no desire to smash my head into anything solid. I felt all the pain I could about this problem when I thought I'd met the girl yesterday. When I met the true girlfriend this time, I smiled wide and said "oh my god its so nice to meet you!" It wasn't fake. This is a girl he loves who I know makes him happy, and it made me happy. My more evil side showed when I realized I was also happy that she wasn't as pretty as the girl from the night before. I think about it now and realize I should have known then that I actually felt something for this guy and wasn't just trying to fuck him. But my consolation prize is here, so I chat with him to make the other guy jealous and down a few beers before going to Excision to throw my body into a crowd and stop thinking for an hour and a half. Someone walks up while I'm dancing and asks how I'm doing, I smile and say 'great!' He says 'just making sure, I haven't seen you smile all night." I go back to my tent to sleep at 4 in the morning and run into consolation prize. He wants to sleep together again but all I want is to sleep alone. It takes him ten minutes to finally deduce he can't shake me down. My status as an emotional bomb shelter remains. But it still feels like I'm using the knife that twists in my stomach to cut the guy I've been with before. I feel like crying but don't.
I wake up in the morning and can't figure out how to feel, so I cut myself for the first time in a year with my Leatherman. My pieces are falling further apart. That night I meet another guy at my stage. He says I'm doing a great job and asks how I am. I smile wide and say I'm good. He says "That's the first time I've seen you smile, you have a beautiful smile." I talk to him for a bit, I'm a little drunk and working through the last changeover of my shift. A girl asks him to sit next to her and he does but he still talks to me. Consolation prize shows up. I'm obviously annoyed that he interrupts me talking to a guy and give him short answers, and he goes "Good talk." I say something about checking the last changeover and bolt. I realized the only reason I feel guilty is because of how pushy this guy has gotten. I suppose there's something to be said for being straightforward with a guy and telling them they're only good for one thing, but I'm hoping he picks up on it instead. He tried to be a gentleman, thinking I'm the type of girl that needs to be doted on. But I take it as aggression. His pushiness really starts to irk me and I'm pissed that he's appeared when I try to chat up another guy. And the nerve to say 'good talk' with attitude, like I owe him a conversation right at that moment. I fucking hate guys.
I felt sad again yesterday because I had passed up on that guy I met at my stage because I was so enamored with this other one. I wonder what must be wrong with me to pursue an engaged man when there's a perfectly good available one plopped in front of me, like the Universe is saying "here! take this instead!" I really need to start listening to the messages the Universe is sending me.
Shambhala is a place you are supposed to go with an open heart, soul and mind. You're supposed to show your true self and explode outwardly. I opened my heart to one single person and he broke it. Technically though I broke it myself, since I never should have shared it with him. I hid my feelings from everyone and I felt lonelier than ever in a crowd of 15 000.
17.8.14
I really wish these snakes were your arms
What am I supposed to do with this pain?
One day, girl, you'll know what to do.
One day it will make sense to you.
For now it can become my stories, my movies, my songs.
But my art is dark and savage.
I take pain and turn it black.
It never gets used for good, so my pain begets more pain.
It never goes away.
How do people take pain and use it to grow?
Pain has only buried me deeper.
One day, girl, you won't be alone.
I'm tired of hearing that I am terrifying.
I'm a monster.
I need someone who isn't stricken with fear by my lack of feeling.
I make them all think I have no feelings and then they came out for you and I wanted to be sick.
I feel like I should tell you that my heart is broken because of you.
But then you'll know my secret;
That I do feel things.
One day I'll know what being happy means
But I know I'll never be happy with what I have.
I don't want to find someone I have to hide my demons from, I just want someone whose demons will play well with mine.
One day, girl, you'll know what to do.
One day it will make sense to you.
For now it can become my stories, my movies, my songs.
But my art is dark and savage.
I take pain and turn it black.
It never gets used for good, so my pain begets more pain.
It never goes away.
How do people take pain and use it to grow?
Pain has only buried me deeper.
One day, girl, you won't be alone.
I'm tired of hearing that I am terrifying.
I'm a monster.
I need someone who isn't stricken with fear by my lack of feeling.
I make them all think I have no feelings and then they came out for you and I wanted to be sick.
I feel like I should tell you that my heart is broken because of you.
But then you'll know my secret;
That I do feel things.
One day I'll know what being happy means
But I know I'll never be happy with what I have.
I don't want to find someone I have to hide my demons from, I just want someone whose demons will play well with mine.
15.8.14
In my darkest moments, I held my own hand
What have I done
This is pain
And it is real.
Before I even did anything I thought 'This is gonna hurt'
And it did.
I hate being right sometimes.
But I deserve all of this.
I keep thinking 'one day, Kaylee, one day'
But what if never?
I'm prepared to be alone forever.
I've laid the stone and cured the concrete
My heart is hard and can't be touched by outside hands.
But I keep ripping into it myself.
And it's broken again, now what do I have left to put it back together?
I can write to get it out of me. To hem the frayed edges of my heart.
Then I'll stitch it back together and bury it again.
The problem with a buried heart is it never sees the light and turns black.
Though it will stay together and keep longer.
Which is really all I need.
This is pain
And it is real.
Before I even did anything I thought 'This is gonna hurt'
And it did.
I hate being right sometimes.
But I deserve all of this.
I keep thinking 'one day, Kaylee, one day'
But what if never?
I'm prepared to be alone forever.
I've laid the stone and cured the concrete
My heart is hard and can't be touched by outside hands.
But I keep ripping into it myself.
And it's broken again, now what do I have left to put it back together?
I can write to get it out of me. To hem the frayed edges of my heart.
Then I'll stitch it back together and bury it again.
The problem with a buried heart is it never sees the light and turns black.
Though it will stay together and keep longer.
Which is really all I need.
15.5.14
carved carcasses in the garage; don't park in it
My trip to the Dominican changed my life. I saw my worst demons face to face. I had realizations about myself that were always there, just below the surface, and going on this trip helped me dig them up. Like realizing I carry much more negativity within me then I thought. To cope with my bad feelings, I became one with them. I turned myself into them so that being unhappy became my baseline. It was easier to accept being miserable than it was to fight it. After having my sanity turned upside down over the slightest bump in the road, I have come to know that the darkness inside of me is more than I should allow. This darkness isn`t me not wanting to go to parties or smile at everyone at school. It`s hating my body, it`s hurting myself physically, it`s making judgements on other people on a constant basis. It`s being unreasonably okay with the thought that I could die within any given moment. It`s thinking I can`t be social because I like to be alone.
I`m starting to make changes to get these things. I`ve been looking both ways before I cross the street. I`ve stopped trying to have a cute laugh or look cool in front of everyone at school, at work, everywhere. I`m smiling more. I still need to figure out how to stop hating my body. I`ll try to take better care of it and stop feeding it garbage. And I want to accept that it`s the one I`ve been given and only I have the authority to change it. Then there`s the fact that I have a debilitating obsession with having control. When I lose it in a situation, I get anxious and lose most of my functionality. There has to be a way to let go of this, but I fear it`s another personality trait that`s ingrained. I`m still working on it.
I`ve considered feminism my hill to die on for a while but haven`t done much to affect change in this area. I came back motivated to do more. For whatever reason, I`m very affected by other people`s words and their impressions of me. Some of the biggest turns in my life were catalyzed by the words of someone else. Someone on the retreat asked me what Canadians thought of feminism and I told them I wasn`t sure, but I certainly was a feminist and gave a few reasons why, off the top of my head. But I thought about it later and realized I didn`t say nearly enough that I wanted to. So I wrote out all the reasons why I consider myself a feminist and there`s a lot of battles on that list and I really want to start fighting them. I learned on this trip that I am capable of making friends and having a good social life while also spending a lot time by myself. I do want more friends. I just have to keep finding more people who won`t make me feel like I`m fucking weird for enjoying my alone time.
I`m starting to make changes to get these things. I`ve been looking both ways before I cross the street. I`ve stopped trying to have a cute laugh or look cool in front of everyone at school, at work, everywhere. I`m smiling more. I still need to figure out how to stop hating my body. I`ll try to take better care of it and stop feeding it garbage. And I want to accept that it`s the one I`ve been given and only I have the authority to change it. Then there`s the fact that I have a debilitating obsession with having control. When I lose it in a situation, I get anxious and lose most of my functionality. There has to be a way to let go of this, but I fear it`s another personality trait that`s ingrained. I`m still working on it.
I`ve considered feminism my hill to die on for a while but haven`t done much to affect change in this area. I came back motivated to do more. For whatever reason, I`m very affected by other people`s words and their impressions of me. Some of the biggest turns in my life were catalyzed by the words of someone else. Someone on the retreat asked me what Canadians thought of feminism and I told them I wasn`t sure, but I certainly was a feminist and gave a few reasons why, off the top of my head. But I thought about it later and realized I didn`t say nearly enough that I wanted to. So I wrote out all the reasons why I consider myself a feminist and there`s a lot of battles on that list and I really want to start fighting them. I learned on this trip that I am capable of making friends and having a good social life while also spending a lot time by myself. I do want more friends. I just have to keep finding more people who won`t make me feel like I`m fucking weird for enjoying my alone time.
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