i wish i could let myself just enjoy something....and not over-analyze it and beat it to death, and end up at the conclusion that i'm just a slut for giving in, and letting him go there.
.....
.....
i wish i expected more from men. maybe then when a guy pays a mild amount of attention to me, i wouldn't be in shock. and if they remember anything...anything at all that i've said, i wouldn't be absolute putty in their hands.
.....
.....
i wish i understood why despite everything i'm told by people who i know and love, i'm single with not even a possible prospect in sight.
.....
.....
i wish i could go back, and just end it all...before i became completely paltry and he ran away with every last ounce of the best of me.
.....
.....
i wish i went to nyu. things would be so much different now. i wouldn't be clinging for dear life to three people who are too far away to truly be there...and i could be the friend they deserve.
.....
.....
i wish my parents knew me.......i wish i could let them know me, but i can't take them being that disappointed in me.
.....
.....
i wish when other people fucked me over, i wouldn't feel like utter shit for thinking negatively about them.
.....
.....
i wish i was beautiful......on the inside and out.
i don't know how long i can hold my heart in two
Monday, July 17, 2006
resignation from bitch status
to whom it may concern:
greetings and salutations from a bitter cynical female who wants nothing more than to have her cake, all the while never opening up one bit or being put in a position that compromised her, made her overstep whatever bounds she created, or have to take a single leap of faith.
basically, howdy from the girl who wants to live in the formulaic hollywood romance film where girl meets guy, guy falls head over heels for girl, and guy does anything and everything in his power to get girl...all the while, girl galivantes around and puts up an amass of obstacles, which he overcomes deliciously, effortlessly, and with little bitching or moaning....aka me, e.
i'm writing today to effectuate my resignation from the post of "unpenetrable bitch," with a slight amount of chagrin, an upheavel of my own malice, and a tear for the derisive persona i so effortlessly embodied when it came to all matters of the fleshy pink heart.
why?
for one, i realize that reality isn't as black and white as i would love it to be. i, myself, exist in shades of gray...and it's unfair and detrimental to think that anything or anyone else would exist otherwise. things aren't always what they seem, and things don't always have some hidden meaning. people always don't have some hidden agenda, or self serving purpose in their dealings with me.
even if most, to this point, have...
in the end, what's a girl to do when all of her erected white castles and shimmering reveries are carelessly knocked down and shattered by the very people that helped erect them, as well as herself, and everything has crumbled into a bleeding mess of fear, cynicism, and a sinking disbelief in anything worthwhile in the romance department ever happening?
there are two avenues: the boulverad of the broken soul who aches for someone to place a band-aid gently on her wounds, or the alley of dismissing even the most promising possibility and existing in singular.
for too long i've enclosed myself in an alleyway emblazoned with echoes of the past and daubed with the re-occuring scenes of my own heart break and let downs. i've let the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and the feelings that characterized the "then" translate into my outlook on the "now." i've let myself get stuck on the stepping stones of learning, rather than progressing and adding these experiences to the erudition of life.
arguably, i did so with just cause...but it's time i grew up, i fear. i'm a loner, yes...but i'm no fool. a hopeless, chimerical, silly little girl with matrimony and children pitter pattering up her list of goals and wants can only live so long under the auspices of a tattered and torn past.
and that is why i must resign. that is why i can no longer fill the position i've dutifully served for the past three years. that is why i am taking the tattered pieces of my past and refurbishing them into the pathway i need to take to allow my broken soul to find that someone who will dress my wounds.
or at least give someone the chance to try and dress them.
maybe i'm jumping too far into things, and maybe i should simply place a toe in first to check the water before i swan dive right in, but i'm tired of my own self-restraint, and i'm exhausted with constantly trying to keep myself at a distance and avidly avoiding opening up, and giving in.
i'm going to take this leap of faith.
why?
because i enjoy being around him; because its strange how comfortable i am around him; because he embodies crucial aspects of what i'm looking for; because i'm one hundred percent me around him and find it easy to find myself saying more than what i would usually allow; because in the week i've known him i've felt more protected than i ever have...
because i want to.
it's time i let my heart tell my head to fuck off.......not completely, but..well, maybe give it a bit more clout in these things.
regards,
-e
to the powers that be:
if it's wrong let him realize his mistake before i delve too far...let him come to his senses about me and let him see me for what i really am, or let him come to terms with the reality that much better exists.
please don't let me fuck this up, or please let it be over soon...before i let myself fall too far...before i voice my palpitating joys and fluttering aspirations that i just don't want to ignore.
i may be audacious enough to take this leap of faith, but i am, afterall, new to all this. go easy on me.
best wishes
-e
greetings and salutations from a bitter cynical female who wants nothing more than to have her cake, all the while never opening up one bit or being put in a position that compromised her, made her overstep whatever bounds she created, or have to take a single leap of faith.
basically, howdy from the girl who wants to live in the formulaic hollywood romance film where girl meets guy, guy falls head over heels for girl, and guy does anything and everything in his power to get girl...all the while, girl galivantes around and puts up an amass of obstacles, which he overcomes deliciously, effortlessly, and with little bitching or moaning....aka me, e.
i'm writing today to effectuate my resignation from the post of "unpenetrable bitch," with a slight amount of chagrin, an upheavel of my own malice, and a tear for the derisive persona i so effortlessly embodied when it came to all matters of the fleshy pink heart.
why?
for one, i realize that reality isn't as black and white as i would love it to be. i, myself, exist in shades of gray...and it's unfair and detrimental to think that anything or anyone else would exist otherwise. things aren't always what they seem, and things don't always have some hidden meaning. people always don't have some hidden agenda, or self serving purpose in their dealings with me.
even if most, to this point, have...
in the end, what's a girl to do when all of her erected white castles and shimmering reveries are carelessly knocked down and shattered by the very people that helped erect them, as well as herself, and everything has crumbled into a bleeding mess of fear, cynicism, and a sinking disbelief in anything worthwhile in the romance department ever happening?
there are two avenues: the boulverad of the broken soul who aches for someone to place a band-aid gently on her wounds, or the alley of dismissing even the most promising possibility and existing in singular.
for too long i've enclosed myself in an alleyway emblazoned with echoes of the past and daubed with the re-occuring scenes of my own heart break and let downs. i've let the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and the feelings that characterized the "then" translate into my outlook on the "now." i've let myself get stuck on the stepping stones of learning, rather than progressing and adding these experiences to the erudition of life.
arguably, i did so with just cause...but it's time i grew up, i fear. i'm a loner, yes...but i'm no fool. a hopeless, chimerical, silly little girl with matrimony and children pitter pattering up her list of goals and wants can only live so long under the auspices of a tattered and torn past.
and that is why i must resign. that is why i can no longer fill the position i've dutifully served for the past three years. that is why i am taking the tattered pieces of my past and refurbishing them into the pathway i need to take to allow my broken soul to find that someone who will dress my wounds.
or at least give someone the chance to try and dress them.
maybe i'm jumping too far into things, and maybe i should simply place a toe in first to check the water before i swan dive right in, but i'm tired of my own self-restraint, and i'm exhausted with constantly trying to keep myself at a distance and avidly avoiding opening up, and giving in.
i'm going to take this leap of faith.
why?
because i enjoy being around him; because its strange how comfortable i am around him; because he embodies crucial aspects of what i'm looking for; because i'm one hundred percent me around him and find it easy to find myself saying more than what i would usually allow; because in the week i've known him i've felt more protected than i ever have...
because i want to.
it's time i let my heart tell my head to fuck off.......not completely, but..well, maybe give it a bit more clout in these things.
regards,
-e
to the powers that be:
if it's wrong let him realize his mistake before i delve too far...let him come to his senses about me and let him see me for what i really am, or let him come to terms with the reality that much better exists.
please don't let me fuck this up, or please let it be over soon...before i let myself fall too far...before i voice my palpitating joys and fluttering aspirations that i just don't want to ignore.
i may be audacious enough to take this leap of faith, but i am, afterall, new to all this. go easy on me.
best wishes
-e
17.7.06
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Friday, July 07, 2006
deal breakers part 1
all the things guys have done that would be total deal breakers.
.....were i not a total pussy, of course.....
.....were i not a total pussy, of course.....
1. i hate talking on the phone. one point for me. i text. one more point for me. when i text you, i expect a response. not right away...but sometime before 5pm the next day. one guy wouldn't ever text me back the minute the "convo" shifted to more than his bitching about work and me being a sounding board...until a good day later. even then? the text went back to him bitching about work. not a good idea, boys.
2. alright..i have a dog. it's my dog, and i fully understand that all the responsibilities of having a dog are on me, which includes taking her out. i don't expect a guy to come over and take my dog out, i especially don't expect a guy to roll out of bed and take her out; however, if we're coming back from being out, and i grab the dogs leash....don't take your shoes off, plop on the couch, and watch me walk right on out. if you're already over and i announce i have to take the dog out..don't just look at me, blink, and continue watching tv or whatever. go with me! fifteen minutes outside isn't going to kill you, and ya know what? those kind of little things make all the fucking difference to girls. for serious.
3. it's a vagina..not an inverted fucked up game of whack-a-mole. i seriously had one guy, i shit you not, who was like diving for ovum or something. i walked around the next day like a retard because i swear my uterus was bruised. it's called finger-banging or fucking...not "lets see how far in we can get this up there before she cringes and screams"...some of you men have giant penises-and to you, i say..be gentle. some of you boys have big hands, but..we've all had a finger up in there--whether it be someone elses or your own--it's not hard to feel where shit goes from "penis belongs here" to "this point is restricted to authorized personnel only."
4. in addendum to number 3...if i'm saying "ow"..don't ask me "oh, does that hurt?" while you continue to do whatever motion it was that caused me to go "ow" in the first fucking place. i didn't say "ow" by accident, you asshole. "ow" and "ohhh" don't sound alike AT ALL given the greatly divergent voice infelctions between the two. we all make mistakes..it's fine...but don't keep doing it, and/or do it again the next time. do you want me to scrape my teeth against your cock, you say "ow!" and for me to continue, or for me to do it the next time? didn't think so.
5. in association with numbers 3 and 4, if you know you cum buckets worth of shit...don't jizz all over my stomach/tits or whatever..and just leave me there why you go clean off. hello?! i'm covered in your shit..i can't exactly move anywhere, now can i? well, unless i want that nastiness to run all down and get on the carpet or whatever. you cleaning off the end of your dick can wait...get me a goddamn towel you selfish asstwit.
6. don't act completely disinterested. i know i say a lot of shit you could give two shits about...i know when i go off on shoes, start bitching about school, or relive how pissed of i was when some asshole cut me off...yea..you really don't care. but, do you think i care when you start talking about guns? sports? (okay, i dig the sport talk..but shh), or how much you drank last night and yet woke up with no hangover? nope, not particularly...but, i listen, i pay attention, i ask questions..i respond to things you say...i even remember and recall shit from past experiences. why? because the semblance of giving a shit is a mighty powerful thing. i know you don't care, i know you aren't really paying much attention...but if you pretend to? oh. e is happy that you care enough to pretend to give a shit about her!
7. in addendum to 6....ask me something about myself outside of "what's your name?". i had one guy who never asked me a thing about myself. not one thing. we dated for about 4 months, and at the end of it all he didn't even know where i moved to cleveland from, when my birthday was, or why it was i spoke russian. his excuse? "i don't like to pry." yea..that's bullshit. you don't give enough of a shit to pry would be a more fitting reason. we chicks like it when you act like you give a shit, just like you lap it up when we pay attention to you and ask you questions about everything, down to the tiniest detals, about you. pry, assholes. pry.
8. don't say one thing to us and then turn around and say something completely different to your friends. i had one guy use the word "dating" whenever he referred to whatever it was we were doing while he and i talked about things..but, when his friends were around? he would deny, deny, deny..and say "we're just hanging out, there's nothing there," even when i was sitting right next to him listening. talk about warm fuzzies all up on my shit when i'd get to witness that fairly frequently.
9. going along with number 8, don't say shit you may not totally mean. this guy i went out with a few times referred to me as "my girl"..and introduced me to people when we went out as his girl/"the girl i'm dating". that kind of shit makes it really hard to do anything but kind of accept the term for what it is-a delineation of "this could be going somewhere." well, it wasn't and it didn't..and the fact he kind of planted that little seed in my head just kind of made it all the more shitty on my end. so, pay a decent amount of attention to what you say...we certainly do.
10. consistency, consitency, consistency. that's pretty much what this whole thing is about. regardless, consistent amounts of attention are really appreciated. nothing makes me more livid than when a guy goes from constantly communicating with me...to barely talking to me at all. one guy texted with me non stop for an entire day....and the next two day's didn't respond to a thing...and then all of a sudden? tons of texting again. yea...not a good idea. if you don't want the chick to go spinning into this downward spiral of "well, guess he found someone better or just realized i suck"..coming to grips with it, realizing your not worth the headache, and brushing you off in a matter of three hours....don't do that. it's really easy for us to assume shit, and it's even easier for us to assume shit is going against us and arm up with some kind of defense..which is usually dropping your ass in some way. just saying, not a good avenue to go.
11. this might be a personal one, but i've read in a few places that when a guy touches your face while he kisses you, it means he really, for lack of a better word, likes you. long before i read it, that action was just something that made me a bit more at ease with where things were going. that said: keep your fucking hands off my face unless you want me to think that you do, in fact, like me...maybe guys got hip to all the girl reading out there and figured this out (kind of like they figured out the syncopated breathing makes us subconciously feel attracted to someone and fall harder, and now i notice guys trying to match my breathing all the time), but it's not fair. one guy i dated did it every single fucking time...so it sucked that much worse when he was like "yea, i don't think i could ever really date you. you're too nice"..because my subconcious was all over the face touching and assumed there was a high probability that something would come out of things..no matter how short term.
12. don't make it about you. i'm human, i get in shitty moods..it happens..and you know it does because you get into shitty moods where you don't want to deal with anyone too. don't read too much into it. i had one guy tell me that i was being really abrasive and curt with him and that he was sorry if he did anything to put me in that mood, which was a fantastic way to mak it about him. when i explained i was just stressed because of finals and a lack of sleep..he magically turned it around and made it about him, again!...and pretty much yelled that he didn't like the tone of voice i was using with him and how i was just being a total bitch to him for no reason. yea...way to totally fuck the fact i'm freaking out over here, and make it about you. you don't want me reading into your every fucking action and mood and coming to you with a "do you hate me?! do you not want to be with me? do you want to sleep with other women?"..so don't approach my moods with the same thing...or worse...saying it's unfounded and that i've harmed you in some way that really doesn't exist.
13. say it with me: the little things. they mean the world to we ovary blessed folk. if you think it's petty and unimportant..odds are you should do it. one guy never bothered to wish me luck on my finals..and as small and insignificant as that is, it pissed me the fuck off..and hurt me to some degree. you count on the people around you for support, so, naturally, if you're dating someone you should, without question, offer some form of support, right? a text saying "g'luck" really isn't over-extending yourself..and, as retarded as it is, it would have meant a lot to me. the bottom line: do the tiny shit, and we'll be a lot more forgiving when you utterly fuck up the big shit.
14. don't be a fucking pussy. you don't like being strung along, and guess what? neither do we. nothing is worse than living in a world of "we" for any amount of time, only to have it ripped away for god knows what reason. be fucking honest...if you just want us for something casual..say so. if you just want sex..i'll bring the condoms. we're big girls, we (well most of us) can handle it, and are much more apt to go along with things and be less of a pain in your ass if you just level with us from the get go.
15. if you say you're going to do something, do it. this, in particular, applies to plans you've made and the telephone. nothing..NOTHING..is worse than sitting by the phone awaiting a call that just ain't coming. you have no intention of calling, so don't fucking say you will. i'm not going to get pissed if you forgo that part of your sentence, but i will get pissed if you mention it and don't make good on it. and plans? jesus christ, don't make semi finite plans with me....and then not come through on them. that's retarded, obnoxious, and it means i wasted a night sitting at home...all dolled up with no where to go. if you want to hang out with your guys? say so. if you don't want to see me? fuckin say so! don't leave me hanging with fantastic eye-makeup, and with, what i thought, was a reason to wear my latest pair of shoes.
16. i'm well aware i'm not the most gorgeous of girls. i'm also well aware that insanely pretty people are around, and that girls with fantastic bodies are lurking everywhere....so, fine..i don't give a shit if you look at them..in fact, i'll probably join in. most of the time, i'm the one pointing them out to you; however, when you start talking about things you like in a chick, remember that i'm sitting there. i had one guy go on and on about how much he loved girls with ghetto asses, who were about 5'2'', had super short hair, were really thin, and were on the flatter side. uhh, hello? i have no ass, i'm 5'8'', i have long hair...i got meat on my bones, and i have a giant rack. not exactly what i want to hear, ya know? yea, sure, you play it off like you don't give a shit that you have nothing of what i traditionally look for in a man, but i know you'd be more than irritated if i made it a point to detail how you aren't even close to what i traditionally date. i know i'm not the encompassment of everything you may want, odds are i'm nothing you were looking for, but at least let me labor under the false pretense of being at least somewhat what you want.
17. if the topic of past relationships comes up, and i actually go more into things than "yea, they were all assholes", do not....i repeat...do not go on and on about how you would never do that to someone, how you're always upfront about everything..blah di fuckin da. don't. just 'cause you think you never have, doesn't mean you never actually have, or that you never will. it's just a bad idea. go ahead and be sympathetic, but don't try to make yourself look better in light of what they did, and don't try to make yourelf out to be an angel. we've all fucked up. say "what an asshole," and leave it at that.
18. don't use me as an outlet for your past, your issues, and overall relationship retardedness. i've been through some fucked up shit, and i've been cheated on more than enough times for me to think it's funny now..but do you want me constantly thinking that you're fucking some other woman when you don't pick up your phone? nope. it's unfair. it's unfair to hold you to the precedent of my past shit, accordingly, it's unfair of you to do it to me. i had one guy tell me that, because of a past relationship, where his girlfriend cheated on him with one of her guys friends, he didn't really like the fact i had as many male friends as i do, or that i talked to them as often as i do. that's fair.. assume i'm the same as the rest, don't give me any form of a chance to prove otherwise, and expect me to pretty much alter my entire life because you have some issue. get over it, you fucktard.
19. one word: compromise. even in the casual shit, you gotta give a little. i know i'm extremely laid back and don't really care about the details of what's going on, what we're doing or where we're going, but sometimes i'm just not in the mood. a few times it's happened that i had plans with this guy to go out, but in light of me being tired/sick/broke/just not wanting to go out.. i'd suggest he come over and we just watch movies. yea, no. never happened. he'd always opt to go out with his friends instead. i don't care that you're going out with your friends, i care that we already had plans and because they weren't what you wanted you just opt out completely. if you want to do what you want to do and not have some other person making suggestions from the side-line, or you just don't want to take anyone elses needs into consideration..don't make plans with someone. just tell them what you're doing and say they can join if they want....that way it's all about you. have it your way, and enjoy being lonely.
20. this isn't so much a deal breaker, because things are pretty much decided, but just as a matter of procedure...don't fucking ignore me and hope i'll go away. yea, odds are i will just fade away..and yea, that's your goal, but it's fucking shitty to do that. aside from the fact that i can't even fathom how someone can live with themselves knowing they gave the emotional equivalent of decapitation to someone--one minute you're all about it, the next *poof* you're gone--i get to sit there and literally agonize over what the fuck happened, which just leads to me assuming i fucked up and desperately trying to figure out how i did fuck it up. either way, it makes you look like a total douchebag. so man-up, stop being a total pussy and just say "ya know what? i realized i just don't like you" because not only will i appreciate and respect its connotations, but in the long run it has got to be easier to just flat out say it than walking around knowing you totally left someone hanging with no semblance of a safety net.
7.7.06 | Permalink |
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Thursday, July 06, 2006
coming home to nothing
coming home to absolutely nothing is a surreal experience...
it's an experience that knocks the wind out of you every single time....
it's an experience you just don't get used to....
trust me. after six years of returning to nought, it still leaves me prying for air, and longing for something.
but that something is always obscured by the single fact that self loathing is an addiction. once you cross the line...once you assign fault to yourself in a single situation...it becomes a habit...and old habits die hard...especially ones that always give you an answer, someone to blame, some place to put fault, and a reason why...
even if all paths lead to you...and inveigle you as the enemy.
and that's where i am now. that's the position in time i find myself at....at this very moment....and i just don't see what all the fuss is about. after a three hour conversation about how i'm not always the one worth leaving, how i'm a great person, how i'm a catch and worthwhile, and *they* were idiots for giving up and discarding a "truly good hearted and awesome person which is so rare to find"...i find myself still at the same conclusion:
why the fuck do i need to love myself? what have i done that's so fucking incredible that i warrant my own self-respect?
...and don't give me that bullshit saying that "no one will love you unless you love yourself"...because you know what? i don't see how the two fucking correlate at all. it's not my choice if someone likes me, and it's certainly not my choice if someone loves me.....regardless of how much self-love, self-like, and self-respect i have...*you* make the choice of whether *you* like me or not..and it honestly has nothing to do with how i think of myself because, lets face it...how many of our friends/acquaintances/loved ones do *you* truly know? and even if *you* do know them insanely well..do you know every single thought they have?
i think not.
and it's not like i introduce myself as elle-the-self-depricating-and-loathing-queen. most people who know me think i'm a goofball who is never serious, never gets offended, never takes anything to heart, and is usually not bothered by anything.
frankly, i like it that way...
95% of the time i am that way...and depth of character is overrated..especially when trustworthy/worthwhile people are so hard to come-by.
people, in general, are shit...so why add to them my own detritus?
so fine. i keep how i feel about most things a secret....with the occasional slip up and almost immediate recovery and brush off........what is so wrong with that?
why do i have to cherish myself? love myself? oogle and fawn and pat myself on the back for every expected task i complete or mediocre accomplishment i've had thus far? isn't it better to consantly strive to be better? to be more? to go above and beyond the expected and mediocre? to internalize the past, even if your version points the finger at you, alone, and adjust accordingly?
i'm rather proud of the fact i can admit that i don't like who i am....
i'm rather proud of the fact that i can admit that i've done absolutely nothing with my life that warrants approval from myself or anyone around me...because everything i've done has been expected in one way or another....
why?
because i at least have the balls to admit it to myself and not place myself on an unwarranted pedastal like so many people do.....
fuck loving yourself.
there's so much more you can be than what you are now....
why settle?
it's an experience that knocks the wind out of you every single time....
it's an experience you just don't get used to....
trust me. after six years of returning to nought, it still leaves me prying for air, and longing for something.
but that something is always obscured by the single fact that self loathing is an addiction. once you cross the line...once you assign fault to yourself in a single situation...it becomes a habit...and old habits die hard...especially ones that always give you an answer, someone to blame, some place to put fault, and a reason why...
even if all paths lead to you...and inveigle you as the enemy.
and that's where i am now. that's the position in time i find myself at....at this very moment....and i just don't see what all the fuss is about. after a three hour conversation about how i'm not always the one worth leaving, how i'm a great person, how i'm a catch and worthwhile, and *they* were idiots for giving up and discarding a "truly good hearted and awesome person which is so rare to find"...i find myself still at the same conclusion:
why the fuck do i need to love myself? what have i done that's so fucking incredible that i warrant my own self-respect?
...and don't give me that bullshit saying that "no one will love you unless you love yourself"...because you know what? i don't see how the two fucking correlate at all. it's not my choice if someone likes me, and it's certainly not my choice if someone loves me.....regardless of how much self-love, self-like, and self-respect i have...*you* make the choice of whether *you* like me or not..and it honestly has nothing to do with how i think of myself because, lets face it...how many of our friends/acquaintances/loved ones do *you* truly know? and even if *you* do know them insanely well..do you know every single thought they have?
i think not.
and it's not like i introduce myself as elle-the-self-depricating-and-loathing-queen. most people who know me think i'm a goofball who is never serious, never gets offended, never takes anything to heart, and is usually not bothered by anything.
frankly, i like it that way...
95% of the time i am that way...and depth of character is overrated..especially when trustworthy/worthwhile people are so hard to come-by.
people, in general, are shit...so why add to them my own detritus?
so fine. i keep how i feel about most things a secret....with the occasional slip up and almost immediate recovery and brush off........what is so wrong with that?
why do i have to cherish myself? love myself? oogle and fawn and pat myself on the back for every expected task i complete or mediocre accomplishment i've had thus far? isn't it better to consantly strive to be better? to be more? to go above and beyond the expected and mediocre? to internalize the past, even if your version points the finger at you, alone, and adjust accordingly?
i'm rather proud of the fact i can admit that i don't like who i am....
i'm rather proud of the fact that i can admit that i've done absolutely nothing with my life that warrants approval from myself or anyone around me...because everything i've done has been expected in one way or another....
why?
because i at least have the balls to admit it to myself and not place myself on an unwarranted pedastal like so many people do.....
fuck loving yourself.
there's so much more you can be than what you are now....
why settle?
6.7.06 | Permalink |
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Tuesday, July 04, 2006
<**>
Tried and true to reason, some things are better left omitted from the manuscript. Regardless, the gut feeling is always the right feeling, and in any event, it is a promise to yourself that is on the brink of being broken, and all you can do is sit there and stare out into the nothingness that is a grey board covered with papers, post-its, and reminders for things you’d never really forget anyway, but smack on up there just so you look busy and on top of things. Let the countdown begin, you think, it’s only a matter of time before it all unfolds into the debacle you know it’ll be, and yet, like the ignoramus you are you garnish whatever muster you have and sprinkle on a little hope as you carry on into the bold unknown. Why? Because that’s what people do, even though you, specifically, don’t want to—no, rephrase, you don’t know how to.
Cut to two years ago when you were aglow with the spirit and vivacity to endeavor farther then you ever thought you could. You opened up the toolbox and plotted away, building the perfect schemata to fit the mold dictated by such an endeavor. The result? Nothing. Nothing but it being thrown back at you with the caption “It’s not good enough”, and a feeling.
Cut to now. That same feeling. You sit in a livid match of thought, while you stare at the grey board. The feeling is back. To learn from the past and jump on it, or to let it slide and find yourself in the position of being captioned once again. It’s a tricky lesson, this thing called life, and you can’t seem to shake the feeling that either way you are fucked. Not just any fucked, proper fucked.
Cut to three and a half years ago when the caption was “It’s just not worth it to me”.
Abscond isn’t the right word, but it’s the first word that comes to mind.
But you sit, like the jackass you are, and revel in the post-mortem glory of whatever chance you had at being saved from the inevitable six-peat you are now deciding to collide with. I’m overreacting, you think to yourself, and the feeling that you’re desperately trying to shake recoils, for a moment, and then comes on even stronger. It’s the feeling of a chance just not being worth the effort you’re proposing. It’s the feeling that nothing good can ever come, and even still, you sit there with that silly little smirk on your face at the prospect of things going as planned. You like the idea of pulling out the tool box: building the perfect schemata again. You’d sell your soul to the devil, you think, if it would make it all smooth sailing, instead of having to barter with the demons of hope and, even worse, faith. You’d give it all away to prescribe to the opiate aura of mutual adulation forever.
Cut to last year when the caption was “There’s a lot better.”
It’d be scrumptious, you think as you walk down the unlit hallway. Much like your sanity, the hallway has been abandoned but for a tiny straggler trying to find a way to make it all connect. The straggler? Trust. Hope and faith, they are easily forged, but trust? Trust is a goddamn miracle. You set up the fight. Weighing in at each and every shambled captioned moment and its affect on you, in the right corner is that Feeling, and weighing in at a miniscule obscure miracle in the left corner is Trust. You side with Trust.
Injudicious isn’t the right word, but it’s the first word that comes to mind.
Cut to two years ago when you were aglow with the spirit and vivacity to endeavor farther then you ever thought you could. You opened up the toolbox and plotted away, building the perfect schemata to fit the mold dictated by such an endeavor. The result? Nothing. Nothing but it being thrown back at you with the caption “It’s not good enough”, and a feeling.
Cut to now. That same feeling. You sit in a livid match of thought, while you stare at the grey board. The feeling is back. To learn from the past and jump on it, or to let it slide and find yourself in the position of being captioned once again. It’s a tricky lesson, this thing called life, and you can’t seem to shake the feeling that either way you are fucked. Not just any fucked, proper fucked.
Cut to three and a half years ago when the caption was “It’s just not worth it to me”.
Abscond isn’t the right word, but it’s the first word that comes to mind.
But you sit, like the jackass you are, and revel in the post-mortem glory of whatever chance you had at being saved from the inevitable six-peat you are now deciding to collide with. I’m overreacting, you think to yourself, and the feeling that you’re desperately trying to shake recoils, for a moment, and then comes on even stronger. It’s the feeling of a chance just not being worth the effort you’re proposing. It’s the feeling that nothing good can ever come, and even still, you sit there with that silly little smirk on your face at the prospect of things going as planned. You like the idea of pulling out the tool box: building the perfect schemata again. You’d sell your soul to the devil, you think, if it would make it all smooth sailing, instead of having to barter with the demons of hope and, even worse, faith. You’d give it all away to prescribe to the opiate aura of mutual adulation forever.
Cut to last year when the caption was “There’s a lot better.”
It’d be scrumptious, you think as you walk down the unlit hallway. Much like your sanity, the hallway has been abandoned but for a tiny straggler trying to find a way to make it all connect. The straggler? Trust. Hope and faith, they are easily forged, but trust? Trust is a goddamn miracle. You set up the fight. Weighing in at each and every shambled captioned moment and its affect on you, in the right corner is that Feeling, and weighing in at a miniscule obscure miracle in the left corner is Trust. You side with Trust.
Injudicious isn’t the right word, but it’s the first word that comes to mind.
4.7.06 | Permalink |
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