faded sidestrips

Wednesday, 02 February 2005

i'm tempted to start all new with this. it might be easier than fixing up a new template. i don't know.

| shadowfall at February 02, 2005 22:50 | link | comments (4) |

i'm not sure what the comment meant. turning average seems to be, or well, is, the very last thing i want to do right now. average? but i won't be quick to take it wrong, that comment, if intended somehow else, maybe i missed the point. maybe i...i don't know. a self destructive stereotype. no, i am walking, i am breathing. i come off wrong, to everyone.

if this is self destruction at its peak, then i have to be beyond myself. this is not in my control. . there i fucking lie all night, watching red numbers on the fucking clock next to me, they blur from tired eyes, strained eyes, please let me sleep- the sandman forgets me again. i used to cry at night when i was younger- i think i remember even seeing him, at the window- a tiny man with a long pointy beard- passing by, grinning. do you know what its like to lie there night after night and stare into static blackness. you run out of thoughts- and then theres more- coming quicker, the images, faster, flashing, more intense, and there is no escape at night. and then its morning and the whole world is starting new- but i am stuck between yesterday and today, and somewhere last week.. it goes on for days, five days .

my outbursts all day keep them laughing, her specifically. she thinks i'm hilarious. the teachers think i'm insane and laugh too. we're all laughing. whats the harm in laughing? fuck. but it isn't me talking. i don't know who it is.

radiohead. a cold sweat. thats how i pull myself out of bed, drenched in a cold sweat. thats how i sit here now.

i lay on the couch for an hour and drifted.

i walk and drift.

fuck..

i'd drown my beliefs to have you. i don't know what it is i ache for. fuck it, i know. i know all too well. . i need excitement. i need randomness. i need to run through the sprinklers in a larger field at midnight. i need a best friend. i need someone to know me. i need to be honest with myself. i need to stop running. i need warmth.

i'm not living, i'm just killing time.

| shadowfall at February 02, 2005 03:33 | link | comments (1) |

Thursday, 20 January 2005

i've gotten used to expecting the insanity and irony of the world when i'm with him.

slow music in me, i watched the stars the whole way to the city. the huge dirty city. a red golden gate in the fog somewhere, i know, but cannot see, somewhere out there in the bay, unfolding dissapointment to people who have travelled thousands of miles just to find old men on the curb with heroin in their veins and no where to go, women, some barely women, some who will never be women, parading their bodies around the dark alleys to buy them dinner, to pay tomorrow's damn rent, it can't be late, you've got to make it somehow.

we drove around smoking joints- and in the car next to us, stopped at the same light, miles away from home, in a completely different city, a familiar face- we recognized eachother at the same moment, and in the insanity, and because i'd never been so high, we both wondered if we made it all up.

but we hadn't.

and the city was amazingly cold and looked like all the diseases had married their victims here for life. my feet were numb.

i've been spacing out, passing out, blanking out lately. freezing, shutting down, and not realizing what has happened, or that time has gone by. i thought i was still standing, why were they asking if i was alright? i hit the floor last night.

babe, you gotta eat.

there were so many stories, half of which i will never be able to tell anyone, never be able to trust to words or paper, but they've been running through my head all day.

maybe its just the two hours of sleep i've been getting every night.

i think i'm just exhausted.

i think i love how things are right now.

i'm not sure how to stop it.

| shadowfall at January 20, 2005 03:21 | link | comments (2) |

Sunday, 16 January 2005

i didn't think i'd be able to leave yesterday. i hate dissapointment. . all day i waited (and it wasn't the best of days) for the car so i could forget how empty and frustrated i was, and fall into stronger arms (although i always win our wrestling matches) and then that chance was taken and i realized that it meant i'd be alone in my room all night, alone, with my head spinning and twisting and my heart sinking. waiting and waiting and then its gone and so yes, i broke. i didn't mean to, i think it was just built up unspoken frustrations with everything and then it all just hit at once and so i turned off the main lights in my room and stared at the fish dancing in the aquarium and sobbed until everything was underwater, blurry. blurry fish dancing for me.

and every time i thought of being alone all night, it made me sick. . literally sick . throwing-up-stomach-acid-and-blood sick .

attractive site, i know.

but the chance wasn't taken (thanks for letting me use the car) and i did get to fall into another life, disconnected, detached from everything here.

i walked into the house. it smelled like pot and there were too many people and i could see in his eyes that he had been smoking it all day. i met a friend's new girlfriend who wanted me to come back to their apartment with them. a jazzy girl with curly brown hair and who moved her neck and her feet to the music like she was it .

but i was already too buzzed to move from the couch, i said.

not that i would have gone anyway.

i'm not like that .

my boyfriend and i pretended to be mad at eachother, playing the "who can piss who off more" game. "fine," i said, and moved to sit between two of his guy friends on the couch. and stayed there for hours .

later his friend laced his fingers into mine, massaging my hand next to my thigh, while i was sitting right next to my boyfriend. not that its serious, we all know its just part of the game.

"you want to get high, babe?" he asked. and i followed him into a garage full of people of all ages, getting the last hit from the bong. it made my lungs burn. i left after one hit and sat back with his friend and got even more buzzed. my eyes and head were heavy, couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. 'you high, babe?' he came back and asked.

'no, just tired.'

i didn't get to sleep until after six this morning.

but its more than i've slept all week combined, and a better sleep.

'i don't belong to you,' i said today, stretched out on the matress, pinned down by him jokingly. 'oh yeah, you do,' he said, 'you're mine and you do what i say.' and so i fought everything he said and refused to kiss him as he grabbed my face and tried to force me.

i knew he wasn't being serious, but i forgot it might scare me to be overpowered. i froze.

'why don't you love me anymore?' he asked, releasing me.

i stared at the black spot on the ceiling- the remains of a fly- and said

'i do love you. i love you.'

'i love you too.' he said.

| shadowfall at January 16, 2005 05:07 | link | comments |

Saturday, 15 January 2005

i've been thinking much too much about the elephants in Sri Lanka.

before i was angry, raging angry. wanting to throw myself against the walls of the house, smash my body into brick, fall, crash, break . but now i'm just too exhausted and it makes me feel sad instead. my coffee has separated in its glass- coffee over soymilk . i'd mix it, but i'd prefer to sit here, and not get up.

my car broke down today on my way out of school, going up a hill. . i didn't know what was happening until i started rolling back . the car wouldn't start. . emergency lights flashing , i rolled back into the entrance of the school so i wouldn't be hit. . and waited and tried not to let my voice shake too much on the phone .

the school cop pulled up and asked what had happened. 'you were going too fast in the parking lot anyway' she said. 'me?' i asked, sure that i hadn't . she looked again at my car and dropped the subject . i thought of instantly hating her then, but i think she saw that i was frustrated and nervous from the ordeal and so she asked if my hair was really that color and if my eyes were really this blue. 'thats beautiful,' she said. 'dark hair and blue eyes.' and so i couldn't hate her. she asked me about how i liked school and we talked about the importance of all the different cultures, but also the amount of crime . she waited with me (i forgave her for getting to sit in a warm car while i froze without a jacket outside) for a long time. the tow truck driver finally came. he was an old man, nice enough, but sort of creepy.

but thats not my point . i drove with him to the shop and had to call a friend to pick me up.

and i got home and my hamster died.

and i don't have a car this weekend so i might be stuck at home.

but i need to see him. i need to. i don't know what i'll do if i can't. . i need to stay with people who can laugh at stupid things and play loud music and make me stop thinking so much and forget that i'm frustrated.

| shadowfall at January 15, 2005 06:09 | link | comments (1) |

Wednesday, 12 January 2005

i write to myself. here now, this.

i float around the room in particles. dust. particles. air molecules. i can't sleep at night- not alone anyway. i lie there silently screaming inside head to shut up, please shut up, shut down, let me sleep, stop thinking.. . .and all i see is blood. bad blood. dead bodies torn open, decaying flesh, eyes shriveled, brown yellow skin, worms, bugs. . .i don't want to think about it . food makes me sick . my throat burns.

the dog barks.

i wait for his call . i should have called him . he said to call . i didn't . i hate calling people. i hate calling houses . i get so nervous , and its got to be dead silent in the room or i can't think or talk .

love is sitting with me in a mold-infested, bacteria-thriving bathroom while i puke up alcohol and stomach acid for three hours and pass out with my head in the toilet . love is being sympathetic in the morning even though he told me not to drink that on an empty stomach.

i hope he calls tonight .

thats who i am now. why deny it? scared to admit it, like i can hide from myself, from everyone, from God. but i can't . i guess i am weak, stupid, immature. i guess i need a high to escape from myself. i guess it does make my heart beat faster, my body finally relax, it does take some alcohol to get me to even talk now. it takes him to make me feel anything. i am screwing up my life. i'm not going to college. i might end up fucked in the end.

i won't be an artist .

i won't make a difference.

i'll be trapped here.

and i'm sick of erasing all of what i really wish i could say.

| shadowfall at January 12, 2005 10:01 | link | comments (1) |

Thursday, 06 January 2005

i don't know when exactly it started. i'm craving for things to be beautiful, intense and sad. mosaic glass. the sadness and beauty. the dark. . intense darkness and rain. gothic music. i ache for austria and the huge stone castles, the medeaval festivals, the horses and hills, skies and rain, to breathe it all in,. small villages. i miss it . i dream i'm there, and then i wake up realizing i'm not. . and it leaves me longing and aching. it leaves me feeling trapped and hopeless. stuck. alone. do you know what thats like? to be trapped between two worlds. neither of which i could ever fully 'let go of' or choose between. neither of which i really belong to.

and it all led me to take out my dreads.

| shadowfall at January 06, 2005 00:48 | link | comments |

Sunday, 02 January 2005

the snake bit me. he looked at me, after sliding up my arm and between my fingers, and said "you're not on that ecstasy shit too, are you?" and laughed. "fuck no," i said. "i don't do that shit."

and then he bit me, right at the wrist, slashed. and slipped inside that slit he made and moved inside my arm. my body jolted and twisted. i bit my lip, clenched my teeth, and closed my eyes, waiting for it to stop.

and they all looked at eachother and said, "don't touch her." and no one did.

except him. he held me and made the snake leave. 'what did you take?' he asked. 'nothing. i didn't take shit.' i said.

and the snake came back and lashed out at my hands. i squeezed my fingers, my fist, and watched the blood poor down my arm. over and over. down and down.

'i feel so distant.' he said. 'please just tell me. is it me?is it something that has nothing to do with me? an ex boyfriend? family? a friend?'

'no.'

the metal plates hit the walls of my head, my ears.

'your head? does it hurt? '

'no.' i said. 'its slipping.'

'slipping, huh?'

'its slipping.'

'what do you mean? it hurts? does your head hurt?' he asked.

{no one touch her. don't touch her. get the fuck off her.]

'metal plates.'

'what does that mean?' he asked.

'they're back. the metal plates. grinding. '

[get the Fuck off her]

'i think i know what you mean.' he said.

'don't leave me.'

'i won't leave you.'

'please just stay with me.'

'i won't leave you.'

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yesterday was new years eve. i broke tradition and didn't stay home to watch the countdown. i bet mom put cookies on the table, or cheese and crackers. maybe both. i bet they watched it on t.v. maybe they rang bells and banged on pots or pans and ran outside and screamed 'happy new year'

i bet mom washed her feet at 11.

instead, i drove to his/our friend's house. stepped in mud on the way around the house to the garage, in my converse shoes. they played video games and drank beer. i sat on an orange twisty chair and spun around and drank beer and had to pee. bad. twice. and i poked her green fluffy slippers. the girl who made us go inside and watch the countdown (thank you. it would have been disapointing to miss for the first year in...how long?] green slipper girl sat on the couch and her parents kissed and he and i stood in the back and watched the countdown, ball drop, kiss. at midnight.

and then, after we pretended that it was magic, we went back into the garage and i sat in my orange chair and drank beer, and pretended i didn't feel buzzed. but i did. and my foot fell asleep. i leaned on his chest, leaned back, tilted my head, and felt the alcohol make me tired. and then everyone left and he and i slept in a dark garage, on a broken couch, with a small heater pointed at us. and it was darker than i ever remember dark being. and it was quiet. and no dogs woke us up in the morning. no 'old bitch' on the phone in the morning being 'too fucking loud.' no one stepping over us.

happy new year. maybe the war will end, and i'll graduate, and i'll figure out what to do with my life. maybe he'll get the record deal. maybe we'll be rich. good or bad, happy new year. fuck.

| shadowfall at January 02, 2005 05:28 | link | comments |

Thursday, 30 December 2004

he was so tired, we both just fell asleep. and it was a good night .

and we woke up like we always do- to dogs running around the house, people stepping over us, loud voices, and then the drums pounding into our heads through the drool-stained pillow i tried to shut it all out with. [and it wasn't my drool, and it might not have been his either.}

i'm supposed to be there now. "two hours he said. and no more. two hours and you have to come back." "thats what you think," i said. and so i'm still here, half out of just my own resistance to cooperate and half because i can't stay in one place for too long without needing to be somewhere else.

[and because i was considering doing my biology report on the indian elephant. but i changed my mind. eh, later.]

i want to get on a train and always be between places. with a million stops between where i got on and where i would finally have to get off, if ever. that way i would never have to decide on where to be or who to be, i'd just always be that in-between person. just another traveler on a train, looking like i have some destination in mind, looking like i have some story to go along with my trip, only i'll just never get off and i'll sit and watch people and the changing landscape and hardly really exist at all . i think that would be perfect. .

i wonder if he couldbe content getting lost in a big european city forever. without ever feeling the need to settle down somewhere or come "home."

i wonder if he could detach himself from people too.

but what he wants is to play music. and i couldn't deny him that- especially not after i heard him last night in the other room- with just a bass line in the background- he sounded like a cd- everything perfect and fast as if he heard the music a hundred times already, and wasn't just making it up on the spot . not many people can hear a twenty minute song, with long, complicated guitar solos, and then be able to play it perfectly just by ear.

i mean, he's good, really good. better than most guitar players who make a million dollars at each show.

i don't know what i want.

| shadowfall at December 30, 2004 05:01 | link | comments |

Tuesday, 28 December 2004

heavy taste of coffee and cigarettes, which the rain put out for me.

the house is empty, they went to the movies, i couldn't go today. its raining and i need music and smoke and something heavy and deep, do you know what i mean? heavy and deep.

sulking, sinking, aching, tearing, breaking, crashing, falling deep.

deep and heavy.

so close no matter how far.

its darker than it last was. i can't think .i want to be the that taste. i am cold hands and smoke and rain and black coffee, only black or its ruined. and the dark blue sky- heavy clouds, pouring down. drenched wood.

you know, he loves me. i slept there last night . on the mattress on the floor in the living room with a big fake tree and too many voices. it rained hard all night . he gave me a glass prism with a rose etched inside with music notes and an i love you and it turns and lights up on its stand. its the most beautiful thing i've ever gotten, so i hope i never have to hate it .

are they home now?

i smell like cigarettes, run.

false alarm.

| shadowfall at December 28, 2004 04:31 | link | comments |