You know those people that don't believe in love? I am sorry I have never been a mushy, huggy, kissy, nasty ass little love sick puppy. But those feelings that I think are there, they're fading and blurring around the edges. I can hardly even tell what is real and what is fiction in my mind. Everyday i feel less and less. My heart seems to be receiving and giving less. It hurts inside all over. More and more I just want to give up.
Friday, September 26, 2003
Thursday, September 25, 2003
Some things make me just want to give up and walk away. Lying is one of the worst things you can ever do. Why? Because then you can never fully trust that person again. And believe me, I don't trust much of anything. I haven't ever since I was a little girl when I came to the realization that I was surrounded by pain and destruction. I don't want to live in it any longer. I have only been holding on this long for a few reasons. More than anything I want to get back at the people who have damaged me. I want to do something with my life I enjoy more than anything, something unique, great. Something people will be shocked at. I want to prove them all wrong. My heart is filled with disdain, anger and resentment towards everybody I know for something or another.
My parents for neglecting. Hating, not loving and stealing anything of value from me. My life mostly. My best friend because our dream of a career together with a house together til we are old and grey has died over the years. And I rest most of the blame on her changing, being away and drifting apart mentally. My sister for the little treacherous things she's done, for giving away the bug to Jesse Stoda. I can not forgive easily. In fact I don't remember ever forgetting, or forgiving anything...ever. Hmmm. I wonder.
Something I have always secretly always wanted and up until now I have hardly even admitted it to myself. But for some reason I feel like saying it, lifting the brick out the water. There's always stories I read or movies I saw where a broken woman (raped, beaten within an inch of her life or molested) and then weak and helpless this man steps in and rescues her. I have always wanted that. To be rescued. I have always wished something would happen that would make people wake up and say "Hey!" Look there's Michelle! And not to say, "Look at her ugly legs." "She copied Crissy." When I am rescued and defended.
There is only one time in my life that I can remember anybody helping me in a similar way. This guy I was totally infatuated with (trust me, with those blue eyes...what heterosexual girl could resist? They were the color of the ocean at night) and I used to sit with him in class and we'd joke all the time and pass notes. Grr. (this was in high school senior yr I think?) But I'd liked him since 10th. Well one time this guy behind us Matt Yuhas was driving me nuts and I hit him or kicked him and he kicked me back in the ankle! Pat, beautiful Pat. Growl. He turned to him, FURIOUS (and trust me we were all friends...) and said "Don't ever do that again." Or something along those lines. Could he see the froth at the side of my mouth!??!?!?! OMG OMG. Never ever has anybody done something like that. I felt special. Did he like me? Who knows. Nothing ever happened. He eventually did this guy PMS thing and he never talked to me really. Just stopped. I don't know why. But omg it was great. I was in SHOCK. I mean seriously, he was so SOOOOO PISSED OFF. He didn't even kick me that hard! Shit. I miss that. I want that again.
Eric. "I couldn't stop staring at this girl at the gym. I don't know why. I think it was because she had straight black hair, you know like asain." Jee wiz. Thanks. Do you know how that burned? There may as well been ACID DRIPPNG INTO MY EYES. I coudln't believe somebody would say something like that to me. I'm sorry...aren't you supposed to be my boyfriend?? Oh wait I forgot! He has an obsession with asian chicks. Everytime I see straight black hair now I want to rip the hair from the scalp as hard as I can and watch the hair dangle in my hand with the splashes of blood hitting the asphalt. Oh my god the feeluing inside. Is that happiness?? Why yes. I think it may be. I thought I'd never feel that again. But now I know there is hope. I'm sorry but staring? Are that stupid to actually TELL me that? I mean where were you raised?? On planet INSENSITIVE! SUCK MY FAT COCK YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. Wow, that was months ago and I'd swear almost everyday I have that whole story, the image in my head ALL OF IT. Playing over and over. I have to hold back the anger, and tears. I have to pretend it's not there and continue working. Expedite that food girlfriend. Make that money honey. Bleak I know. My life is bleak.
I try to get over things but I cant let things rest. Your life is made up of different days right? When we talk about our days, they become stories right? How can you erase a book? Before it becomes a novel? What if the sentence has taken on it's own life. Grown skin, hair, eyes and teeth. Razor sharp theeth that bite at the weirdest moments.
Yesterday Ben was being an asshole and I hit him and he swatted at the air and made assnine remarks about a fly so I kept hitting him. Same thing. A lilttle later he came back and said something else that deserved a sufficent beating. I hit him pretty hard, but not THAT hard. And he walked back over and punched me in the arm. I don't why. But I had to go to the bathroom and cry. I can't explain. I felt like shit all day, dry, used up. And that was just icing on the cake. He meant it. It wasn't a joking punch. I felt ashamed, hurt and I had to get out of there. I wasn't gone more than a few minutes. I got myself contained well once I got away. I don't why such a stupid thing set me off. I suppose at the time almost anything could of had me going. I don't even understand really why, so I can't explain further. Sorry.
I've just had enough. Enough aloneness. Being lied to. I feel used and as I like to say, UNSPECIAL. I don't feel anything more than just a big joke. That's all everything about me is and I'm breaking down. More and more the wear and tear shows through. My skin itches with frustration. Anger. I want to kill things. I want to kill somebody. Masses of deserving indivuals, Poachers, bullies, rapists, SOMEBODY! I don't care. I just want to beat the living day lights out them until they cry for me to stop and I'll just hit harder. I want them to feel sharp pains and gasp for air as their life dwindles away.
My parents for neglecting. Hating, not loving and stealing anything of value from me. My life mostly. My best friend because our dream of a career together with a house together til we are old and grey has died over the years. And I rest most of the blame on her changing, being away and drifting apart mentally. My sister for the little treacherous things she's done, for giving away the bug to Jesse Stoda. I can not forgive easily. In fact I don't remember ever forgetting, or forgiving anything...ever. Hmmm. I wonder.
Something I have always secretly always wanted and up until now I have hardly even admitted it to myself. But for some reason I feel like saying it, lifting the brick out the water. There's always stories I read or movies I saw where a broken woman (raped, beaten within an inch of her life or molested) and then weak and helpless this man steps in and rescues her. I have always wanted that. To be rescued. I have always wished something would happen that would make people wake up and say "Hey!" Look there's Michelle! And not to say, "Look at her ugly legs." "She copied Crissy." When I am rescued and defended.
There is only one time in my life that I can remember anybody helping me in a similar way. This guy I was totally infatuated with (trust me, with those blue eyes...what heterosexual girl could resist? They were the color of the ocean at night) and I used to sit with him in class and we'd joke all the time and pass notes. Grr. (this was in high school senior yr I think?) But I'd liked him since 10th. Well one time this guy behind us Matt Yuhas was driving me nuts and I hit him or kicked him and he kicked me back in the ankle! Pat, beautiful Pat. Growl. He turned to him, FURIOUS (and trust me we were all friends...) and said "Don't ever do that again." Or something along those lines. Could he see the froth at the side of my mouth!??!?!?! OMG OMG. Never ever has anybody done something like that. I felt special. Did he like me? Who knows. Nothing ever happened. He eventually did this guy PMS thing and he never talked to me really. Just stopped. I don't know why. But omg it was great. I was in SHOCK. I mean seriously, he was so SOOOOO PISSED OFF. He didn't even kick me that hard! Shit. I miss that. I want that again.
Eric. "I couldn't stop staring at this girl at the gym. I don't know why. I think it was because she had straight black hair, you know like asain." Jee wiz. Thanks. Do you know how that burned? There may as well been ACID DRIPPNG INTO MY EYES. I coudln't believe somebody would say something like that to me. I'm sorry...aren't you supposed to be my boyfriend?? Oh wait I forgot! He has an obsession with asian chicks. Everytime I see straight black hair now I want to rip the hair from the scalp as hard as I can and watch the hair dangle in my hand with the splashes of blood hitting the asphalt. Oh my god the feeluing inside. Is that happiness?? Why yes. I think it may be. I thought I'd never feel that again. But now I know there is hope. I'm sorry but staring? Are that stupid to actually TELL me that? I mean where were you raised?? On planet INSENSITIVE! SUCK MY FAT COCK YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. Wow, that was months ago and I'd swear almost everyday I have that whole story, the image in my head ALL OF IT. Playing over and over. I have to hold back the anger, and tears. I have to pretend it's not there and continue working. Expedite that food girlfriend. Make that money honey. Bleak I know. My life is bleak.
I try to get over things but I cant let things rest. Your life is made up of different days right? When we talk about our days, they become stories right? How can you erase a book? Before it becomes a novel? What if the sentence has taken on it's own life. Grown skin, hair, eyes and teeth. Razor sharp theeth that bite at the weirdest moments.
Yesterday Ben was being an asshole and I hit him and he swatted at the air and made assnine remarks about a fly so I kept hitting him. Same thing. A lilttle later he came back and said something else that deserved a sufficent beating. I hit him pretty hard, but not THAT hard. And he walked back over and punched me in the arm. I don't why. But I had to go to the bathroom and cry. I can't explain. I felt like shit all day, dry, used up. And that was just icing on the cake. He meant it. It wasn't a joking punch. I felt ashamed, hurt and I had to get out of there. I wasn't gone more than a few minutes. I got myself contained well once I got away. I don't why such a stupid thing set me off. I suppose at the time almost anything could of had me going. I don't even understand really why, so I can't explain further. Sorry.
I've just had enough. Enough aloneness. Being lied to. I feel used and as I like to say, UNSPECIAL. I don't feel anything more than just a big joke. That's all everything about me is and I'm breaking down. More and more the wear and tear shows through. My skin itches with frustration. Anger. I want to kill things. I want to kill somebody. Masses of deserving indivuals, Poachers, bullies, rapists, SOMEBODY! I don't care. I just want to beat the living day lights out them until they cry for me to stop and I'll just hit harder. I want them to feel sharp pains and gasp for air as their life dwindles away.
Remembering Bad Times
Ever since I can remeber I have been in love with fiction in the purest form. Anything out of touch with reality...aliens, monsters, dragons, centaurs, vampires, unicorns, you name it. I would give anything for a glimspe of that; a touch, a kiss, a caress. Anything. Just to be a part of something so great, strong that nobody else could have. Nothing could ever compare to the warmth I would feel.
I've been in love with boys since kindergarten. I kissed this boy David Mcfarlan on the cheek and he ran and told the teacher. I loved his best friend Kory more for five consecutive years. I wrote him love letters that I never delivered, scratched his name on all my paper, even gave him a letter once, stalked him to his bus. I was invited to his birthday party in kindergarten by his mother. I even flashed him my underwear while he constructed a T-rex puzzle. He didn't even notice. As far as I know nobody had a clue I even existed until 5th grade. Only a few boys I chased year after year knew about me. I licked my palms and chased them, and believe me they ran.
Once people noticed me, I wished to be invisble again. I didn't want to be seen anymore. What was the point? They laughed. All I could do was cry. All I had was my pets. I had no friends really. Off and on again friends. Not very good friends, not until I met Melanie in fifth grade. I constantly felt like the most alone person in the world with only me and myself. I was over the edge and wanted nothing to do with anything. I even wrote my own will, forgiving everything I had to Melanie. I still have it. My mother was too consumed with her own struggles in life to even feed me anything more than McDonald's. So she had no clue I was in distress. I was in therapy professionally and at school. They did no good. My only female therapist Susan was cool, I actually felt like I could talk to her unlike everybody else. I'd rather talk to my dog or cat thank-you. They never judge me. I could do anything to them and they'd love me no matter what.
Ever since I can remeber I have been in love with fiction in the purest form. Anything out of touch with reality...aliens, monsters, dragons, centaurs, vampires, unicorns, you name it. I would give anything for a glimspe of that; a touch, a kiss, a caress. Anything. Just to be a part of something so great, strong that nobody else could have. Nothing could ever compare to the warmth I would feel.
I've been in love with boys since kindergarten. I kissed this boy David Mcfarlan on the cheek and he ran and told the teacher. I loved his best friend Kory more for five consecutive years. I wrote him love letters that I never delivered, scratched his name on all my paper, even gave him a letter once, stalked him to his bus. I was invited to his birthday party in kindergarten by his mother. I even flashed him my underwear while he constructed a T-rex puzzle. He didn't even notice. As far as I know nobody had a clue I even existed until 5th grade. Only a few boys I chased year after year knew about me. I licked my palms and chased them, and believe me they ran.
Once people noticed me, I wished to be invisble again. I didn't want to be seen anymore. What was the point? They laughed. All I could do was cry. All I had was my pets. I had no friends really. Off and on again friends. Not very good friends, not until I met Melanie in fifth grade. I constantly felt like the most alone person in the world with only me and myself. I was over the edge and wanted nothing to do with anything. I even wrote my own will, forgiving everything I had to Melanie. I still have it. My mother was too consumed with her own struggles in life to even feed me anything more than McDonald's. So she had no clue I was in distress. I was in therapy professionally and at school. They did no good. My only female therapist Susan was cool, I actually felt like I could talk to her unlike everybody else. I'd rather talk to my dog or cat thank-you. They never judge me. I could do anything to them and they'd love me no matter what.
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