never forget

sometimes I think I am loveable, and start to build confidence. then I read an old text from someone I indirectly crossed, so I may remember that I am nothing but a slut. 

mama's little helper

i am lucky, and i am thankful. so much appreciation.

"i didn't try to hurt you."

I bought a pack of condoms today: durex extra sensitive. this is good for sex,

but i've found sensitivity to be a  hindrance in most other situations.

do my heightened perceptions/reactions mean I am more in touch, or am I just nuts? 

it seems to be a burden on people, whether an acquaintance or family; 

witnessing my upset causes them to feel anything from confused to heartbroken.

so tell me (God?), what benefit does my nature bring me?

maybe if I could find arms long enough to wrap around me completely, 

I'd feel better -- but not exactly ok. 

that's on me.

replete with melancholy

auer rods (our odds)

it is nice to feel pure sadness, free of anxiety and grief. rarely does it come so clean, unfettered. my heart has sunken deep inside my chest, wrapped in wool blankets. read to me. sing to me. let us lie here and rest, please. 

stroke out

http://eatrunplay.com/how-to-properly-implement-a-low-sugar-diet/

real talk

the dashing man attracts, the sensitive boy binds. i don't think i was meant to see; i'm certain that one does not belong to me. 

in absentia

"my mind feels like it's been changed, but i don't remember fussing with it." 


he shrugged and said, "looks the same to me." 

witches it?

could standing at the precipice be precisely this

or looking into truth again 

quelling all life's viciousness, pushing mine further in

curtains velvety little versions part their ways: begin

to right the wrist enclenched embrace

throw those suckers in their place

i have to have it now, please wait

admittance

passion must pass for love to be born.

"i never thought i'd need so many people"

take it back

so, it has finally happened.

only a few days ago i described this love as amazing, unique, because i have been loved without question, tirelessly. no one before has ever been able to sustain such feelings. i am exhausting, i know.

i never try to ruin it. i am too afraid, too stupid, to even know what i'm doing as i do it. but i clutch, and plead, and cry -- even if nothing is out of place. 

my worst characteristic is probably my talking. i say so much, sometimes in innuendo but also directly. i can't explain it anymore. all i know is that i say very few negative things, and reveal no secrets, although i classify almost nothing as secret. i talk about my love and my fear. i want reassurance that the love was real. has he been with others? with you? do you think he loved you? does he love me? why does it hurt so much?

and there is a knowing, all of them noticing every glance, that would not be if it were not for my communicated worries. this is the crime that can't be understood. it is so vague, but i know it is real because it makes me ill to think about it. i know i have betrayed. i know if he witnessed any one of these thousands of words shared, he would be hurt. 

i said i don't acknowledge much as secret. i really only needed to keep one thing quiet, and that is my love itself. i gave it away, everyday. i'm so sorry. now i weep for all the little pieces i've lost. 

i don't know how to love. 

arrest the bleeding

Ernest Hemingway shot himself fifty years ago today. Thanks, NPR.

note: I have not yet slept, so it is still, "today."

get lost

How hard it was to turn back! I circled round and cross, keeping the idea: it's only coincidence. Never mind that I knew the house wasn't for me. No pets allowed. Still, it was enough to justify my looking there.

I'd always hated subdivisions. First, out of jealousy -- I grew up way off-road, and drank water from a cistern. Later, it was an effort to not conform. as in, that'll never happen to me, man. I still can't see the appeal. these neighborhoods strive for uniformity. some even have rules about fences and mailboxes. I would hate to grow old in such a development. I suspect the sameness might contribute to the early-onset dementia I'm certain to develop.

I'd become claustrophobic and dizzy from driving up and down the same connecting streets for twenty minutes. I dared myself to be the chicken who crossed the road. as soon as I pulled in, I laughed at myself and spoke aloud, "stop the car. turn around. you don't want to be this." and I did. I let my real self navigate, for once.

so pleased I was, I thought of enjoying the carnival on the short horizon. I had seen it the week before, so it couldn't have much time left. I wanted to elate and terrify myself on the Ferris wheel. turn, turn, pause. the stops are the hardest part. literally suspended in space, you feel both giant and useless as your every sense absorbs the view. I thought I could probably see downtown from the top if the smog weren't so thick.

then I realized I might see other things very close up. maybe a crisp family dressed to match one another according to age and gender. big, white smiles and curious faces. or, since the evening was almost gone, maybe they'd be tired and rumpled. the father would sway like a heavy tree, his boughs hanging low, barely clutching the children he carries. the very smallest one is feeding, her cheeks sticky with sweat on her mother's breast. no matter, this would be a family content and spent from a long day together.

perhaps I could slip by without notice. I could hide behind a funnel cake or an overstuffed toy I'd won throwing darts at balloons. no one would look at the barely-bathed heavy woman walking alone, anyway.

but to see hurts more than to be seen, and I have no way of hiding happy families. so I drove.

footloose and fancy free

Luna pressed her throat onto my wrist while I obsessed on this damned phone. I felt the cartilage of her windpipe give a little when she swallowed. She licks her lips and swallows quite often; I read that it's a sign of anxiety. She also let out a deep sigh so I'd know she was annoyed as well.

"Come on now, I'm doing this for you. I'm looking for the perfect place for you to play and have a little brother or sister."

She simply raised her eyebrows and looked away. "Whatever."

I wish she could speak English.