Reinstating...
I'm going to put that entry back up, because it is
still true...
But with this addition- my first public admission,
other than the introduction of The Silly Song, will not be
just
the anger or frustration. Instead, it will be that, plus the others from last
night as I read. People can read into it what they want. We know what it
means.
=====
Foolish and stupid.
And quiet. And silent. And unable to talk.
For the best, we say. Because it is needed.
To tell the truth, it sucks.
I have rarely been negative about anything (other than the regular and expected complaints about school). And I don't want to be negative now. But I really don't want to breathe for a while.
Don't want to interact with anyone else. Madness? Don't know. Can't feel anything right now. Tell you later? Since I want to tell you everything? I guess it will be here. Here, or "Days Without," which you may or may not ever read.
I haven't heard from the local publisher. It was just an e-mail, one attachment- "The Ugly Man." Maybe I am just the closet poet I admitted to being so many long years ago. So many long years. And I am still 17.
Maybe it's time to grow up? But I don't know how, and I don't want to. And there are times when this is good for me- it helps me write, helps me compose, helps me realize that teen angst doesn't end at 20, we just call it something else, like depression or dysfunctional socialization or antisocial behavior and pretend that fixes things. But, as I once heard, just because they have a name for it doesn't mean they know what it is. So, for lack of better words, it is still teen angst.
Did you hear that?
=====
With some changes... I hope this helps. It's late.. not sure I am thinking correctly.
"How come you never told anybody about being [angry]?"
"It was selfish," he said. "I didn’t want to think about it any more than I had to."
I said, "I'm asking so I don't do whatever it was you wanted to avoid. The reason you didn't tell people, I mean.
He smiled at me. "Well put."
Then he took off his glasses and cleaned them, which was what he did when he was organizing his thoughts. He told me that the main reason was that he didn't want people treating him like a [victim] instead of who he was.
What does it mean? Means that, though I do feel, and that, though I am frustrated, that is not what is important when it comes to being honest with each other. These feelings are temporary and not what a relationship should be based on. As I lay in bed, trying to sleep, I imagined you reading and thinking that I was trying to chastise... I don’t know.. chastise you, chastise myself, chastise C and L for showing up early, chastise the world (because I could). But that is not what it was. It was a lashing out at no one, least of all you. It was my one angry burst at the universe, similar, no doubt, to the Fiftieth Installment. You'll note that 50 does not appear online anywhere. You are one of four people to have read it.
I am still awake, still reading Girls' Guide, still breathing, and still thinking of how easily you smiled at me, how much you laughed, and how much the little things you do mean to me. And how I love that about you, how I love that you can make me smile and laugh and celebrate the moment, the minute, hour... my entire life! And it IS a celebration of my entire life! I am this person because of who I was, and now I am this person because of you.
I feel your tears on your sheets tonight, damp places, quiet, hidden. Maybe it's just me being silly, but I do. And I crumble inside to feel you hurt. That does not mean I don’t want to know that, that I want to be oblvious to it. On the contrary, I want to know, because only then can I try to help you get over that, as you have helped me get over so much.. and so quickly! Not because of the things we've done, but because of the looks you’ve given me, the smiles, the chuckles, the laughter, the glances sideways, the whooshing of your hair. It is the little things.
It hurts because I love you. So much. And to be distant from you hurts. And that is what I was expressing, but it came out far too angry. And as I lay there, I did not realize, until now, that the thing in my stomach keeping me awake was the hurt you feel because of the things we've said tonight. Because you do love me, just as much as I love you.
I don;’ know when I'll get to sleep tonight. Tomorrow is a long day- school, laser tag, then probably a movie with C and B after that. But I will be online whenever I am home. Beyond tomorrow, I don't know what I am doing. One day at a time, as Alcoholics Anonymous professes. One day without you at a time.
Sleep. Dream. Dream good dreams. Dream of the amazing! Dream of the fantastic! Dream of those things that make you happiest! Maybe they are gummi bears and apple pie. Maybe it is Hello Kitty and jeff Mangum. Or, Jeff Mangum wearing Hello Kitty underwear. Scary thought.
I have to be at school in 6 hours.. and waking up (assuming) in 4 and half. I'll have the cell.
And our ring spins on my finger as I think of you, constantly.
=====
You asked, rather rhetorically, why anyone would ever want to talk to you because it was so difficult!
That's not the difficult part. The difficult part is the not talking, the being apart. And that I fully understand! Yes, it is very hard to be apart from you, so much so that the instances when we do see each other, when we do talk, when we do chat online, my entire body is on fire and my ears fill with your voice, even when it is just imagined while reading your words on the screen. My mind is filled with your smile and your laugh, and my fingers ache to touch yours, just as my eyes reach out with invisible beams to delve into your eyes, my soul following close behind, diving in, drowning. My soul! I didn't think I had one, anymore. And here it is, swimming in your eyes, breathing in the waters of your tears and the currents of your thoughts.
You are amazing, and you continue to amaze me. I am filled with wonder with every letter that appears on my side of the ether, with every syllable spoken over the phone, with every dream that connects me to you and every thought that echoes within both our minds.
I am nervous as I write this... I am sweating, not because of the heat, though it is warm in the house at night, but because I am having small panic attacks, thinking of what it means not to talk with you, meanwhile talking with you via e-mail, hoping you will still want me to send them.
I am nervous. I am always nervous around you, because you mean so much, you are so much. "Goddess" is not enough. Goddess, life, universe, existence. These words pale in comparison to the hole in me that you have filled.
And so I write, whether I am a writer or not, I write.
I finished Girls' Guide. I was enjoying Jane's relationship with Archie, though he was a bit of an ass, and I hope I am not Archie the Ass.
I think I can try to sleep now, with three hours available to me. I will pull one of your study days... two hours of sleep and functioning. There is a faculty meeting all morning, starting at 9, though I have to be there at 7:20 and will be there by 6:50, I think.
I don't know if my e-mails can stop. They, and you, are so much a part of me, I can't imagine not telling you everything... running to the store, off for dinner, out for the evening.
<breathes>
Love.
=====
Foolish and stupid.
And quiet. And silent. And unable to talk.
For the best, we say. Because it is needed.
To tell the truth, it sucks.
I have rarely been negative about anything (other than the regular and expected complaints about school). And I don't want to be negative now. But I really don't want to breathe for a while.
Don't want to interact with anyone else. Madness? Don't know. Can't feel anything right now. Tell you later? Since I want to tell you everything? I guess it will be here. Here, or "Days Without," which you may or may not ever read.
I haven't heard from the local publisher. It was just an e-mail, one attachment- "The Ugly Man." Maybe I am just the closet poet I admitted to being so many long years ago. So many long years. And I am still 17.
Maybe it's time to grow up? But I don't know how, and I don't want to. And there are times when this is good for me- it helps me write, helps me compose, helps me realize that teen angst doesn't end at 20, we just call it something else, like depression or dysfunctional socialization or antisocial behavior and pretend that fixes things. But, as I once heard, just because they have a name for it doesn't mean they know what it is. So, for lack of better words, it is still teen angst.
Did you hear that?
=====
With some changes... I hope this helps. It's late.. not sure I am thinking correctly.
"How come you never told anybody about being [angry]?"
"It was selfish," he said. "I didn’t want to think about it any more than I had to."
I said, "I'm asking so I don't do whatever it was you wanted to avoid. The reason you didn't tell people, I mean.
He smiled at me. "Well put."
Then he took off his glasses and cleaned them, which was what he did when he was organizing his thoughts. He told me that the main reason was that he didn't want people treating him like a [victim] instead of who he was.
What does it mean? Means that, though I do feel, and that, though I am frustrated, that is not what is important when it comes to being honest with each other. These feelings are temporary and not what a relationship should be based on. As I lay in bed, trying to sleep, I imagined you reading and thinking that I was trying to chastise... I don’t know.. chastise you, chastise myself, chastise C and L for showing up early, chastise the world (because I could). But that is not what it was. It was a lashing out at no one, least of all you. It was my one angry burst at the universe, similar, no doubt, to the Fiftieth Installment. You'll note that 50 does not appear online anywhere. You are one of four people to have read it.
I am still awake, still reading Girls' Guide, still breathing, and still thinking of how easily you smiled at me, how much you laughed, and how much the little things you do mean to me. And how I love that about you, how I love that you can make me smile and laugh and celebrate the moment, the minute, hour... my entire life! And it IS a celebration of my entire life! I am this person because of who I was, and now I am this person because of you.
I feel your tears on your sheets tonight, damp places, quiet, hidden. Maybe it's just me being silly, but I do. And I crumble inside to feel you hurt. That does not mean I don’t want to know that, that I want to be oblvious to it. On the contrary, I want to know, because only then can I try to help you get over that, as you have helped me get over so much.. and so quickly! Not because of the things we've done, but because of the looks you’ve given me, the smiles, the chuckles, the laughter, the glances sideways, the whooshing of your hair. It is the little things.
It hurts because I love you. So much. And to be distant from you hurts. And that is what I was expressing, but it came out far too angry. And as I lay there, I did not realize, until now, that the thing in my stomach keeping me awake was the hurt you feel because of the things we've said tonight. Because you do love me, just as much as I love you.
I don;’ know when I'll get to sleep tonight. Tomorrow is a long day- school, laser tag, then probably a movie with C and B after that. But I will be online whenever I am home. Beyond tomorrow, I don't know what I am doing. One day at a time, as Alcoholics Anonymous professes. One day without you at a time.
Sleep. Dream. Dream good dreams. Dream of the amazing! Dream of the fantastic! Dream of those things that make you happiest! Maybe they are gummi bears and apple pie. Maybe it is Hello Kitty and jeff Mangum. Or, Jeff Mangum wearing Hello Kitty underwear. Scary thought.
I have to be at school in 6 hours.. and waking up (assuming) in 4 and half. I'll have the cell.
And our ring spins on my finger as I think of you, constantly.
=====
You asked, rather rhetorically, why anyone would ever want to talk to you because it was so difficult!
That's not the difficult part. The difficult part is the not talking, the being apart. And that I fully understand! Yes, it is very hard to be apart from you, so much so that the instances when we do see each other, when we do talk, when we do chat online, my entire body is on fire and my ears fill with your voice, even when it is just imagined while reading your words on the screen. My mind is filled with your smile and your laugh, and my fingers ache to touch yours, just as my eyes reach out with invisible beams to delve into your eyes, my soul following close behind, diving in, drowning. My soul! I didn't think I had one, anymore. And here it is, swimming in your eyes, breathing in the waters of your tears and the currents of your thoughts.
You are amazing, and you continue to amaze me. I am filled with wonder with every letter that appears on my side of the ether, with every syllable spoken over the phone, with every dream that connects me to you and every thought that echoes within both our minds.
I am nervous as I write this... I am sweating, not because of the heat, though it is warm in the house at night, but because I am having small panic attacks, thinking of what it means not to talk with you, meanwhile talking with you via e-mail, hoping you will still want me to send them.
I am nervous. I am always nervous around you, because you mean so much, you are so much. "Goddess" is not enough. Goddess, life, universe, existence. These words pale in comparison to the hole in me that you have filled.
And so I write, whether I am a writer or not, I write.
I finished Girls' Guide. I was enjoying Jane's relationship with Archie, though he was a bit of an ass, and I hope I am not Archie the Ass.
I think I can try to sleep now, with three hours available to me. I will pull one of your study days... two hours of sleep and functioning. There is a faculty meeting all morning, starting at 9, though I have to be there at 7:20 and will be there by 6:50, I think.
I don't know if my e-mails can stop. They, and you, are so much a part of me, I can't imagine not telling you everything... running to the store, off for dinner, out for the evening.
<breathes>
Love.
Posted: Fri - August 4, 2006 at 04:06 PM
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Published On: Mar 02, 2007 07:50 PM
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Published On: Mar 02, 2007 07:50 PM