11:40 p.m.

regrets 5 months later
I want to write to him but he doesn't write back. I don't think my feelings are mutual. it was just an afternoon. I felt a connection, but he didn't. the difference is that I read his comic as I have for the past three years. he has no reminder of me.
and in this way I am stereotypically female. I get emotionally attached via sexual encounters. I can't forget. I want him to feel the way I do, but I know it's better that this is unreciprocated. at least this way there are no complications.
but. I still think about things. mostly his eyes and how creepy-beautiful they were as he fingered me to orgasm. and lunch, realizing that we actually had things in common. weirdo gender abnormality. math tattoos. wrestling.
I never got my rematch.
instead we just made out against a brick wall and went back to his hotel room to wrestle across his bed and on the floor. cum on the carpet. pi across my chest.
if we'd had more time, if we'd had more days, if it was just he and I and not his fans and friends ... I would have written and solved equations on his back. I would have pulled out a ruler and compass and drawn him a new skeleton. we could have shared our fucked up relationship stories and tossed around theories regarding our inability to trust. our dysfunction. everyone's dysfunction.
I know I know I know this is an ideal again. he shoved my underwear in my mouth and spat on my face -- how could that have ever been an ideal before? not the spitting, just the trying.
how could I ever have been so comfortable with someone to do all that the first time we fucked?
I wish I'd licked his ass.
I wish I'd done more with the time that I had.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

11:52 a.m.

going through the stalker mode. find the exes. tack them down. but really, I only care about him. the big one. the one that ran away to california, the one that won't talk to me.
what does "goodbye forever" mean, when "forever" once meant "together?" what does "I love you no matter what" mean, when it it does start to matter, when the love isn't there?
are these lies, or just changes?

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

12:37 a.m.

it's ok to lament about the good things I have right now
when I am alone I do not want to go to sleep.
I stay up late, making the rounds of webpages. wasting time. read a book, start again, focus, relax.
when I am alone, I keep myself awake.
can't concentrate if no one else is around. everything is distracting. there's no one to sleep next to. no one to say, "come to bed."
someday we'll have our house, or our bed. someday we'll have a life that is both of us. there will be a dog and two cats and a stream nearby. bike trails and laughter and we will hold hands constantly. when we're angry, we'll fight, but we'll know the reasons behind it. then we will talk and make up and hold each other and go to sleep.
but right now I am alone and you are at home, sleeping. I am awake. thinking of you.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

02:30 a.m.

cynirealicism
someday this is all going to be gone.
right now it's like something lost in drawer, something meant to be thrown away. sometimes I think about saving it all. other times I think, no, why bother? it's mostly bad memories. it's mostly laments.

staying up late tonight. alone. I didn't stay home like I said I would. feeling guilty. feeling hurt.
wondering if this is really going to work, but-
I just can't picture me with anyone else. it's him or no one. sometimes I can't decide which would be better. maybe this is the wrong time. maybe when I'm done with college. maybe when he really figures out his priorities.

isn't that the feeling to which I always return? isn't that? inadequate. that's where my fear grows and flowers. mine and that of others. never never good enough.

sometimes the desire to not be me is so overwhelming that I don't know what to do. I can fake my bravado and say, "yeah, I'm great" but only because it's better than being depressed and saying, "wow, I suck." gets me more friends, at least. keeps 'em, too.
don't like the mood swings. the medication and therapy can only do so much. my defenses are able to rise as fast as a person is able to disappoint me. how fast is that? how fast is now?

maybe someday you'll get it.

Friday, July 11, 2008

04:41 p.m.

allocation in there, somewhere, allocated
I. have. been. fall. ing. and. think. ing. a. bout. you.
but. we. are. in. love. with. diff. er. ent. peo. ple.
and. to. geth. er. we. could. tri. umph.
you. him. me. her.
him. her. you. me.
who. cares.
it. works.
it. dreams.
I dream.

unlikely process that permeates - do you know how much you have in common? It's like we are the same couple, twisted, turned around and then shaken. there are these - similarities - and there are these - undeniabilities and did you know -- did you?
it feels good to know it, actually, as though you missed her so fucked me. and I missed him and fucked you. there are things about ourselves magnified and others forced down.
I feel like a stalker.
I want you to see what I see, but can't make you.
I want you to know, to know, to know my head.
I want the four of us to meet and spend a weekend together.
look. it's a good idea.
you just need to look at it from the right angle.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

09:16 p.m.

ranting
he hates it when I'm cold. when I put up walls. I know because he told me. and I do it because he hates it, because I believe in punishing those that hurt me. I believe in punishment.
I have been told time and time again that when things are good, they're amazing but when they're bad, it's horrible. this seems like common sense. but I am made of extremes, there is no shade of grey in my emotions. I am in the middle myself. there is no room for it any where else. I stand straddled over too many labels and too many ideologies. I can't also force my emotions into that. I'm either up or down. what's average? what's the middle?
I am who I am, and I can ignore that about you in favor of the hurt you caused me. you say, "I needed to express my anger" and I respect that but why did you have to express it in the car, in a loud voice, snidely? why did you have to sound so fucking pretentious? why couldn't you just be angry - why make it so personal?
and you still do not admit fault. you still say things like, "sorry you felt hurt," not "sorry I acted like an asshole." because you make it out like I'm some emotional female while you are the correct male. and yes, when it comes down to it, everything is about gender. I am not female. you are not male. but our chromosomes are and society says what we are, no matter how hard we try to rally against it.
it all comes down to my cunt and your cock because at the end of the day, I'm gonna be the one impaled. I will be vulnerable. I will never be able to penetrate you with any body part other than my finger. that does nothing but squirm. but you have the capabilities to impregnate me or give me STDs with your penetration. you don't know that you have all the power. that is why I am constantly at odds with the world. that is why I fight all the time. what is oppression? when it all comes down to it, it's gender.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

07:43 p.m.

an end or a beginning.
I said, "don't call me."
he said, "I won't."
then I closed the car door a little harder than necessary. walked away from the fucking '82 mercedes that started to change my perception of him. all the driving. when was the last time we rode bikes together? it used to be almost daily. now he just drives.
I know the reason behind it, I know the logic, I know all that. but it doesn't help. it doesn't. I think things like, "if he really wanted to ..." as though if he wanted to, his job wouldn't require him to have a car? right.
but I shut that door and walked. I walked. and I thought. I feel too rational. I am too ok with this. I am not saying mean things or even thinking mean things. I just want to stop fighting. he doesn't even think it's fighting. I don't know what he thinks it is. all I know is we don't see eye to eye.
I guess I'm angry. I keep thinking about his tone of voice. he had never talked to me that way, for that long. he had never kept coming back to it. I am angry. I'm angry and I don't know why I even hung out with him today. I was going to just say, "hey, I need the day to myself" but instead I pushed that aside so I could see him.
why do I not listen to my instinct?
whatever. good or bad, something's happening.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

10:42 p.m.

one after(noon)thought
I still like to think about the sex.
the walking-around, trying-to-find-a-place-to-fuck and finally "my hotel is nearby." I never thought someone would say that, I didn't think something so cliche could be met without derision but I did it. I accepted.
and his-
hand
on the back of my neck, pushing me into a wall, his hands, his mouth, and his groin
all pressing me. pressing me.
it's like blacking out, sex like that. it's why I like it. it's being someone else, someone who doesn't have to worry about what's happening. someone who isn't in control and doesn't have to call all the shots. it's so good to let go. it was so good to feel
his fingers in me, leading me to orgasm, and him pushing, pushing me against things. his breath. his eyes.
his eyes. his eyes. his mouth. his teeth.
hands and knee and legs and the way he leaned into me as I pantomimed fucking his ass. the noises he made. the moans. I always want a penis, but at that point I cursed being born with a vulva. I cursed my breasts and round stomach, my lack of testicles and vas deferens.
I bet in five years if we meet again we could do so many more things to each other. so many more degradations. I am learning. I am learning for me but I can use that knowledge in other ways.
I am so good at learning.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

11:49 p.m.

a good person doesn't necessarily make a good partner
he stood on the steps with his bicycle, chin leaning, saying, "I love you. I love you so much." I twiddled the ties to my robe. he didn't understand. love doesn't solve all problems, or pave over pain. love doesn't make trust well up like blood from a pin prick. love doesn't fill in the cracks of the gouges other relationships have left. love doesn't fix anything. love isn't a reason to stay, or to ignore, or to forget. love just makes you blind for a while until you come to your senses and realize it's just another way to get people to stay alive for a while. it's the hope of it or the having of it that keeps people from killing themselves.
I'm suicide bound and that's ok. it was written a long time ago and it only gets stronger the older I get. it might not happen for years but when I go, that's how it's gonna be. on my terms, no one else's. no compromise. just me calling the shots.
I get tired of doing that in relationships. I am impossible. that's part of why it's gonna be suicide. I am an imperfect person striving for perfection. looking for the person who understands without me having to repeat everything ten times for every instance.
I get tired of jealousy. period. I hate this world. I hate how beautiful things can be and how all of that is constantly dying. I hate the pain we cause each other. I feel like there is nothing here worth saving. I'm tired of having to think so carefully about what I say. I just want to be alone for a while. I want to trust someone, somewhere, anywhere, implicitly.
I hate my clutter and my art and my writing. I hate how I treat others and how I don't trust myself. I hate that I don't do what I say I'm going to do. I hate my anxiety and having all evidence show that it's only going to get worse as I get older. I hate being on medication, especially because I'm not convinced it even works. I hate my period. I hate PMS. I hate eating. I hate being hungry. I hate being female.
I can't imagine trusting any man again. too many times I've seen them make decisions with their penis and not their head. too many times I've seen them pack away their feelings to forget. it's so much easier to ignore than deal. I know, because sometimes I'm a man too.
I want to love a woman. it felt right. but they scare me. I don't know how to approach them or how to talk to them. I'm not very good at being a woman. but people like to think I am one. people are so frequently wrong.
tired of peers, tired of mentorees, I feel like a bad example, I feel like a bad friend, I don't feel very good at anything or about anything. I don't feel good about me.
"why are you here?"
"because as far as I know, you're still my partner."
nah, well, I guess not anymore.
just another way for me to let go. another way to cut ties. one down. a couple more to go.

Sunday, May 4, 2008