Thursday, December 30, 2010

It's hard for me to think that you actually want me in that way.
Why? I'm not necessarily sure. I've been wanted before, I think.
I am usually, whether you like it or not, an after-thought.
Though some beg to differ,
and if I am that, I'm accepting.
I'm accepting it regardless of my future-self.
Fuck that embodiment of myself and my ideals.

I've never thought of it that way before.
I've also never been this honest.
I've lied to you twice, that I've counted.
And only a week in, whew.
What a strain.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

In case you forget:

"I like when you touch my shoulders like that. It makes me feel strong."
"I love you--"
"You love Utah. That's cool."
"Something like honey--"
"Yeah, like sweetie--"
"Like, baby."
"Too far away, Jessi."
"Having all of your clothes on sucks."
"I wish Sperber were here."
"When I say things like, 'sternum' I think, 'who cares?'"
"I don't want you to ever regret any night you spend with me."
"Where's Aaron Brodersen when you need him?"
"I kind of missed you."
"I don't know who's creepier:
Me for having hairy legs, or you for liking them. I think it's you."

Sunday, December 26, 2010

This is from December 26th, 2010.
Fucking hell. I probably should have listened to my first instinct.


I am not exactly on cloud nine. Like I thought I'd be.
I'm not feeling girlish.
Because what if I am just your safety plan?
I have a feeling that you're unstable enough to use me in that way.
Even though I know you wouldn't realize it, it's what you're doing.


It's like I was sitting with a plate in front of me. And it was empty.
It was empty for a really long time, and when I pictured you on my platter,
you looked a lot tastier than you seem at the moment.
And now that you're there, you seem like you've been cut in half.
Like you have a huge hole where the hearty, tasty goodness used to be.

Whether I want to believe it or not,
life is not all about getting some for me.
I want you to taste and BE as delicious as you were a month ago.

I wish I could just rip you apart and devour you so you could always be mine, and I wouldn't have to worry about my plate anymore.
Because you wouldn't be in front of me, you'd be inside, sitting, swimming through me.

The back of my head feels like someone nailed a board to it.
That's the fear. It's laid it's egg right there in the back of me skull.
And I hope it doesn't hatch all over you tomorrow.

I'm so scared. I haven't been this scared in awhile.

I need to sleep.
No more of this drug of Sleep Deprivation.
No more.

Is that what you want?
Well of course.
I'll do anything for you.

Thursday, December 16, 2010


I understand why you didn't like Steve Martin, okay?
I understand why you never played barbies with me, and always made Leroy.
I get that I was, in retrospect, a replacement child.
I'm sorry I never called you
I'm sorry I never wrote
I'm sorry I didn't tell you how much I thought about you.
And I'm sorry that I lost the music box you gave me.

I think that it sucks that this is all I can give you right now.
I think that it's a shame that I am a teenager, oh so devoted to the art of attention whoring.

I wish you could see me all grown up.
I just know you'd be proud of me.
Because for some reason, you never once noticed a fault of mine.

And I'm angry. I'm not angsty. I'm not upset.
I am angry and hurt and selfish
for wanting you to stay.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

And came a comrade for the taking

I tend to get frustrated a lot.
And nothing I do, whether it be an attempt to rid me of said stress, or just anything to try and calm or soothe or make joyful myself and anyone else, helps.

Everything I do must be a dilemma.
A conundrum.

Simplicity within my own head would be nice sometimes.
Because even if I forget one thing,
there is another lurking in the swells.

I don't really want to talk about anything.
But I do. Every single day. Out of a wretched habit.
A ritual. A routine that I've fallen into.

You know, I think perhaps it's time to be quiet.
Because when I talk, I only complicate.
And no one would mind.
In fact, I like listening to Annemarie, Jordan, Spencer, Mason, Nicole, Avery, Wade..etc. more than I like the sound of my own whining. Or my own questions.

Perhaps it's time to ponder.
It's time to focus.
And time to un-focus, if you get my meaning.

But within all this solitude,
it would be nice to have a comrade.