rwd fwd
msg on the dl
random! older
current

these lovethings that are bothering me need to be worked out where I can see them instead of just in my head

13 February 2007
4:08 pm

I guess my grandmother was right. What we talked about, even though I was already aware of it, is hitting a little harder than I thought. Seeping through all the layers to explain why I can't casually date someone, why I can't sit still by myself sometimes, why I can't be by myself. By myself. Fill that glass for me, won't you dear?

It's striking me with a vibration I can't shake and to realise the depth and age of the contusion is to open it all the way, let it breathe, let the light in. Open it all the way and there is a rush of air that chaps the lips and reddens the cheeks like a snowstorm, like a whirlwind.

Just.. something. I just need someone, something; please.

There is nothing; there is no one; there is only yourself.

But this is not fair. I just need someone, something, not a lot, just enough to tide me over; please.

Worse than any drug--this is what I crave the most. Take this empty place and fill it to the brim or at least wet the edges; speak no words; just do it; quickly now, before time runs out, before the dark descends before I feel it again

or rather, do not feel it

because for so long I have been looking for what I have been missing

and this is not to implicate that it was never given to me, never filled; it was. in its ways. The negative space indicates that once there was a positive , ________

however, now there must be new ways constructed if I ever hope to avoid a future as a bitter old crone

and I would love for some assistance, I would love for some godamned assistance, because when it comes right down to it, when I strip away my self-inflicted cynicism and peer out from behind the walls that are strong enough that scores of masons could not hope to deconstruct them, I--I just want to be in love again. I don't want to just be in love, I want to love and be loved equally; I want to feel some godamned comfort, acceptance and security; I want to make confession: I am weak and tired and cannot do it on my own; I weave lies when I say I do not need it, can live without it, will be fine--just fine--without it; forever and ever, amen.

So you see, where I am--what I am learning. Perhaps these truths are as obvious to you as they are to me, but they needed to be said. If I do not face them, I will continue to pretend they are not there, much to their dislike. I have faith that I will be able to plug the hole from which everything has drained; like a whirlpool in a dream I had as a small child--family sits in the car as it sinks and spins out of control, round and round and down the bathtub drain. I have faith that once I plug this drain, the cracks will seal themselves, the chamber will fill once again and this time--this time we will not trickle out around the edges of a temporary stopper.

Fill that glass for me, won't you dear?
Get it yourself, ma'am.

Thank you for your rapt and undivided attention.