It's all so quiet.
Apr. 22nd, 2001 06:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thejunipertreeI burned my thumb quite badly not that long ago
as I was cooking dinner. I also managed to throw
half of my own plate out when no one was looking,
because I truly haven't felt like eating in the
past week and a half. Usually, I'll force it down
because if I don't, I'm given thirty three shades
of hell. Today was different.
Pensive and lonely have been colouring me all day.
This seems to be a trend that doesn't have
a foreseeable stop. Wishing for it to stop doesn't
produce any results. Nor does slapping on the
happy mask. I've decided to just stop pretending.
To everyone. I'm sick of the falseness. I'm tired
of the illusion.
Speaking of illusion, the Orphan was under one
that I was someone else. I'm not quite sure if
he's still believing this, but I've done my best
to disprove the theory. It makes me laugh, in a
way. That someone thinks I'm someone else
pretending to be someone else.
Richard has just sent me an email. Full of
cheeriness and I love you's. He says he'll be
online soon, but we'll see about that. It's been
said before. I've been a complete bitch to him
lately, for which I'd dearly love to slap myself
for. It's truely not fair to him. I just don't
know what to do. I despair of never seeing him
again. It's a gut feeling. The past loves to
hit replay over and over and over. Will it be
my past or his past that flashes across the
screen? The world may never know.
I believe that this is my punishment for the
way I acted in my relationship with Bill, though.
For all the veils of secrecy. The half-truths.
The behind the back and round again. I'm vermin
for the things that I've done. And being forced
apart from someone I actually /want/ to be with
now is justifiable punishment, I would venture
to guess. I deserve to be punished. For all of
the things I did, I don't think I really even
deserve to still be breathing. I became something
that I despised. All in an effort to give my
heart away to someone who just didn't want it.
To someone who was more in love with the idea of
me, than me in actuality.
Thoughts of pills gather in my brain. I remember
the bottle of muscle relaxers I was prescribed
a few months prior. They would go nicely with
some vodka and cigarettes. I carry them around
with me like a shield. Knowing that if I ever
needed oblivion, I had my passport right in my
purse. How very fucking Anne Sexton of me.
Pathetic.
angst angst angst
as I was cooking dinner. I also managed to throw
half of my own plate out when no one was looking,
because I truly haven't felt like eating in the
past week and a half. Usually, I'll force it down
because if I don't, I'm given thirty three shades
of hell. Today was different.
Pensive and lonely have been colouring me all day.
This seems to be a trend that doesn't have
a foreseeable stop. Wishing for it to stop doesn't
produce any results. Nor does slapping on the
happy mask. I've decided to just stop pretending.
To everyone. I'm sick of the falseness. I'm tired
of the illusion.
Speaking of illusion, the Orphan was under one
that I was someone else. I'm not quite sure if
he's still believing this, but I've done my best
to disprove the theory. It makes me laugh, in a
way. That someone thinks I'm someone else
pretending to be someone else.
Richard has just sent me an email. Full of
cheeriness and I love you's. He says he'll be
online soon, but we'll see about that. It's been
said before. I've been a complete bitch to him
lately, for which I'd dearly love to slap myself
for. It's truely not fair to him. I just don't
know what to do. I despair of never seeing him
again. It's a gut feeling. The past loves to
hit replay over and over and over. Will it be
my past or his past that flashes across the
screen? The world may never know.
I believe that this is my punishment for the
way I acted in my relationship with Bill, though.
For all the veils of secrecy. The half-truths.
The behind the back and round again. I'm vermin
for the things that I've done. And being forced
apart from someone I actually /want/ to be with
now is justifiable punishment, I would venture
to guess. I deserve to be punished. For all of
the things I did, I don't think I really even
deserve to still be breathing. I became something
that I despised. All in an effort to give my
heart away to someone who just didn't want it.
To someone who was more in love with the idea of
me, than me in actuality.
Thoughts of pills gather in my brain. I remember
the bottle of muscle relaxers I was prescribed
a few months prior. They would go nicely with
some vodka and cigarettes. I carry them around
with me like a shield. Knowing that if I ever
needed oblivion, I had my passport right in my
purse. How very fucking Anne Sexton of me.
Pathetic.
angst angst angst
