Sunday, April 25, 2004
i swear i'm invisible everyday
no one likes to read about other people falling in love, not even romantic types. people like to hear about falling out of love and the worst, most embarrassing parts of your day. the parts where you tripped down the stairs spraining your ankle, the paper cut you got at work and the spaghetti sauce you splattered all over your brand new blouse. that's what makes interesting reading. no one likes to read about dream boys and soulmates and models you'll never fuck. people like to hear about the sex you never had or if you are desperate the sex you are having, because somehow if's comforting. like if they can do it, maybe you still have a chance. at someone. people like crushes. reading about crushes is relatable. everyone has crushes and lusts. it doesn't seem to ever stop, even if you are in love, not that you are allowed to talk about if you are. i try to avoid the word boyfriend whenever i can. i say friend and david and all sorts of other things to avoid it. i don't want to sound like one of them. one of those types. one of those types of girls that is constantly raving on and on and on about this and that and this. i hated those girls. in fact, i hated all girls that got any amount of attention from a boy while i sat alone in the lunch room eating bologna sandwiches with mayonaise, soggy lettuce and kraft single slices.
my throat is still sore from last night. drinking softly from clear glasses. it doesn't take much and i'm gone. wasted. wet and eager. it was passionate but i'll leave out the details because no one wants to know about it. no one wants to know about passion. they want to know about passions. obsessions. things that make you tick. things you love. things you hate. volcanoes. japanese language. cats. they want to know that i'm still scared of mummies and the boogie man. they don't want to know that i was on top and that someone probably overheard me moaning loudly in the bathroom and i said, "but i can't help it." and i couldn't stop but i tried. i tried to whisper.
do you remember the first time someone whispered in your ear? the first game of telephone where you were convinced the message came out mangled because you overheard wrong. "cabbage fuck" doesn't even make any sense but that's what came out. alone. i think about all the mistakes i've ever done. i feel a bit better about myself when people admit the mistakes that they have done. that i'm not the only one making mistakes everyday.
everyday i look in the mirror and realize, wow, i really am here.
¶ 3:32 PM
|
no one likes to read about other people falling in love, not even romantic types. people like to hear about falling out of love and the worst, most embarrassing parts of your day. the parts where you tripped down the stairs spraining your ankle, the paper cut you got at work and the spaghetti sauce you splattered all over your brand new blouse. that's what makes interesting reading. no one likes to read about dream boys and soulmates and models you'll never fuck. people like to hear about the sex you never had or if you are desperate the sex you are having, because somehow if's comforting. like if they can do it, maybe you still have a chance. at someone. people like crushes. reading about crushes is relatable. everyone has crushes and lusts. it doesn't seem to ever stop, even if you are in love, not that you are allowed to talk about if you are. i try to avoid the word boyfriend whenever i can. i say friend and david and all sorts of other things to avoid it. i don't want to sound like one of them. one of those types. one of those types of girls that is constantly raving on and on and on about this and that and this. i hated those girls. in fact, i hated all girls that got any amount of attention from a boy while i sat alone in the lunch room eating bologna sandwiches with mayonaise, soggy lettuce and kraft single slices.
my throat is still sore from last night. drinking softly from clear glasses. it doesn't take much and i'm gone. wasted. wet and eager. it was passionate but i'll leave out the details because no one wants to know about it. no one wants to know about passion. they want to know about passions. obsessions. things that make you tick. things you love. things you hate. volcanoes. japanese language. cats. they want to know that i'm still scared of mummies and the boogie man. they don't want to know that i was on top and that someone probably overheard me moaning loudly in the bathroom and i said, "but i can't help it." and i couldn't stop but i tried. i tried to whisper.
do you remember the first time someone whispered in your ear? the first game of telephone where you were convinced the message came out mangled because you overheard wrong. "cabbage fuck" doesn't even make any sense but that's what came out. alone. i think about all the mistakes i've ever done. i feel a bit better about myself when people admit the mistakes that they have done. that i'm not the only one making mistakes everyday.
everyday i look in the mirror and realize, wow, i really am here.
¶ 3:32 PM
|
