I can keep myself on time
getting up by 6:06
not flossing, constant pedalling
I get up by 6:06
if I go to sleep by 12.
I go to sleep by 12
if I lay down by 10
not crying, constant anger
until my head cools off.
I can control everything except my head.

So you think all you got for your birthday was stood up and a bad check?

Well, maybe that is all you got. But maybe thats all you deserve. Maybe you should date N. It sounds like madness, and you know he's in love with someone else, and you'd be in way too deep way too fast. Maybe you should just try being normal without having a relationship with a significant other. Maybe you should tell j what is really going down, so that you don't have to deal with the pain of letting it run its course and realizing you are just another girl that comes up to the desk and talks to him.

good job, honey. You found yet another person to make you feel shitty about yourself. How do I find these people? I hang on so tightly to people who show me, tell me they don't want to hang back. Thats what I do. I find people who make excuses, make shows, make me indifferent, people that don't or won't or can't give a shit. People who can only offer me rides home and nothing else. Thats alright, girl. Its all going to be alright, even if you never ever find someone who really just loves you, just the way you are. Its going to be alright, even if you die tomorrow. Its going to be all right, even if you push yourself into this stupid, crummy relationship again. Its going to be alright.

For Free

Going to counseling today. I need to bleed myself dry of my boy addiction. Liz says she's not worried about me; I'm just on hiatus. My ridiculous self-esteem level has become visible to me in the last few days. The question of happiness is not so well hidden when I am alone so much. Or, I am caused much pain by the very fact of myself, and having no one around to mask it with, I feel much more unhappy than I usually do.
And there's this fucking mec who is driving me nuts. Absolutely nuts. He's not really even doing anything, but my little mind gets so wrapped around everything that I implode everyday from the stress of it. I absolutely implode.
It really only makes me think I'm fucking sick in the head. That no one would ever want to date me, which is true. I just don't know who I am anymore. I always thought I knew; I was so wrapped up in things that it was easy to say that. But I don't know anything. I don't even know what it is that I really want to do with myself next summer. Not even in a hypothetical sense, like I could do whatever I wanted. I can't even dream up the one thing that would make me happy.
I think it is the farm, but I question whether or not that is because of the people all around there or if it is my time to myself there. Really, its the only thing I can think of; going to a farm in France by myself, learning French, eating good food and meeting good people. But where is the me in that? Where is the me? Who the fuck am I?
I can't think of any singular activity that I could fully commit myself to next summer that would just be me, alone, in silence, enjoying myself. I can't picture the silence. I can't picture any of it. Every song, every goddamn movie is a story of people together:
and when you were a kid you were king of all the carrot flowers
and holy rattle snakes that fell from the sky...
this is the room one afternoon when I knew I could love you
and sit above singing down into your soul
into that secret place where no one dares to go

I ride the bus
and think about number relationships
I walk home
and think about
february 2005
I sit at home
and try not to think
I lay in bed
and read about myself
I dream about swimming pools
community activities
I am awake
I get angry at everything
someone is turning the nobs to my head

You been around enough to see
that if you think you're in
you better check with me
because I take full advantage
of every man I meet
I get away
almost every day
with what the girls call
what the girls call
what the girls call
the girls call murder

love poems are the hardest to write

because love is so contextual
and how do I know its true
how do I know anything
about myself.
One day I'm writing things that make me cry in the bathroom for half an hour between classes, and the next I figure I've got my hands on something real. Something really aware, something unpainful and unobsessive, but the truth is I don't know anything about myself. I don't know what to say to you, when you give me your number. I don't whether to call you right now or to turn you down, turn you around, spit you out. I don't know if this is good, and I get the feeling you don't know either. Don't try hard for me, okay? Don't be too sure about me. Please. Because its impossible. Bail on me if you want. I'll give you another chance when you really know me. That's real.

The truth is that James will never show up in Fayetteville, eyes shining when he sees you at your desk. The truth is that all he has to do is drunkenly tell you to come visit, and you buy the tickets, knowing that he won't call you back. The truth is that your life is pretty fucking lame and full of lame people and lame relationships. The truth is that you are beating a dead horse trying to love pat. You can't trust him anymore. The truth is that your sister hates you, and you are only making her adolescence more trying. The truth is that Jimmy doesn't even know you, and if he did, it wouldn't work out anyway. The truth is that you only see your father when he needs money for crack. The truth is that you have no one, and you are a hateful bitch because of it, unable to get anyone. The truth is that you are so empty.

is it fair to say
in the context of only me and you
you made me think that not
that everyone was worthless, so much
as that I was worth less
than you
it is true that I know you were stupid and wrong
but somehow it crept up on me
and its all your fault

although things are hard now, although things are especially hard now, good things have been happening, especially in the family realm. I have had a few really good family interactions in the past few weeks. The man-diet is what's killing me (I'm a maneater and I need to stop), bad time. I realize its just my mind, running in circles after things, but in a weird way, thats just making it worse. In knowing that the relationships I want to pursue should not be pursued, I'm actually getting to know someone, in little steps, sort of like a normal beginning of any relationship would go; independent of the obsessive caretaking I would normally indulge and not fanatically acting on my every impulse to drag him in, just sort of prancing along in a light, unattached fashion. This is not who I really am, of course. The problem is that I don't catch every impulse, so its kind of like I just sort of like this guy and he probably knows it but I should (sadly) stay away from him, and I have a feeling this may culminate very tragically if I don't really control myself. It is impossible for me to act like I am totally uninterested, because that's not true, and it is extremely difficult for me to not obsessively engage with this person, but that is what I'm trying to do. It feels very sad (its so hard to not do things that you know will give you that instant high - you reach out and get a reaction, your frontal lobe calls it love and releases endorphins), but I think avoiding the mania that is inherent with pursuit (it should more likely be referred to as "hunt" or "domesticate" in my case) is good for my brain. A lot of this reminds me very much of meditation: I want to do something and I stop myself. This is very hard and frustrating, and sometimes when I do this I see the urge for what it is, just a momentary feeling, not really valuable or real, transient.

The hard part is not hating myself for those things, the hardest part is becoming comfortable with the nature of my mind, which I judge to be worthless, detrimental, shallow when in fact it is not anything. My relationships with other people (namely the fam) have benefited instantaneously with my non judgment of their minds. This has been surprisingly easy, in the large part- I just stop thinking about them, or what makes me mad about them. I stop worrying, I don't inquire further into their problems. There is a certain point when this exercise stops being a relaxing one and starts being a stressor, because I still believe that at some point, if you love someone, you step in to their lives and do something for them they can't do themselves. I believe this to a hazardous extent, and still do not understand the nature of relationships in which this is deserving.