Jan. 25, 2012 - 10:18 a.m.
good morning, future self, you wake up as an engineer this wednesday light-headed half-drugged but still cheery day, and you wonder why the words haven't gone out yet, why the parties haven't been held, and so on and so on. i'm eating a mint ball dressed entirely head-to-toe in gym regalia, amazing black tracksuit and the wrist thingies and a headband so i can part my fringe and get away with it, new black and hot pink trainers, mascara, eyeliner and a will to kill the pill drowning in my bloodstream. my therapist had this fabulous albeit tedious idea of me having a 'worry hour' almost every time the urge hits (i can't remember her words clearly but she instinctively reminded me that when it shouldn't be 'worry hour' then WH - as referred to from now on - would wait until its respectable time). anyway. this shit is just for me, to trace some thoughts, to have WH here instead of on random café receipts (not big enough to contain the mess i need to let out). i'm waiting for my new guy, M, to call so we can go kick-boxing together like normal friends/couple/people with sexual tension do, so i'm not going to waste time.
WH #1 of wednesday 25th of january 2012
1- M. let's start fresh. i'm worried about last night's, comment le dire, situation. it was perfectly cute and daring at the start, cuddling and watching a gangsta movie in his car (we later decided the car was made for us because it fit our 'needs' so well - funny enough we have the same car at home which serves the same purpose for me and my sisters which is weird so i won't continue with that). this is storytelling/worry hour jotting - i need to document - i am deeply ashamed of my obsession, but there you have it. unfolded. ready. go. he's the gentlest i've ever been with and you must know that at this point, i'm almost twenty three years old and i've been with two greatly inspiring mental cases (M is looking like a third one, and i don't mind it much, i mean, i can't even if i wanted to, being a mental case myself). i don't remember shit from the movie. we didn't go far, we just discovered, and then he said, "i want you to be mine" and i think i did something along the lines of cream my pants and then confirm his statement - I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING. this is madness, you can't go on making promises like that, you're going to fuck it up, like always. but i had a fleeting nanosecond thought when he said that - i thought i could handle it, i woke up this morning still thinking i could handle it, and why shouldn't i find out? M is a beautiful laugh in the middle of my manuscript, seriously, expect the romantic to come out right now, he's so chilled i can't escape his refined apathy. i WANT it. i want to be him. he shares his weed with me and we laugh because we're too buzzed and the trees are moving and the weather is definitely on our side - but no talks of the weather, that's just boring. last night we couldn't get little miss mary jane so we settled for my stash of clonazepam, a few milligrams for each, dizzy dancing again, dizzy up my girl, and we dug it, like the dark sea which i never looked at twice. well i worry that this will make word around town, we have too many mutual friends it's ridiculous, he probably knows my own brothers. i know he promised not to be the kind to tell but he also promised not to break my heart (which he will) (wanna bet on it?) (and then no pill in the world can save me, though lucky enough i'm back on antidepressants like a circus brain). i just broke my mind december 28th, it's too soon to get heavy into someone's skin, i think, i want to structure this somehow, make it work in all the normal ways - as normal as a pothead and a depressive can make it work, but, yeah. oh, and i worry about the handcuffs and the gun that he keeps in his car. we handcuffed our hands together and just smiled, weirdly, fascinating fascinating, i just love creatures like that.
2- A. my god. i don't even have the words these days. i called him stoned a couple of days ago and he was crazy out of tune, like a marine creature, breathing a medium i will never know - it's true, i decided that for this boy, i will never know, no matter how many times he calls me up with stories about his greatest fears and his pending projects in a reality-sickening world and his pregnant junkie friend who "needs my help" (see, my pills). i won't find his heart out because he killed it with his stupid mind and now he has nothing, wants to give me nothing, wants to ask me for pills and take me to another city for a nice dinner next to the fountains and then disappear like our winter, too far for me to reach, sober or otherwise. i don't blame him - i've killed my heart once or twice but i can't be on edge with him, i can't wait for him to tell me i'm so beautiful before i kick sand off my shoes every damn night. i'm worried that i'll never escape him, that he'll run in and out of my world, crazed and stoned, ruining the relationships i need to cling on to (for the sake of my much needed sanity), and i'm worried that i'll let him, because i always do. i can't shake this boy off my shoulders. i can't imagine my life without him - i'd go to stupid extremes to make sure he stays, distant or not, stays and touches my face every full moon. i don't feel his loyalty, it's been almost two years for us, but i don't feel anything, i feel that he can wrap me in a gutter filled with stars and come check on me every year, to see if i've found love yet, and if i have, that he wishes me all the happiness of the trees and i, mad-eyed, as always, would say to him "...but i wish it was you".
3-
well honestly that's all i can think about. or want to write about.