Nothing fascinates me more than the idea that I was never what I was till I was. I don’t believe in gods or devils or heaven or hell or reincarnation or big, pink, fluffy dreams of love. Everything that you do wrong is taken down, buddy, but it ain’t by that. I contract like a mother fucker. I I I I begin many thoughts with I.
Some days the polish comes off and set me in bed with a 6-pack (12-pack these days) and I’ll be damned if I ain’t the funniest thing I ever did see. Those days you speak at me, I know you do, but your words bounce off me with no more impact than the billions of molecules doing the Charleston right in front of you. I spend plenty of time alone. Every single second I spend doing anything that isn’t exactly what I want to do is begrudged and noted and will be accounted for.
I am wary of what you do to my boy. I am very aware of what you fuckers tried with me, and that will not be done to him. You are trying now, rushing him along.
Every thought in my brain and every word formulated by this mouth has been done, chein. I have no insights. I am not a snowflake. This is what you would have said if you didn’t have other shit to do. I abhor having other shit to do, so here I am! My childhood dream of being a hermit will never come to fruition. I will not be your anything at any time. You, though…oh honey, you will be many things to me. Guilt is my favorite and most effective emotion. Yours, too, if you see what I mean.
i’m so silly
don’t know what i’m living for
One of my dearest friends spends roughly 98% of the time we spend together convincing others that I am really a soft touch, hidden behind a hard exterior. I spend that time being rude and horrible to everyone, because I feel like she’s giving me a free pass. “Such a nice girl!”
I associate everything with everything and everything I associate reminds me of everything I ever associated with. I have enemies. They might not be aware that I loathe them (and really, I got nothing against them, per se) but oh yes. I fucking despise you. I must, you see. I need conflict, I need waves to rise against. I am too damn healthy. Yeah, that was a Latin phrase used in English arguments for “by itself” or “by themselves”.
My one marketable skill is my fantastic research abilities. This talent sprung from the unholiest place, pride. Being wrong or even being not entirely knowledgeable about whatever fucking thing you just said terrifies me. So I learned to move silently, say the right thing to temporarily appease, and then dash out and look it up. I feel insecure when I don’t get the references made on “The Golden Girls”. So I look them up. When I hear a song and it reminds me that 7 years ago I didn’t know what they actually said, I look it up. When I was a junior in high-school (first semester, Pearland, Texas) my science teacher played Trivial Pursuit with the class. I sat, I watched, there was a pattern. He only asked questions from the “Science & Nature” category.
Let me give you some background–My father, in a flash of paternal something, brought the game home one night when I was a kid, and I saved it (that is another trick I learned). Keep in mind I was unknown at this school, and had never said a word to anyone at this point.
I never would have done what I did had the other kids not moaned and groaned that the questions were hard. I stayed up that night and memorized every single question and answer in the Science & Nature category. The next day in class, as was the ritual, out comes Trivial Pursuit. I was on it, babe. Dew-point. Kidneys. Radiator. The other students were baffled. The teacher was smug. They asked how I knew so much, and before I could respond he piped in with “because she reads, unlike the rest of you”. Then it was my turn to feel smug. Chumps. I had a suspicion before, but this was the defining moment in my life when I realized how little people really needed. Lip-service is fine as long as there are no follow-up questions, and come on, there are rarely any follow-up questions. Damn right the questions were hard, but the answers were easy as pie.