I wanted to tell you how I let the half-inch-high white porcelain rabbit, the one I tore off my sister’s fourth grade diorama, fall off my night stand – snapping his perky ear clean off. I wanted to tell you how I don’t give enough of a shit to glue it back on.
I wanted to tell you how my feet get tangled in the phone wires – metaphorically speaking, of course – but I also wanted to tell you that I’m comfortable with that.
I wanted to tell you that I sometimes paint glitter on my nails, then think twice and reach for the acetone.
I wanted to tell you about my “dusted rose” scars, and my “eggshell white” scars, and the lump on my left thumb that lacks a fingerprint.
I wanted to tell you how Orion’s belt skips down the bridge of my nose, and how many of my “beauty marks” have faded so quickly away.
I wanted to tell you how I still blame myself for thoughts I had fourteen years ago.
But I won’t tell you, and you won’t know.
Ahh, the power of a self-directed rhetorical question.
I might just learn something today.
Friday, August 25, 2006. 9:56 am
This, I must remind myself.
And though that might be true, honey – we’re all just working toward a goal that needs to be met. And for that, sacrifices must be made.
In other words: your views are worthless here.
My voice overrides yours and you will accept it.
None of us are sorry. Here’s the mass-produced apology to prove it.
Monday, August 21, 2006. 3:01 am
For everybody that hasn't quite gotten it yet:
I've changed my tag handle to Xeideus and am now writing at Xenouveau. It doesn't exactly feel like home yet, but I do feel more myself.
I'll probably keep SadisticLand alive, as I've written some things on here that I'd like to keep around, but I can't say that anything new will be posted on it.
Everything about every person, place, and thing…all the time. I am perpetually feeling intellectually famished. I can guarantee that my hunger will not be satisfied until I am lying on my back with an oversized rock hanging out about six feet above my head. I didn’t write “make use of the forbidden fruit” for nothing, you know.
You know what else? I believe there is something called a “happy medium” between practicality and recreation. And guess what! I’m going to enjoy it. Try and stop me.