Oh Joy!
2000-07-21 || the girl with the pleated skirt
soundtrack: Louis Armstrong - The Verve Years Vol 1

I'm wired. Wired on a steady diet of caffeine, nicotine, and frustration. Wired on being let down every single day of my life for however long I can remember. Everyone is full of shit. They're all full of shit. Full of stories I don't want to hear. Full of blah blah blah, and full of thinking they're saying the right things to me. Thinking that they know where I'm coming from at any given moment. Thinking I'm fucking stupid and don't see anything in front of my face. It's all bullshit. It's excuses, reasons that stem from magnetic poetry and too much reliance on the other world. It's all a bunch of heresay and I have no energy to even try to understand where anyone is coming from. Sure I'm not always right, but yet again, reliance on myself is definitely the only key at this moment in time. The only satisfaction I'm getting lately is here in this room. The social interaction I have been having with my mouth is just that, with my mouth. I can't explain anything anymore, and I'm rarely just ready to talk to anyone now. It feels good like this. I have nothing to say really. Nothing in person anyway. I don't really need a best friend, or a companion to "help me out" right now. This is doing just fine. You get to a point in your life where you realize it's different now. I'm there now. It's different. It wasn't me before. I lived in a fucking shell. On drugs half the time. I have a much clearer vision now and it looks really murky and blah...So I haven't been high in a couple weeks now I think. I feel much better. I have a whole bunch of energy. It seems like one bad habit links another bad habit. The next stop has to be the coffee and cigarettes. I feel a bit stronger every day from eating better, and the weights. But I still have that lagging afternoon feeling that is related to the coffee and cigarettes. There's no other excuse for that. I would like to get high here and there if someone gives it to me, but there's no real reason to get back into it again. People spend so much fucking time escaping reality they never get a chance to see things for how they really are. It's kind of funny how some people can't go a night without it. I was like that. I was like that for well over ten years. There comes a point though, where it's all boring, escapist, redundant crap. So I wanted to try an experiment with myself this weekend. I want to not go to sleep on Saturday night and just write all night. I want to see how far I can go. I like to push myself like that. I enjoy sleep deprivation here and there. I am in the midst of it now. Work has been blurry. I'm in a strange way, I have all this energy, things look clear, but my brain is functioning out of the ordinary. I hit back space so many times a day it's not funny. I talk to myself way too much. I use the word "I" too much also. I'll probably just end up going to bed late Saturday, as I'm sure this is all going to catch up to me. Or as Stefanie put it tonight, "you're heading for a nervous breakdown". I'll take one, I haven't had one yet. What a mess it all is, and I'm driving around with someone drinking whiskey in my car thinking words are registering. Hold back what you say around them. Hold back feelings, or what you really mean to say. I've learned over the years to never, ever under any circumstances let anyone know what you're thinking. Especially if they ask you. Never let anyone in. They're just going to sit on your furniture, eat your candy and go home anyway. I can never let anyone know what I'm thinking. There's no reason to. There's nothing exciting going on in my head. Think of it as information you don't need to know. I'm thinking nothing right now. Nothing you need to know about anyway. Do your own thinking.

Tongight (s)he banged on the door. It's strange, most nights I don't see him(her) when I come through the back door. I feel it. It overwhelms me. I don't mean to fumble with the keys, but I don't want any confrontation. I know what it's all about. I know why I'm being watched. Trying to get into my head and control me like a puppet on a string. Trying to push me over the edge. I know why you're out there. I do it. I push. I control just like you. Not to an innocent. There's a reason I do it. I don't stalk. Watch my prey first. Hiding out in the woods. Like I said the other night, just ring the bell, I'll let you in, I have nothing to hide in here, my space is yours. Just don't try and get inside me. I'm not going to let you. Not again. I spent half of my life getting rid of ghost like you. Don't try and get your claws into me. I would kiss you if you let me. I won't punch you. Try and win you over. We're the same skin you and I. We travel. We feed on some of the same things, yet you don't have the decency to show me your positive aspects. A coward hiding out waiting to take me over. Let me play you some sort of melody on the guitar and see if that makes you want to ring the bell instead of banging on the door. You come up right behind me like a leech. A monkey. A monkey ready to get on my back again. You always haunt me when I come home at night. You tell me that music will be heard from different ears if I let you inside me. You tell me the same bullshit I hear constantly. Try me on for size kid. Try me. I won't bite you.I just want to help you out. I just want you to get yourself a new friend. How many times am I going to tell you that I don't need you or them. How many times am I going to open the window and hear you out there laughing at me. It's not really that funny, you may amuse yourself, but you're far from amusing me myself and I. I'd love to be your little friend who visits here and there but doesn't sleep over. I'd love to be your friend that keeps me in the back of your head, knowing that you're there if I NEED you. But you know as well as I do that I don't. Either just come and hang, or get the fuck out.

The way she looks at me with the brown eyes kills me everytime. The hair, the eyes. The voice. Quiet. Little smiles here and there. You talk and I want to listen. For once I want to listen to someone talk. You dress that way so I can get myself into trouble thinking of you. You tell me things that make me want to scream. You look at me like I'm a hero, but apprehensive when I act like myself. I'm not scary. Come on, for once I'm not scared of you, You make some bad fucking decisions, you make choices that make me scratch my head in disbelief. You make every Neil Young song make even more sense than it already does. You make me want to take you on the next vacation. The attitude of the girl I dream about on weekends. The look of the girl I dream about during the week. The voice of a girl I dream about on Sunday nights. The girl I thought I was always looking for. The girl who looks up at me, not down at me. The girl I look up at, not down at. Our own personal heroes. Our own special escape from the run-of-the-mill weekend. The one thing that we look forward to. The worst thing about you though, is that you don't exist. You exist in my imagination. I see you exactly how I want to see you. You're an image. Someone that I want to meet. Someone who exits in those weekend dreams, those weeknight dreams, and those Sunday night dreams. I hate Sunday nights. I always have. Not because it's the end of the weekend. Christ I've been working 6 days a week for well over 10 years now, I have no idea what a weekend looks like. But Sunday night. It has some sort of feel to it. I can't put my finger on it. You're there though. Every Sunday. The day people go to church and worship their respectice gods, I'm here with you. You are inside me. You don't exist. Hell, you probably never will for all I know. I know eactly what you look like. I know exactly what you sound like. I know exactly what you taste like. I don't know if I exist inside your head though.

before & after