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02.28.10

This absence of your love seems to purify my heart. The creosote of hate that clogged my heart's walls has been melted away. Perhaps you think this is a good thing, but now all that is left is emptiness. My loneliness echoes inside of me with every beat. I hear it louder than my thoughts. Louder than my needs. Worse is how it feels; like a demolition site with a sledgehammer tearing through the walls.

My heart can hold nothing now. The fluids of memory seep silkily through holes of my interior. I chase them down the street but they slide out of reach into the gutters. Mixing with every other memory that has only been forgotten. I paddle through them looking for the only one that matters. You.

I can't bear the thought of draining you away like every other person who was once in your life. They pulled the plug on you as if you were a temporary cure for a temporary ailment. They took their daily dose of you, their liquid courage, until they felt immune. Immune to my disease. Immune to loneliness.

But you are my elixir. You're the only thing that keeps me buoyant above this rage. The rage of having nothing, not even the depth to experience something more complex. I know you've drifted away and dispersed into bits and pieces of the person I once knew but I'll swallow everything I can in hopes of finding you. This absence of your love has purified my heart but there is nothing pure in there. Without you I am sinking. I may just drown.

...

02.09.10

Call me crazy but I'm embarassed of the way you present me. You make me seem like this perfect little pretty person.

We both know this is such a lie. I'm a horror. A downright horror. I have a growl instead of a voice and I'd rather knock someone's teeth in than settle things rationally. I do as I please, so stay the fuck out of my way. That's how I am.

I dress to express, but the only expression I seem to know is "Fuck off". People call me a bitch and I laugh and point out that it's inked down my back. I know what I am thanks. And I'm proud.

I dress like a local prostitute but meaner. All the guys look, but they know they can't fucking touch me. I don't fight like a girl, I fight like a dog.

The girls around me call me a slut. I'll adopt it just like Kathleen Hanna does. These words that are supposed to hurt me do nothing but show me how empowered I am. I'm stronger than them. I'm too liberated for this day and age.