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strappy shoes and a martini.
sometimes i feel like talking to the night. because just as she arrives, everyone turns over their covers, closes their eyes, and drifts into other days where the sun shines, and the people laugh. and all the night has to do is sit, and wait, alone. i want to pretend that the night is that beautiful, wonderful person that i can have a beautiful, wonderful conversation with. because, that person, as beautiful and wonderful as they are, cease to exist in my world. but i don't know the night as well as you think, and i'm not comfortable telling it all my secrets, just yet.
some how it seems that we are all connected, in a game called survival. because its easy for people to feed off people, their shame, their humility, their grief, and their vulnerability. and everytime we get hungry, we can turn the corner or pick up the phone, and feed off anothers soul. maybe thats why i can't keep my eyes open and i feel overwhelmed and exhausted. i've been bitten and chewed, right to the bone.
and all this time i've painted a perfect, perfect sky. i've shown just how the light can hit his face, rounding off the hard edges, softening up the tough exterior. i've painted little squinty eyes, and a smile that i swear is the end of me still, to this day. i failed to paint the clouds, that hide the sun. i failed to paint imperfection. the things i loved most about us. it's called denial. and it's painted me right into my own perfect, perfect hole.
i may be a lost cause. i may have always been a lost cause, from day one. but i thought that if i had love, i didn't need to be anything more.
life is one big helium balloon. as soon as we get too high, we pop, and fall back to the ground, in pieces. little rubber pieces. little fucking rubber pieces.
and sometimes i still scream, and run around in circles. sometimes i bite my covers. need i explain more?
i am a lost cause. completely. absolutely. i am imperfect. i am a million different imperfections. in one whole person.
and i need someone to love every little imperfection. someone who knows what they want.
i had a horrible dream.
and whats worse, i can't wake myself up.
11:32 p.m. - 2005-11-09
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