uncommoncold

First, the somewhat trite stuff.

My Italian final exam is on Friday and I'm not ready for it. I've been studying a little, but I don't think it's enough.

I'm going to Vancouver this weekend. Science World, rock!

I enjoyed Batman. I want to do Cillian Murphy right in the face. He has such ridiculously beautiful eyes.

I bought strawberries today. And red & yellow bell peppers. I love vegetables, and I blame working on a farm for a few summers for that one.

Secondly, the less trite stuff.

The internet still feels anonymous to me, even though it isn't. Also, I know that this will all disappear when my account expires. That's why I can write shit like the following.

I was cleaning my room today, trying to sort through stuff to give or throw away- it's my obsession, you see; purging can be as bad as collecting, at times- and I realized that the greatest mindfuck comes from the memory of scent.

Opened a nearly-empty container of mango body lotion, and it was instant. Autumn. Living by myself. Small basement suite. Chris. Oh god, Chris. Suck back my breath. Drinking too much. Not caring enough. Caring too much. Not smiling enough.

Sit down for a moment on my bed, the same bedspread that covered us for nearly a year when we lived together. I've washed it countless times just to get you out of it. It's the same as scrubbing down your lover's skin after she cheats on you- that desperate purging of the poison. You don't realize until later that you're only skimming the surface. Treating the symptoms instead of the disease itself.

I was so fucking sick in the fall. I was so sick and broken that I didn't even realize how sick and broken I was. The profile picture that I have up right now almost makes me laugh, for two reasons. One, I don't actually look that tough, ever. Two, all I can see when I look at it is how bloody scared of everything I was then. That's goddamn fear in my eyes.

I just wanted someone to look at me and say, "Hey, you're not well. You're beautiful, though. He hit you? Fuck him. You're worth more than that. I'll love you and take you to the moon. Let's go. My spaceship's waiting outside."

Something happened, somewhere along the line. I realized for real, instead of just intellectualizing it, that nobody can make me better except myself. I have to want to get better to really get better.

I really am beginning to become okay these days. It's this calm balance I'm achieving. I spend a lot of time feeling as though I'm the center of a storm, and it's beautiful in here.

Care to join me?