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"you're wonderful"
she fucking hated those words.
she heard them all
the
fucking
time
in the beginning.
She always knew the end to the story. she fucking wrote it.
blah blah blah. you'll find me extraordinary and never met anyone like me
then
you're lucky if I don't like you.
in that case, you just get slowly faded away. or maybe I'll self sabotage you off my ass. somehow though, you'll go away eventually thinking I'm probably crazy.
fuck
I think that all the time.
I think I might be.
yet, what to do? I try to castigate myself as best I can
to warn you
but you always think I'm just being
something
I don't really know.
and then if I like you? if I think you're rare. If you trigger the mechanism
oh fuck do I feel sorry for you bloke (or more accurately, me).
you'll wonder where I went. You'll wonder what happened to me
why I turned into some weird fawning protester where every compliment you throw you gets filed in the "they don't really mean it. wait until they see me."
and I destroy it.
this one chance (again after decades), I don't want to destroy, but I do it.
it's not like I'm some all powerful god destroying things.
I just do it because I turn into an 11-year-old girl or a 3-year-old or both, and
I either cling to your leg begging you not to leave me (my father when he left for the divorce)
or I do my other trick where I try to mitigate the pain you're going to cause
and I undermine and freak out
all under the hood of course. I won't do you the honor of telling you (hey, I get scared when things get real for me).
I'm too busy dancing with all my parts/neurosis/past competing to try to give me the
best outcome based on their experience. their flawed experience. their never winning knowledge. loser talk. you try not to care. you try not to bother anyone. you try to be alone. you try to accept that's the best thing for everyone... and then, and then, and then, you still breathe. you still want to dance with someone's mind. you still want to participate in life. ouch.
and who really gives a fuck?
well, brother and sisters, I do.
I give great huge fucking fucks.
but it doesn't seem to matter. when I give big fucks, it's often way worse.
I love that dinosaur jr song, "just never try. maintain the same...."
I couldn't keep a man I really really valued. (god, god god god god forgive me)
I made up stories from day fucking uno
that he was going to dump me because I saw him
fucking instantly - whoosh! one of my tribe.
luckily, I wasn't capable of hurting him.
instead, I just killed myself again
and sat in six plus months of "I knew it. I'm a fuck up. I can't even keep someone who is ideally suited for me like a fucking present. I poison shit with my fucking fear of just FUCKING SAYING IT SIMPLE AND SOON"
now you know you fucking
cunt
(I love you.)
I could punish you and say something like 'next time, try harder"
I don't know what to say to you. The pink geraniums are getting a little tawdry - the grass is grown and you don't want to cut it. you watered the peace lily again even though you seem to have forgotten how to care for plants. You really need to go to the dentist. I don't know. I don't fucking know. the only part I have is that I do it. now I know like fucking physics.
I find video games boring
as shit
but that Mario brothers thing where you have to jump over all the hoops and find the princess (me). I liked that. it made sense. I used it. but obviously, I'm a fucking loser who sits and just waits for ...
next time, next time
fuck if there will be a next time, but should there be,
tell him "I like you, and that means I probably will try to undermine this and act weird. I'm sorry in advance, but please call me on it."
I don't fucking know.
I don't fucking know.
what I do know? nobody wants to be around you when you're down.
ouch
who cares though. fuck the assholes.
fuck them.
you're a good kid. you care about even the fucking weeds you pull up. you apologize to the cats when you're crying. you apologize to the bugs when you're mowing the grass.
I don't know. I don't know.
I'm sorry. but I believe in you
I fucking swear.
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