just a thought

I read something once, a proverb or a saying or a legend, about how soulmates are connected by a thread. it connects them, works around obstacles and distances and it never comes off. I like the idea of it, but I don't think that it's quite right.

maybe there should be a strand per finger. we have ten, right? and toes. that's twenty strands. I'm not greedy, I don't want twenty soulmates, but I believe in being connected to the people you love.

perspective

I think one of the things I grew up on was the principle of "bad things happen to bad people." karma, crime and punishment, basic stuff. and it's perfectly true- I wasn't allowed to go to the park for a week after I broke mom's vase, my sister always got caught when she put fake bugs in my shoes.

bad things happening to good people, though, that was a concept I was unfamiliar with until I was older. sure, I could go the cliché route and talk about how I never did anything bad (which would be a lie) and bad things happened to me anyway (which is a bigger lie). but honestly, I've led a pretty comfortable existence. sure, my family has some money problems, and I haven't had a boyfriend since 7th grade, but I'm a teenager living in New York City with amazing friends and no curfew. it's all some people could ask for, and I try to remind myself of that.

but you hear things about tsunamis and earthquakes and suddenly, your life is just blissful. hear about hurricanes and missing people and tortured innocents, and complaining about not getting an iPod and a laptop is stupid.

but that's how I grew up, where I got what I wanted and people who were naughty didn't. it may have been my undoing, because now all I can do is sit around all day and wonder what could all of those people possibly have done and come up with the answer nothing at all.

that's amore

I could destroy you. but I won't. not because you could destroy me too (even though you can. it keeps me up at night, that you could kill me without really trying). it's because I don't want to. you're my best friend.

so why am I telling you this? because I like to remind you. it's not about having power over someone that makes me like this fact. it's that handing someone the keys to your undoing is kind of a big deal. we can fight and we can drift apart, but we're entertwined in a way that not everyone can understand.

I tell you my secrets because I trust you with them. you keep them because you know what it means, that I can open up. and vice versa.

the lesser of two evils

I never never lied. or I never tried to. or I never thought you'd find out I did. who ever said honesty is the best policy? I'm trying to keep you sane. I'm trying to help you.

don't look at me like that. you don't know how it feels. you don't have the guilt I'm lying awake with. do you tell your friend how fucked up you are, fuck her up, bring her into your fucked up mind? or do you keep it all to yourself and hope that you don't explode, because that would just hurt her worse?

I don't know, I don't know, I was never lying before when I told you i would stop. I love you and you make me want to stop and I feel like I can when you're there.

but you're not, not always. I could never explain to you how it feels to be suffocatingly alone in the world. do you want me to tell you about the voices in my head, the skeletons in my closet, the razor in my drawer? because I know you want to know and help and sympathize but I'll just drag you down.

the Metamorphosis

it begins with a whisper.just a hissing sound in the halls. chances are, it wasn’t even directed at her. but she hears it and that’s all that matters, because soon it fills up her head- fat.

she doesn’t realize it at first, how the word’s stuck in her head, but it’s what’s ricocheting through her mind all throughout her lunch. fatfatfat. she finishes her fries and feels bloated all of a sudden, and pushes her tray away.

her friends are all getting started on their second milkshakes. “what?” they ask her, confused. “are you okay? eat something, you look pale.”

she stares at them, girls with fast metabolisms and dazzling smiles and an inability to feel insecure. she’s not them. she can never be them, but that’s not true. it’s just what her head tells her, what her now protesting stomach tells her.

she excuses herself, goes to the bathroom, pukes it all up.

this doesn’t happen the first day. or the second. but it happens again and again until she doesn’t remember when it started anyway. she can just hear the word, fatfatfat.

her friends realize something’s wrong. they smell it on her and see it in her eyes when she goes on her crazy binges. they’re scared, they don’t know how to help. they feel uncomfortable around her. they start to pull away.

but this doesn’t help her at all- no, on the contrary, she thinks it’s all her fault for being stupid, ugly, fat.

what an ugly word. what an ugly thing. she can’t talk to people about it, that’s an ugly thing to do. so she doesn’t stop.

and her throat aches all the time, and she’s kept up at night thinking of all the calories that might have managed to stick. her eyes have dark circles.

the more dull and disgusting she feels, the brighter, shinier everyone else looks. she wants to be it, but all of her friends have moved onto girls who don’t have to puke to feel pretty.

she wants to call “please, wait, I’m just trying to be you,” but her throat’s raw and she can’t make out the words.

they look at her like she’s a freak. like she’s fat, fat, fat.

so she stops puking, stops eating altogether, wastes away, and they barely even notice her as they go on being pretty and bright and clean.

(n)either

I can't stand all of this back-and-forth. weak/strong/weak/strong/WEAK/strong? which is better? what's the difference?

weak because I'm empty inside or strong because I resist temptation? weak because I take the easy way out, or strong because I've found the answer to my worries?

if I'm strong, I don't feel it. I'm tired and I'm sad and I'm empty, empty, empty. but the alternative wouldn't fill me up- would it?

I just want to sleep. I don't want to have to be strong but I don't want to feel the weakness of giving in. I just want to know you'll love me either way.

and I'd miss you too much

please don't ever leave me.

wait- I should rephrase, because that's not what I mean. I tell you at least once a day that you deserve so much more than I can give to you, to get out while there's still time.

and you laugh and tell me not to be silly. whether you decide to move on or not, I'll be happy.

what I meant was, don't ever die.

I know, it's a lot to ask. so maybe just don't die before me? I'm trying not to sound selfish, but there are so many things I have yet to share with you.

where the key to my 8th-grade journal is. how to make my perfect chocolate-banana smoothies. that I love you more and more each day.

I like, I like

things I have a love/hate relationship with:

-Big Baby from Toy Story.
shit, that thing is the creepiest, but it's a baby. so many conflicting maternal emotions.

-couples who manage to be romantic in unromantic places.
just minding my own business here on the subway, la-di-da-di-da- oh, the lesbians next to me are making out. well, that's adorable, I'm happy for them- WHERE'S YOUR OTHER HAND? NO STOP I CAN SEE YOU, THIS IS STILL PUBLIC, OH GOD-

-strobe lights.
they are ONLY appropriate in dark places. they're cool then, they make my lame dance moves look so much better. (maybe because you can only see about half of them?) but not when they're in windows on the street. I'm trying to fucking walk. don't give me a seizure.

-cigarettes.
they look all cool and shit right? they give you this "whatever man, I'm a hipster," kind of look. you can blow smoke in people's faces because you're just so superior. but they smell and taste disgusting and give you cancer. (this is actually more of an "I hate you but I'll pretend I don't" relationship.)

-the phrase "there are plenty of fish in the sea."
oh, come on, could you be more cliché? I'm aware that over half of the fucking planet is full of people I could be with. it's nice and comforting to think about until you realize that none of them are. and that you want a specific fish. and your net is ripped. and metaphors shouldn't be taken too far.

-nostalgia.
I want to revel in it all the time, watch old movies and do old things and be childish. I get caught up in it sometimes.

-lists.
I'm constantly making them, and sure, they're organized, unless you're me and you're constantly adding things all over them, so they're never finished, really.

decline

let's destroy something. let's rip it limb from limb or maybe it won't have limbs, it doesn't have to, it can be the fucking lamp on your bedside table for all I care, let's just tear it the fuck up.

why? does there need to be a reason anymore? look at the world. look outside your window. there's violence everywhere, in people's homes and minds and television screens, it's basic instinct. do bad things. get what you want. do bad things if you don't get what you want. it's the perfect solution.

still need a reason? fine, I'm just fucking angry, with all the violence, with the world for letting it happen, with myself for succumbing to it. but right now I just don't want to care about it anymore, so let's numb ourselves to everything with this rage we're feeling and burn the city to the ground.

clear

usually when people talk about addictions, it's formulaic. "you can't stop. you feel like you can't do anything without it, even if it's hurting you." blah blah blah. and then it's, "it was hard to quit but you push yourself and push yourself and it gets easier." blah. blah. blah.

it's not always true. sometimes, it gets harder the longer you go. as time goes on, you lose your resolve and pressures build- and even if you could go entire days without thinking about it before, you can't now.

it sounds like a good thing that the scars are fading- but they're the reminder, the thing that says "REMEMBER HOW FAR YOU WENT BEFORE, SEE HOW CLEAR I AM AFTER MONTHS OF NOTHING, DON'T DO IT AGAIN." your wrist suddenly looks uncomfortably bare without them. "remember how f... ar I am after... nothing... again..."

until it's just, "again."

Uneedmemorethanineedyou [x]

she was always a sweet girl- maybe that's why they wanted her insides.

they took them, it's true, but she opened up and let them in. she didn't know what else to do. "give me your love," they would say, "and I'll be your best friend."

but she didn't realize how greedy they were. they wanted it all. they smiled and said "thank you, love you," as they ripped out her heart. they replaced it with everything they didn't want.

and the sweet girl now had someone else's insecurities, sadness, fears, someone else's hate. she smiled back and said "love you too," but she couldn't mean it anymore. they'd taken it all.

but she began to heal, the good things filling up the blackness where her heart had been. and what she first regained was pity.

they didn't want that. they pushed her away and said "don't feel sad for me, don't, I've got love and happiness," but they didn't say it wasn't their own.

so she left and she regained her optimism. she made new friends, and they didn't ask for love but she handed it to them anyway. they were full to the brim with love and happiness that they had earned, for being as sweet as she had been.

and she wanted it. the empty place in her chest wasn't filling up fast enough, she wanted them to share. and they would have, if she asked. but she had regained her conscience. so she pushed them away, unwilling to steal. the blackness started to swallow her up again.

so be happy, basically

it's like when your friend's status is a song lyric about nobody caring and you feel personally affronted. but- but I care! that bitch, forgetting about me. or- or maybe she didn't forget me. maybe I just don't matter.

oh God, I don't matter.

and then you shake off that feeling and move on, because it's stupid. negativity for the sake of negativity is stupid.

and no one seems to remember that!

which

you're living in a fantasy world where he loves you- in reality you have no idea.

or is the fantasy that you don't know? is your reality that he doesn't?

wake up.