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28.12.05
i could be your housewife.
FIIIIYYUUHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
fiyuh!
what is everybodys problem. what is my problem. really. what IS my beef with fucking, EVERYTHING. why cant i just DEAL with stuff. why cant i just be ATEASE, MEN.
like, "adeez", you know. plastic soldiers and that.
i really love luke. we've been that thing for quite a bit now i think.
i have this pencil and it says "stART" on it. fucking smooth!
BANGBANGBANG MY FIST ON THE TABLE WHEN YOU CAN'T HEAR IT IT DOESNT HURT THE SAME.
i have found out something interesting: hearing stuff makes up a major part of feeling stuff. i brushed my teeth in the shower and i couldnt hear it and it felt totally absolutely different.
thaaaaaaat thing thaaaat thing that thi i i ing thaaat thing that thiiing that thi-i-i-i-ing.
i keep imagining all kids of terrible things like we're in the car: me and my mother and dad and then something happens and they both get killed or my mum gets beheaded by some sheet iron and i imagine her face as it dies but it isnt grotesque it's just exactly what you'd expect, and my dads in a coma and im at a hospital and i say "yes turn it off" and i have nowhere to stay because my friends are away and i call katy and later i call luke and my family all know because the nurses told them and i even hear my uncles voice change as she speaks to him down the phone.
and then i think about how i didnt cry or even feel worried when my mother told me she found signs of cancer or how i didnt cry when i found out about my paralysed uncle, but how i cried when i got told my grandad died. instantly cried.
but my mother hasnt got cancer, and my uncle is himself and at home in a wheelchair.
maybe something inside me knows when stuff is going to be okay.
being dead is final and you get it back from this side. thats something to shed seventy seconds of tears for becuse you really honestly mean them. it signs off that death.
its like having an orgasm on new years eve, to finish the old year with your entire body and be woken up by some kind of slice of light scanning a bed feeling slept-in but new.
maybe my constant imagining of possibilites and the future sets me up all wrong.
just fucking take me dancing and tell me its all okay and call me girl. because i like that.
whispered by killa b at 5:41 PM |
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