Monday, March 22, 2004

Do you know how some nights are more haunted than others? When you can’t let the past go… or perhaps, when it refuses to cut you free.
I have been remembering all day today, things I try not to. Mostly, I push painful memories into an over-used staleness which blunts their power, but these remembrances refuse to give in. I wouldn’t want them to, perhaps. I recall them to focus on the happy side, I hide them in mists of forgetfulness, I get high to let it hurt less. Sometimes these things work. Tonight though they don’t.
The memories don’t hurt exactly, they are far too sweet. But what does then? My weakness?

Friday, March 19, 2004

I feel so romantic today! It’s not just today I think, have been feeling all peaceful and lovin’ since yesterday.
I just want to pick up the phone and sing a perfectly mushy song (Unchained Melody, why not?) to the man of my dreams. Write the silliest love letter so that I can imagine his loving-foolish grin as he reads it.
Lie in bed and dream up things to tell him and yes, do to him to. Play a foolish prank on him, just because.
And instead, here I am, dreaming of the man who will not tell me who he is. He will look over my shoulder as I type all this out, walk next to me when I’m on the streets by myself but he will refuse to tell me who he’s with when he is not with me. I don’t even know if I should be jealous. A pretty state of affairs!
I tried to watch ‘Dangerous Liaisons’, but I couldn’t. The way I feel, I cannot handle somebody being so very cynical about love. I know that’s how it can be – but it doesn’t have to be like that! That is how I felt all this time. Then I was weary, fed up with the pragmatism that seemed to the universe’s reply to my pleas for some crazy loving (and I don’t mean sex, boys). And now, here I am, deeply in love and darned if I know what the dratted man is doing now. Has vanished into thin air, he has. I do not understand why he does this. Every now and then, it’s like he never was. No replies, no acknowledgements even, of my presence in his life. Is that any way to treat the woman he plans to marry?

This is one heck of a silly letter to match a silly mood. Might just be the heat, now that I think of it. It’s been far too hot to want to do anything remotely active or exciting.

Sunday, March 14, 2004

Confessions of a Junkie

‘The Kindly Ones’ have just changed the course of my day. Probably of the days to come as well – but who can tell, perhaps by this time tomorrow I will be asleep once more and forget what it was like to have touched awakening. Already it seems like this was the dream and not the other way around.

Were there no books I would die. There are no turks, no withdrawal. I would beg around for shampoo-bottle labels, read the sides of crates, write endlessly, mindlessly, just so there would be something to read. This is addiction at its highest. And unlike other kinds, at the darkest phases I withdraw from what gives me the most comfort.

I follow other addicts around, ignoring their dark sides and give in shamelessly to their demands just so they may allow me to touch their equally jealously guarded libraries. I sit all day in a daze after a particularly strong hit and wonder if I should just curl up and will myself to die so I never to lose that feeling.

Tuesday, March 09, 2004

Met an old friend today. We talked for the longest time. She pointed out some very salient facts to me… the truth is, I have not lost the girl I was looking to be. Lost sight of her, I mean. I am not saying I am her, because there are things to do before I can be that. But she is in my head, a clear idea of where my life will go should I get to direct it. And however many cul de sacs blind me and digressions distract me, at the end of the day the truth is that I pick myself up, brush the clinging dust away and walk on.
I suppose that is why I cannot give myself. I am too much my own person. I talk about myself all the time, but I don’t think that is because I am selfish exactly. It’s more as though I’m continuously trying to unravel the threads in the mixed-upness that’s me and talking about it as I go is communication aimed as much towards myself as to any person I might be addressing my thoughts out aloud to.
Isn’t it strange? In earlier times I would have taken a succession of lovers and tried to content myself with sex. Married as a child and have children of my own to distract me from my strange thoughts. Being a girl in these enlightened times and of my liberal background means I do neither, of course. I read and attempt to educate myself and take lovers and keep seeking because I have always been assured that there is an answer. To be sure, the search is no little fun.