So messed up

Today was difficult, but still way easier than yesterday.


Today someone was walking drunk through a golf course and called me. So I picked him up and we drove around. We went back to my apartment and played poker. We talked a little bit about some other people. We wagered pieces of clothing.
A girl has intuition for a reason. There is something in the back of your brain, there is something carnal and old and sensitive. It picks up disturbances like a cat will before an earthquake. Hone in on that, people, it will save you from dishonesty to yourself.

Speaking of which someone talked to me for most of the day today. They claim they don't want anything more than friendship but that weird old pang went off in my brain like a tuning fork, and just rang out gullet to guts to beware, because even though I am working on being different I still attract crazies, cause I don't know much else.

No matter what I do I still have problems speaking up. It's weird I can say anything in writing. I can make you feel it. I can create the feelings out of words, real words, solid words that my fleeting mouth can't express. If ever something happens I have a bulldozer to my brain until I sit down and write it. I can write my fears and you will fear them. I will write my pain and you will ache. I can take my fingers on a keyboard, I can take my fingers to a pencil, years, months later my fingers will creep up and expose your teeth and pull back dimples and crinkle crows feet at my joy or pleasure or anger.


I got a letter today from someone that hurt me a long time ago. It wasn't that long ago, but it feels long enough. They had to seek medical attention last week from self depreciating behavior, to put it nicely. They were told as part of the program they were put into that they had to apologize to people they had hurt. I could have done without the explanation as to why they were doing it, I could have been ok with just the apology. It feels faker now. Like they are trying to spread blame, even now it's still "If you didn't do this, I wouldn't have had to put myself through this."

I am on this fantastic journey though, this being responsible for my own feelings means making/letting other people be responsible for theirs. It's weird being a realist and going to a counselor, every day I talk to her I feel like I sound like those little shit pussies that I hate.

Wah, your daddy didn't give you enough hugs, your mommy popped a couple valium to get by. Except it's more like my dad is an abusive addict asshat and my mom is finally recovering from being a religious fanatic. I guess they are the same that way, everyone needs something to justify their behavior...to make weaknesses ok to project on to other people.

But it's weird having someone say that those feelings of pain and anger are justified. It's weird having someone say to except them and feel them and not push them down and reject them but to love them and see they are beautiful and push through them.
Push yourself through the pain and burning and anger, it purifies you of those things that make you imperfect. You'll never not be a hodge podge of mixed up, but some alloys aspire to be gold.

Ok she doesn't say all that, but that's what I feel like.


Now I am done writing, I am lonely. I am listening to Iggy and the Stooges on repeat. I wanna be your dog. And I feel like I wrote it.