crutches

one day i'm going to be more than adequate
and i will stir this life with my teeth

i'll get up and mean it
and mean something at the same time
instead of meaning everything and by default
nothing
all the time

so one day
on my way out of adequacy
and into excellence
i'll get over everything that's holding me back
everything i'm settling without
and mean something
to maybe someone
if they can get past the list
of reasons
i always seem to have

how disjointed i am
how headached i am
how crippled i am by all this
how troubled i am
how deserving i am
of all of my lack of a bliss

the cup of tea

I reread the conversation we had a year ago
And none of it belongs near me anymore
All the anger has flown like birds on a wind and
Like flight on a foot it’s gone and is never to be seen

Tomorrow we’ll go for tea like it never happened
And pretend that never a tear was shed
That every phone call between now and then has
Disappeared

Maybe we’ll talk about it someday,
But today is just about this future we have
And that it’s about us
As friends

Maybe I’ll send you a postcard from the part
Where our friendship is in one piece
And I’m not in love
With you anymore

We’ll eat Chinese food at the scary place
At the top of the hill
And talk about how one day we’ll be real
Musicians and make truth scream from our lungs

No one believes in the hours we’ve
Spent getting to know each other
In every way but carnal
And tomorrow we’ll go for tea like it never happened

You were there to wipe the tear streaks from my face
And to call me when I needed you
I wonder how long it will be until
You are my home and I
Mmmmmm

I’ll never want more than you
To make me tea and pretend the complications never
Happened
Where we can discuss all the big things that have
Happened to each other and apart

Where every thought has
Mmmmmm
Where every secret is still kept and
Mmmmmm
I don’t want anything more than
To have you make me a cup of
English breakfast with sugar
And throw a football until
I’m one of the guys again
And I’m not really alone
Until you leave and
Mmmmmm

There are pieces of me
Dependant on you
And you are it for me in that
Regard
And I can’t wait until I get
To the part where you can distract
Me from the you that takes up my ideal
Mmmmmm

Yes I’ll drive you to work until
You specifically ask me not to
And I’ll get home and be all right
Not waiting for hours again and again
For you not to come see me

I just want more than anything
For you to come here and tell me
Nothing ever happened
And it’s all good and that we’re irreplaceable
And we have the stamps of approval to move on

And I’m shocked it’s taken this much out of me
But I can’t show you
Because you have it all locked down
Mmmmmm
And one day we’ll be drinking the tea you’ve made
Like nothing ever happened.

the person you were

I've fought for the last months for the person you were;
the person no longer around.
The one who now would rather be with anyone who didn't call them out
as often as it feels I have to you.
A solution would be your not lying to me anymore; I wouldn't have to
call you on it then. Or, maybe you could learn how to better lie.
Then I wouldn't catch you every time.
I wish it were easier to let you go.
I wish it were harder to know that I have to.
I deserve more respect than you show me and you've moved me into a distant, obligatory acquaintance who will pretend she thinks everything is fine,
when really,
I see just as well as you do how cowardly you are being.
Ironically, this is the thing I will not call you on.
Because I deserve better than to have to tell my friend when I know he is being
dishonest.
And if I'm the only one with a
backbone
and a little self-respect,
then I feel
sorry
for you.
The man you were would have enjoyed the places you are going to see a lot more than the boy-whore you've made yourself become. These experiences for you, with your
fingers-in-ears, la la las,
will mean less than if you had walked out, eyes open to the world and all it's wonders and wounders.
Without a perspective on how much hurt there is, how can you feel the real pleasure?
I've never been anywhere, but I know that.
What a waste.

So I mourn the loss of you the Man, and turn and walk away.

the character you possess

show me who you are, please.

YOU. the one in the front row, telling me you're my best friend. YOU: the one who blew me off to have sex with the Russian whore, then ignored me for 2 weeks.

YOU. the one who sits slyly by and tells me how attractive I am. YOU: the one who made out with my friend while I was at work and lied about it.

YOU. the one who values me "more than [I] can comprehend". YOU: the one who raped girl-code by making out with my crush.

YOU. the one who has "never told anyone so much in my life". YOU: the one who has earned my trust and love for being real.

YOU. the one who has given me more self-security than I had ever thought possible. YOU: the one who I believe I will be friends with forever.

YOU. the one who is supposed to be a support system, a mentor. YOU: the one who talks about me with EVERYONE ELSE when I'm down the hall.

YOU. the pseudo-artistic one with whom I shared a night of make-out fun. YOU: the one who calls out a good friend for being successful and willing to promote himself tirelessly.

YOU. the one who is immensely talented and truly supportive and endlessly giving. YOU: the one who will be the first person to be my fan.

YOU. my mother. YOU: the one who will love me for always, no matter what I get pierced.

YOU. my sister. YOU: the one who can be counted upon to make silly decisions which will out-silly mine any day of the week.

YOU. my father. YOU: the one who wants to be the supportive daddy after all these years, but can't quite bring himself to admit it.

YOU. me. YOU: the one who has a red-flag policy and sticks to it.

the lies you tell

Being this perpetually single girl isn’t as much fun as people seem to believe it is. I’m constantly approached as a possible instrument of sexual favors which only seems to enhance my singleness when I decline to participate. Honestly, as attractive as you are, your slurred proposition does nothing but make me think I’m worth only what someone will try to convince me of; in most cases, that you’ll “run [my] show”.

Recently, I have begun to believe that people have no recollection of their words or actions when they are drunk, and since I’m only surrounded by functioning alcoholics, deadbeats, and assholes, I am therefore completely on my own.

And as much as I would love to have free and casual sex with someone other than myself, my aloneness hinders my self-esteem to the point of absolute self-disdain.

In the last few weeks, I’ve been told the following:

- You’re beautiful

- You’re sexy

- You’re incredible

- You’re an amazing girl

- I really, really like you

- I’d do anything for you

- I want to take you home with me

- I’ll come in and ask you out when I’m sober

- I’ll give you the time of your life

All hollow; all drunkenly sincere but not soberly repeated. I’d love to believe these things to be true, something more easily done were it not for the fact that I’m only comparatively prettier than my co-workers (all of whom have long-term boyfriends) and the only sober girl in the room.

All of the women I work with, while they are half my size, complain to me about their obesity. I’m by no means thin, but neither am I fat. I should lose 40 pounds, though. I’ll not eat, then I’ll be better. I’ll be able to attract someone for keeps. I’ll be immensely successful.

Soul-dier

I am still a walking contradiction
In-depth and in deep here I do march
Though I want not to suffer this affliction
And yet to many this is but a crutch.
Creating all this equal it be measured
With lowered expectations I survive
In every mourned emotion comes up feathered
To groom of malcontent I be the bride.
Ecstatic be the people sat before me
In raptures be they all among my own
Called to attention we are being Armies
Fall into winter longing for the home.
So match to us the uniforms of glory
These textiles draped atop our weary frames
Turn all those into flags as you be sorry
And leave us here to cook amongst the flames.
I am still a walking provocation
To go back there is all to re-begin
And individual each inhalation
Will pull apart the pretense of this sin.

Introspection

in·tro·spec·tion
–noun
1. observation or examination of one's own mental and emotional state, mental processes, etc.; the act of looking within oneself.

Too bad I can't do it more often with better results.

I bounce around from thought to thought, punishing myself for perceived flaws, completely unwilling/unable to see anything positive.

I really hope there comes a time where I can stop hating myself.

patience is a virtue

So I sit here too drunk to move and all I can focus on is your lack of response.

"some nights are better and some nights are worse.
sometimes I lie about all of this hurt."

He says I'm right and that I've nothing to apologise for.

"I'll be fine."

I never thought I'd think about you like this; I'm broken and waiting for something. I can't just sit here and hold out for more. I need you to say something, anything to tell me that you weren't waiting for something better to come along and take you home from the bar. You mean too much to me to have it, everything, end like this...I've no choice but to sit here, still drunk, waiting for you to make up your mind and forgive me or let me go.

Family: Part 3

My sister
- can be selfish and cruel
- is prettier than I am
- used to be one of my best friends
- rarely lets people make or see her cry
- is well-liked by almost everyone
- has always been successful and popular
- will always have more stamps in her passport
- can afford to do whatever she wants
- is frivolous and financially responsible at once
- can't say "massage" or "sausage" properly
- was awkward but grew out of it too quickly for it to count
- is illogical and irrational
- strives for housewife-hood
- will marry her current boyfriend; I will not be invited
- has been resented since birth
- skipped the last family reunion my grandmother was alive to attend
- will never be as smart as I am
- will breed WASPy children who only care about appearances
- is missed by me, but only sometimes

Family: Part 2

My mother
- is better at guilt than anyone I've met, including the Catholics
- takes everything onto herself
- considers every overachievement a failure
- has spurts of incredible self-confidence followed by devastating self-deprecation
- has more faith in me than I do
- brags about her daughters when they're not around
- is off the wagon
- is breathtakingly beautiful
- sometimes shows her youth in her eyes before it disappears in her skin
- glows in old pictures
- had bigger dreams than she lived
- taught me not to trust anyone, but only by accident
- unknowingly showed me how to never be satisfied with anything until it's perfect, including my body
- doesn't know where or when I became so honest and doesn't know what to do with it
- is on a journey of self-improvement, starting with Feng Shui
- becomes irrationally angry when her love is questioned
- loves my father more than he loves her
- wants to give me the world on a string
- is perpetually stuck in her shell, venturing further out everytime but never far enough that anyone but me will notice when she retreats