|
Because like shit I feel on the inside.
Overheard on the way to work today as I was passing the children in their school-lot garden. They were eight or something like that.
"I'm fat"
"No you're not. You're skinny."
"I know." (giggle)
--
I now notice that I only write to you when I have no one else with whom to talk. Pathetic. I have recognized that part of what is fucked-up about me is that I'm more intimate with these ones and zeros than I am with real, blood humans in my life. I would assume this is because I have huge fear of trusting people, but yet want so badly to be understood (and my god god god
- loved). Pathetic.
Yesterday, I was numb.
Today, I am bleeding.
Shut out of his life - brutally and cruelly. Such things mean that he lied to me (as the strange whore did). Now, I have lost another arm. Ah well, I've finally gotten over the strange whore (thanks very much to her for all her lessons), so what's one more loss? (Answer: sweltering pain). People who I'm intimate with and share my feelings with invariably (except for the few - and that's a whole 'nother can o' worms) shove me to the curb. I'm a broken record. I grow in pain. Perhaps I'll just become like Him - and reveal nothing.
Victoria (one of the few) told me to accept it as it was all I could do.
Thank gods I go to therapy today.
Will you find me?
So sayeth the wound.
|
