AMERICANS DRINK STRAIGHT FROM THE BOTTLE

Welp, here's another boring entry. Jessica #1 has moved in with us...it appears she and Aaron have called it quits, though I think it's more of a one-sided story than it seems. More later.

It's a Self-Taught Disposition

Ambient thoughts
Criss cross
They all collied on the back-wash tide of my brain
Yeah, I'm still sane
But I'm waiting for the day
When I'll finally be able
To rid myself of these stains.

Can you...would you...
Feel this beating peice of metal
It circulates chrom through my vestels
I inhale confessions
I don't even think twice
About it--
How life will fuck you thousands of times...

That's a lie.

Sometimes I dream wide awake
And I feel my muscles ache,
To be rid of these conscieous chains
These proverbial irritations, recreations
And elivate.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, after I posted the last entry, that night I told Kim what had gone down, and what I'd become known to. She was slightly embarrassed, as expected, but she complied that it was nothing against me, and that it wouldn't happen again. Uh huh.

You know what I'm waiting for? When I can touch down unto the beautiful sandstone continent and hear the buzz of digeridoos. When I can pop a cap off of a cider bottle and not think twice about walking in daylight. Smiling at the people I walk past and knowing that they won't avoid eye contact at all cost, and acknowledge the fact that yes, I am a person, just as they. I'm waiting until I can finally look over the dock, into the beautiful glimmering teal of Sydney Harbour and stare at the crabs finger along the coral, so slowly, and whisper to them "I know why you're dancing." Until I can stand at the shoreline, my arms outstretched, gazing into the glorious beyond of something so much larger than myself, running thousands and thousands of miles just to touch my feet. Until I feel the sand tickling between my toes as the water sucks it from beneath my feet. Until I finally go home.

Kim has lied to me. I don't really know what to say to this.

Why has she lied to me? Well, most obviously it is because she is ashamed of something she has done, which is really the root of all lies:shame. That's why I personally feel lying is dishonorable to one's character and uncalled for--if you're going to do something you'll regret later, then it's best just not to do it. However, to go beyond these lengths and lie about something without even being interogated about it is...leaningly repulsive to me. If I have something I do not wish for my friends to know about, I simply do not talk about it. If they ask me about something too personal, or something I'd rather not have them savy of, I simply and politely tell them that I have no intensions of discussing the matter any further.

Now, what is it that Kim has lied about to me? She told me that, appomixately one week ago when she was taking a guy friend home, all they did were watch Pete & Pete and smoke whatever it was they decided to, which I personally knew was a bad idea, but couldn't/can't do much about. She told me, in detail, that she specifically sat on the floor, away from him, so that he wouldn't try hitting on her again, since he was on his bed and always attempted to cuddle her. Maybe she wasn't lying about the smoking part, but the rest of it was a pure fabrication.

Why would she lie to me about this? I mean, other than shame, I am suppose to be her friend, not someone she lies to just to make herself look better. Sure, this guy isn't all that attractive, and I knew that's how she felt, but that doesn't give her any more reason to lie to me and we both sit with it accordingly. This is not the nature of friends, in my eyes, and that is not how you go about creating a close, trusting friendship. I don't care what it is she did, whatever it was, and I could care less to know the details of that, but now I am disappointed in her, for the fact that she lied to me, as if on a whim. It makes me feel as though she feels that I am not intellectually apt to catch on to her falsaties, and furthermore that she is undermining my character, as if I do not deserve the truth, whatever it may be. I would have even been fine if she simply said she didn't want to talk about it, but the fact that she lied...I am at a loss of what to do, but eventually I must confront her. She cannot go on thinking that if she got away with this lie, she can certainly get away with others. No, I will not exploit her. No, I will not make rude jests. I will be understanding but firm in what I believe.

She told me, some years ago, that when her friends tell her secrets, so her they were not her secrets, so she saw no dilemna in letting others know what they were. A year following this I reminded her of the statement, and her reply is not as vivid in my memory as I would wish it so, but it was something in defence of those past beliefs, but also some righteous statement in that only the closest of friends she will hold secrets for. I am glad that I have remembered this over the years, if only because I shall know to keep my tongue guarded even now.

DREAM LOG Entry 3/4?

TamborineMachine (6:15:00 PM): Let me tell you my neat dream
TamborineMachine (6:15:10 PM): Cause I don't want to forget it. I'm going to ppost it on my blog
TamborineMachine (6:15:57 PM): Well, you see, somehow I was an American flight attendent, and managed to slip by into Australia without going through the extrinuating process of showing a passport and permit and things of that nature
TamborineMachine (6:16:24 PM): And I got a job at this movie industry, a big coorerate business where critics came and watched and rated movies
TamborineMachine (6:16:50 PM): And we got a new boss...she was wearing all black robes, and she was very tall, with only her big dark eyes showing
TamborineMachine (6:17:07 PM): I knew there was something wrong about her, so I kept my distanceVerotica8i8 (6:17:15 PM): hahaha
Verotica8i8 (6:17:17 PM): i love it so far
TamborineMachine (6:17:52 PM): I warned the few friends I had there that she seemed dangerous to me, and that we can't directly leave, because then we definantly would be in good shape
TamborineMachine (6:18:18 PM): So they divised a plan to build a raft, undercover of course, and go across the river, behind the building, to safety
TamborineMachine (6:18:25 PM): I didn't go, because I decided to keep guard
Verotica8i8 (6:18:25 PM): lmao
TamborineMachine (6:19:00 PM): Slowly but surely, everyone who'd gone into the theatres to watch the movies were coming out in the same black robes as the woman, and they were all coming out in her likeness
TamborineMachine (6:19:08 PM): Not as tall, of course, but with the glazed eyes
TamborineMachine (6:19:42 PM): Those who noticed and tried to get away were snatched by the multitude of those in black robes, and transformed
TamborineMachine (6:20:02 PM): SO I just kept in the back lot, walking around with dead eyes and pretending to not notice anything
TamborineMachine (6:20:24 PM): My two friends, a guy and a girl, had set sail and were about midway through the river
TamborineMachine (6:21:00 PM): Suddenly, the water started rumbling, and up from the depths came a creature looking exactly like the woman, exept WAY bigger
TamborineMachine (6:21:20 PM): She knocked their raft over and the woman was looking around panicy
TamborineMachine (6:21:50 PM): She tried swimming for the other shore, but was pulled under, and the guy almost got back to the shore I was on, but at the last second a tidal wave swallowed him up
TamborineMachine (6:22:20 PM): I went inside, bowed to the woman, and suddenly I had black robes on, BUT I was not truly as the others were, I was indisguise
TamborineMachine (6:22:48 PM): The door that I had used was the last exit remaining (the one to the back), because somehow all of the others had disappeared, and I had that one still opened
TamborineMachine (6:23:05 PM): I pretended to guard the back, but as the woman turned away I ran for it, out the door
TamborineMachine (6:23:18 PM): She noticed of course, and screamed and came after me
TamborineMachine (6:23:53 PM): I dove from a platform into the river, and began swimming and hard as I could, and now she was running on the water, and a rumble came from the deep....
TamborineMachine (6:24:01 PM): That's the end.
Verotica8i8 (6:24:32 PM): so is that your new movie?
TamborineMachine (6:24:59 PM): lol, don't think so. I'd just like to remember it. So I can remember my dreams better. So that maybe they can INFLUENCE my movies... :P
TamborineMachine (6:25:09 PM): Cause I've had some pretty cool ones, as I'm sure lots have had
TamborineMachine (6:25:20 PM): I had another one, too, but I can't remember it as well now
TamborineMachine (6:25:46 PM): I just know that in it Logan and I were on vacation at a beach, and we were married and lived in Australia (I know, AHHHH)
TamborineMachine (6:25:52 PM): lol
TamborineMachine (6:26:03 PM): The thought of that is funny
TamborineMachine (6:26:07 PM): I think we even had a kid
TamborineMachine (6:26:10 PM): Odd stuff...

I MIGHT ADD...

Hi Aaron. :)

*now excluding him from the direct audience*

Aaron's a great guy. I hope he's happy, and if he is I'm glad for it. I can tell, from the last time I saw him (well, before the last time I saw him wave to me from a car) and the times I've seen him lately he seems so much more...vibrant with life. I hope he is. Perhaps he's in love. Perhaps it's the freedom and responsibuility he has up here, on his own. Perhaps...I don't know. I wonder...does he feel good about himself? I hope he does. I wonder what he thinks I think of him...

I think he's just grand. I think he's truly one of a kind.

I wonder what the biggest adventure he's ever been on is. I wonder what it's like to be him. I wonder what his ambitions are, and what he thinks of things. I wonder what he thinks of me, and if he's afraid to be around me. I hope he isn't. I hope he wants to be my friend.

AS IF THAT HADN'T BEEN SAID BEFORE

Earlier, I was browsing a bit, and decided to read the Beginning of the End of the Beginning of the End series....all this time, I felt that my writing had degraded from earlier periods, and I suppose I still believe that in some places...but I feel that, now having read it again, I wasn't so clear on the message I was trying to send. While at the time it was very close to my heart, now it seems I pointed out all of the trivial things, and emphasized the wrong points as to WHY it was the Beginning of the End. Perhaps I should explain further.

Frankly, I was becoming sick of the habitual weekly/nightly rituals that had developed around the lives of my friends and that which were seeping into myself. Too much of a good thing, maybe, but also, for myself, too much to have to deal with--constantly being around marijuana, among other drugs, did not seem to me the proper course of being drug free, rather, it made me either appear like I felt superior to my friends, which I certainly did not, or like a complete hypocrite. At barely 17 years old, it was especially scary to me that I had to watch my friends snort coke to have a decent night--it made me want to sob and run and scream all at once. I lost quite a bit of self-esteem for myself, then, just being there and watching this, so I really can't imagine how they feel/felt, whether it be powerful, cheap, cool, or whatever else.

I'm not going to pretend like the drugs did not contribute largely to my decisions to change my course of association and action. I've been looked down upon for this, and mostly excluded from primary social groups I would have earlier been accepted with open arms to. I'm also not going to pretend that that didn't effect my perception, or that it didn't hurt my feelings or burn me from the inside. All of this cannot and will not be denied, though it may be hard to admit.

Other than that, I was also getting tired of sitting around some 3 days a week at a particular friend's house nodding off as the guys played video games. This is fun, in the beginning, but after a few months it does tend to lean toward the lame side of things, especially when viewed initially as a party, which ruins your whole ideal of what a celebration of sorts really is, and makes you numb to when there actually IS something to celebrate for. I learned at this time that while it is good to value particularly unparelleled friendships, you do not have to show it by being around as much as possible. In fact, if you save your time for special occasions, friendships become more valuable, moments more memorable, and it becomes something to look forward to.

When I warned the only other girl that use to hang that she might not see me so often, she was slightly perplexed. I went on to ask her to please not tell the guys, because I knew it would be taken the wrong way, and told her of my plans to put a bit of distance between myself and the group for a while, and that I wasn't planning on coming back over for a long while. Sadly, it didn't quite work out that way, considering she was an item with Alex at the time, who's house we stayed at, and he immidiately threw me into the Snicker-at-and-hate pile.

What really, truthfully finalized my decision before the last paragraph, though, was Alex himself. I didn't mind that he was generally an asshole; I thought it was kind of funny sometimes, but on one particular night, after a weekend in which I'd confronted a pair of kids for using my twin brother for his medication, Alex turned his antics not at me, but towards my brother. I wouldn't have minded so much had he cracked a joke on me, as unnecessary as it may have been, and he already did have a few coined phrases he liked to use for me (i.e. "Are you Logan's brother?"). But the fact that he was making fun of my twin brother, to ME of all people, was revolting, especially because he appeared to get along well with my brother after school, and would talk to him as a friend, and not as a target. This so inraged me that I've not talked to him sinse. A lie was made up to unsure that it was not my decision to never come back to his house, but that he had denied me access from coming over any longer. Soon enough people I didn't even know started hating me. Oh well.

High school drama should be made into a sport.

Oh, These Hidden Stirs

Creep Creep Creepin' along.
Creep Creep Creepin' along.

I see it...
Don't believe...
We're sitting here
Suddenly.

Feel the heat.

Arise,
oh, fireflies!
Arise...

Sunrise
Burns through the skies!
Arise...

Question marks
In your eyes...

Suffice to say,
I've been blown away
You know what, that's OK
It's OK.
The prophacies...
Are showing lately!
But they aren't what they seem
Is it a dream?

Is it a dream?!?
Oh, a dream...
Can I be sitting here?
Wait, who's going to stear?
As we come clean and become clear.

The prophacies,
they mean shit to me!
But who's right?
Is everyone alright?

Because...you know...
And that's OK, I'm glad you do.
It's just that...
It's just that...

It's just that It's just that It's just that.

SPPE LIEN NAGOL part DEUX

I hated Logan with a passion for the longest time. I trully came to know the meaning of hate, because I'd never hated anything more than him, so completely, and in such satisfaction and solace. I'm sure he hated me as well, in fact, I know he did, but I cannot imagine that his hatred was greater, or more rightfully desearved, than mine of him. It didn't help that he had also began dating the girl who he swore never to date, throwing away yet another friendship of mine, and smirking all the while. Indeed, she and I have not been friends since.

Over time, however, I came into the mindset that what better to feel than a complete nothing as appose to any sort of emotion, so that I am even less associated with him than I normally would be. This didn't last very long, however. I decided it would be fun to toy with him, so I got on my brother's screen name one night and gave him a shy and believeable hello. His responce was...mostly what I expected. That he missed Steve and I, that he was sorry for what he'd done, that he'd hated me but I had more right to hate him, and that he was the biggest asshole ever. Actually, I've the conversation saved on a disk, just in case I'm ever in the need of blackmail. (TOTALLY kidding here) He also said that he'd give anything to go back and make things right, and to make me not hurt anymore. So, after a few more conversation between "Stevo" and Logan, I decided to give him a few very hard levels of knowing me to beat, which have been listed on here before. He beat them, we met up and I treated him to lunch.

I had it in my mind to possibly use him and abuse him, but I was more interested in not having to deal with him anymore--I hoped that that would settle his conscience and he would finally leave me alone forever. Nope. We kept meeting up at different people's parties, having deep dsicussions of what was, what could have been, and our own independent lives in general. I felt that we had a strange sort of connection, one that's hard to find, because I felt and still feel that we know each other so completely, yet are so lost in that area at the same time.

Finally, the summer came, I graduated, and left for two months. I thought of him while I was in Bristol...I don't know why, but I did. I knew I never wanted to be with him, but something was pulling me...in August, I came back to Missouri. Some night I had a dream that Logan was parading me around on his shoulders amongst a crowd, and Lauren was in a corner with a scorned face. A week later I talked to him--turns out he'd broken up with her a week ago. Oh, I said. I didn't mention the dream. I'd asked a friend how they were doing, and she said fine at the time, but apparently that wasn't so.

I thought, for a while, that I'd give him my virginity. I mean, we'd sure grown a lot in the little time we'd known each other, and experienced so many different and new feelings and things together, that I thought I might as well. I was nearly posotive that he'd not given his own away, because he was so timid in that area when we were together, and in all the two years he was with the girl before me, they only kissed. He was all too ready for that, of course, but I learned by his slip of words and misunderstood messages that he had given his...to Lauren. How...blank, I felt. How meanningless. Call me an inconsiderate repatious snob, but in my opinion that relationship never meant anything, and he admitted that it ended up not meanning anything; that it became so pointless after that that a breakup was inevitable. I thought on it for a while more...but by that time I was already out of "the mood" and once again aloof on the subject of sex. Still, I feel rather robbed, as silly as it may seem.

Sitting here, thinking about it now, I will not give this last innocense I hold onto to Logan. I feel, I know, that he isn't worthy of it...there was only one person that was, I think, but I wasn't ready for it when I had my chance, and that's fine with me. I would have been a real wreck if I decided to go ahead and go for it. And I know that He made the right decision for himself, and hope it meant something to him, because I think it did.

Now, I feel, I am completely out of the Logan loop. No more do I think of what could have been, or how much I hate him, or how much I *want* him, or how he should feel about me. Once I wished him to never find happiness again...and now I hope he does. I hope, though, that he doesn't think that I am what he can fall back on whenever he doesn't succeed. I hope that he doesn't think I am his lost puppy, or that I want him in any way other than a friend. Lately I've been thinking about it, and he reminds me, more than ever, of my brother, the way he thinks and acts, and how "hopelessly romantic" he is and loves to be called. The way his mind works is just...funny, to me. Now, finally, after all of the pain, the loss, the complete turmoil and the reguvination of myself...I can finally think of him and smile.


PS- A lovely little note, one of many, circa April 17, 2004

Dear Logan,

Words cannot describe the emotional distress and turmoil I’ve been through these last few weeks. I’ve never been treated so ugly by someone so important in my life, ever. No, I’m not a saint, but you are, by far, not one either. I will refrain from name-calling, though God knows I’ve a book-full of things to call you, because I find it disrespectful, irrelevant, and immature. Looking back at how affectionate and loving you use to be, it’s hard to believe how brutish it seems you’ve become. I feel as though I don’t even know who you are anymore.

The strange thing is, this change didn’t occur slowly. The first time I ever saw it it was pertifying, but I thought surely it was a one time thing, considering it was when I broke up with you, for you. But it has lingered there ever since, always waiting for me to get too close to the chained dog, so it can push me into the dog’s dirt circle. I don’t know where the hell this rage came from, but surely it’s been there for years, due to the enormity of it’s size.

As you become more and more bold, you say more and more hurtful things to me. I don’t know if you’re just testing the water, or you take pleasure in my sensitivity, but either way it hurts. You try to threaten me by denying me services, or the "privilege" of talking to you. If talking to you meant hearing the things you say to me, I’d gladly sacrifice my speech. Whatever you dish out, if I even make a joke back in that same context, you take offense. It seems as though I barely say anything and you take for granted that I’m pissed.

I feel weakened. It must make you feel powerful to call me all of those things without me responding in the same manner. I can’t think of myself being so gutless and cowardly, yet I am. I’ve let you do all those things, so what more could I be than that? You’ve slowly been breaking down my character, and I bet you’re glad of it right now. I think, when it all comes down to it, I’d rather be slapped by your hand than your words. Actually, I’d look forward to it. You arise a feeling inside of me that wants to be destructive, but I‘ve done my best in keeping myself in check. I’ve cried, and for the first time in years I’ve said out loud that I hate something. Do you know what that something is?

You only tell me things I "want" to hear, when in reality, when I ask a question, it’s genuinely because I want to know the answer for what it is. You’ve even been "courageous" enough to "joke" about the way you feel with my very good friends. Would you be courageous enough to say it 2 inches away from my face? Surely you’ve never displayed this side of you to anyone else, or at least not outside of your household. If you do, hasn’t anyone warned you or pointed out your warped attitude? You’re the worst on the internet, when you’re most confident, because you don’t have to bear the look in my eyes or the sound of my voice. The way you behave can be described as nothing less than atrocious or devilish.

How is it possible that you’ve been so important to me, yet you’ve said and done the worst things directed towards me that I’ve ever witnessed? You’ve treated me like I’m a complete moron, when the fact is I knew exactly what was going on, but I chose to let the obvious go unsaid. You’ve made me insecure about myself by calling me a numerous amount of names and descriptions which I refuse to repeat. You’ve hurt me worse than anyone has ever hurt me, and you wouldn’t believe how deep that hurt goes. You couldn’t even fathom it if I told you.

I know this letter probably won’t get through to you, because it is written in first and second person, which is the least convincing writing format in a persuasive essay. However, if you displace yourself from this situation, or read these again in a few days or weeks, maybe you’ll better comprehend it. I have been left hopeless in the gutter, and I have only one hope left: that you never treat anyone else the way you’ve treated me. I feel that no one deserves to be exploited in such a way, and with luck you’ll never have to be in that position. I’m trying to be friends with you, but you still have hopes that are now barely fragments in a dream to me. With every situation, there’s something to be learned. I don’t know about you, but I know, somehow, I’ve learned a lot.

Empty promises. Hours of waiting. Toleration or degradation. And what was it all worth? Twenty bucks says you’ve smoked pot in the past 2 weeks.

Your parents must be proud. I know I am.

My Love

Rene Montague

SPPE LIEN NAGOL part UN

A final post on the strangest of fixations I have yet known. A final one.

It's been a long road.


From the first time I saw him, all of those 3 years or so ago, I was enchanted. He had on the usual--black shirt and bluejeans, standing awkwardly on stage and reciting a few lines. I'm sure I'm not the only one, the first or last, to've felt this way about him; the shy, seemingly humble and kooky character known as Logan. True, he's still rather perplexing to me, but I think not in the way that he would wish it so.

We never talked, though--exchanged a polite hello here and there when we happened to be in the same premises, but never any conversation or catching of the eye, and so we went our own ways. A year or so after I initially "met" him (met as in knew of his existance) we became friends. We talked online, and he gave me rides to and from the fall play of my Junior year of high school. Soon enough we were putting our creative minds together, collaborating on what would be known as the failed project of Saving Constance. I began thinking of him as nothing more than a good friend and even brotherly--sure he was good looking, but I'd rather not interrupt the relationship he himself had going for him, much less our friendship. I also had romantic ambitions in another direction that I had hoped would work out, and inevitably did not.

Some time during the break of that winter (2003), Logan decided to call it quits on his dead-end, two year relationship with another girl of my year. My friends were anxious to know what I was going to do about it--they later told me that they'd thought I'd already had feelings for him just by how good of friends we were--constantly hanging out together, riding to all sorts of places and so forth. I said I didn't have any intentions to do anything about it; I myself was just getting out of what I considered a very heavily involved relationship, and wasn't sure of my feelings. For one, I knew it would look bad to get with him immidiately after his breakup with such a lovely, honorable girl. For another, I didn't want to use him in the heat of passion, pretending he was someone else and crushing him is he was interested in more. Also, I was made aware by a friend that another friend of mine, Lauren, had developed feelings for him on-stage, but anytime I insinuated things of it to her she'd deny it completely. I should mention that Lauren and I had started hanging out, and were developing a blooming friendship. I decided to give her some time with that, and space it out for at least a month, so that I could be true with what I wanted, make sure he knew what he wanted (instead of the both of us using each other as rebounds), and give the third party a chance as well.

As it turns out, things didn't happen quite that way. We ended up getting together on New Years, a little over a week after his initial break-up and just a few weeks after I cut off a low-key something-or-other with Aaron. Of course, being drunk off of our asses that night, we thought we were being sneaky, but by the time school was back in session everyone knew what was up. Betrayal, they whispered. Everyone had a different story, and everyone had a say about it. It was because of this that I chose not to accompany him to the Sweetheart dance which he so deperately wanted to attend, but I met him there anyways, and we made a night of it.

Besides all of the outer conflicts, things started out wonderfully. He seemed so genuine--telling me he'd always dreamed of us together, and how he remembered seeing me for the first time, and thinking how I was different from everyone else--special--and that he wanted us to last forever. The forever was very unsettling for me: he was making plans for us in our college years when I barely knew what was going to happen a week from now. Because I told him to stop planning so far ahead and focus on the now, he began to think I was less dedicated to "us" than he. In actuallity, he claimed to be into our relationship completely, but he would arrive hours late for our dates, or even completely forget about them, countless times, and act as though it were no big deal. Despite my pleas to him that this was not acceptable behavior, and that it was imparative that he go through with his words and be consistant in his efforts towards our relationship. I suppose he began making assumptions about me, because now that I was fully invested into letting us be official, and not caring what everyone else thought which had plagued me so earlier, he had another girl escort him publically on his Winter King nomination: Lauren.

Alright, I thought to myself, he already swore to me that he would never go out with her if we weren't to work out, so I don't have to worry about losing her friendship. Eventually, though, his carelessness of time value drew me so far up the wall that on the last night of our lovely relationship, after waiting on him for 6 hours and having only one hour left for the night, I called "us" off. Coincidentally, that was THE night, so long ago now. I was afraid he was going to cry; the poor fellow was distraught and had never seen it coming. I told him that he had done too little to prove he was sacrificing his all, as I had surely done with my reputation and friends, so be dedicated to our being together. I had waited on him so long, been patient for such a long time that I had no patients or time to wait left. I told him that he'd assumed too much and too little of me--he hadn't even asked me if I wanted to escort him, and I told him I would have been honored to do so. He said he thought I'd reject him again, so he didn't even try. If he didn't even try to make that effort, what effort was he going to try to make in our relationship? So, that was our first break up.

And sadly, nott our last.

Two days later I took him back, feeling weak and sorry for the poor fellow, who'd taken to writing my a lengthy love letter and a few burnt CDs. Wow. Big effort, but it wasn't nearly enough as it should have been. Not even in the same ballpark. As time progressed, our relationship became more and more of a rollarcoaster, and becomes a hazy blur now, in my memory, with the ferociousness of it all. He'd taken to "joking" with my friends about how terrible a person I was whenever they made silly remarks, which friends do, and honestly thought I'd never learn of it. He'd also taken to calling me names, such terrible, brutish names...and I was so weak I just let him do it, without raising a hand or furrowing a brow. Stupid whore. Fucking retarded bitch. Mind, we were in a relationship during all of this, on again and off again. One minute he'd tell me I was everything to him, and he didn't want anything else, and the next minute he never wanted to see me face again. We'd get into arguements about silly things. That isn't how the band name is pronounced. Let's take Short St instead of Perrine. Are you giving me a ride to school tomorrow? I began to think that maybe I deserved to be called those names. I began to feel that all of my friends were just pretending to be my allies, and that I was, well, honestly worthless. I wondered if anyone would notice if they never saw me again.

My friends began to wonder where I'd gone. I was there physically, but mentally I was far from it. No more was I cracking wise remarks, or bursting with laughter, or displaying a wild, bright smile. It felt as though my spirit had completely deserted me, or that it had never belonged to me anyways. Maybe this was all I truly was. In these days I felt crazy; truly mad. One minute I was sitting on the computer, and the next I was running down the street as fast as I could, tears blurring my vision, and I didn't care. Anything to get away from this hatred. Anything to get away from this Hell that I was in.

Finally, one day, on the brink of a countless internet battle (which was always one sided), I fought back. Typing the same gibbirish that had been thrown at me for so long, I felt like a complete imbusil, yet at the same time.....free. Renewed. Uplifted. Free.

That was May of 2004. He tried to get in touch with me a few times later that year, saying how incredibly sorry he was, an how he wanted our friendship renewed, but I'd just reply to him with a copy of our last conversaion, and he'd retort with his same old material. As...juvenile as the our conversation had been, I was proud of myself for having stuck up to him, and getting out of our relationship alive, and I truly mean that. My friends were glad to have me back, after such a psychological hiatus, and recieved me with open arms. I learned that the whole time I did indeed have support, all around, but my perception had been so clouded with Logan's verbal abuse that I had been completely unaware. No, it was not an imidiate change. It took me a long time to recooperate from such an extreme situation. In fact, nearly a year. But I did it. No, I was never the same again. I've since learned that sometimes you can't go back to the way things were before--you just have to move on and look towards the future, because too much has happened to even think about going back.

Asleep in the Passenger Seat

Purple hearts fly across the screen
Of a yellow coated envy, and low self-esteem
A pink flash dance that you can't reject,
Yet you can't imbrace it and can't respect
Motion all in a fuzzy green haze
Blue tinted feelings that can't be erased

Call it a fever, in the flask of my brain
I curl up inside and blow it away
My breathe is chill and it whirls all around
Get's lost in the blackness, then it stumbles down
To the small of my back, where we lie in twos
I coat you in purples, you coat me in blue






Kim is really giving me a migrane with this over-kill of Camera Obscura. One can only take so much.