Sometimes I have the fear that what is broken will never be mended. Sometimes, I really do feel satisfied by that dangerous emo idea of the way it stings to feel the blood bubble up from a deep cut. I know that has an air of ridiculous melodrama and attention grabbing, though it most certainly is not intended to be so. Its just me thinking more of those deep thoughts I seem to tag so often. I don’t actually want to cut myself, gross- I’m just saying that I understand why they do it- how it releases that heavy and all consuming hurt. I remember having that much hurt in my heart. I remember how impossible it seemed to do anything other than sit for hours in the pain of it. I remember being so lost and so hurt that I was choking on my own hurt, puking up my own pain- trying with all of my might to expel from inside of me the horrible feeling. I try not to feel that way any more.
There are so many good things. Good things everywhere. Good things on all sides. Good things coming at me from every direction, fizzling and crackling like a beautiful fireworks display, urging me to be happy, to be satisfied, to acknowledge that the small pains of the heart are nothing when compaired to the beauty of the human experience. I know. I know. I try so hard to be that person, who with inner eloquence and strength of character, endures her pain straight-backed and smiling broadly. It is really difficult. I lose my way. I need a shoulder to lean on and look around to find no one- or the hour is so late, that like Jesus in the garden, being tempted, all my best companions have gone to sleep, not willingly leaving me, just fading into their own greater purpose or worldly cares, leaving me alone with my cup. And my cup is looking mighty full, and mighty tempting these days.
I promised myself that life would pick up in 09. But I did the same in 08. I suppose it did pick up in 08, maybe just not quite as high as I’d prayed. So I keep on trucking. Is my homme gentile around the corner? He might be. I just have to be patient. Or not. Maybe I won’t be patient. Maybe I need to be a fucking machine (not a fucking machine though) in order to power through this very, very bad feeling. Its possible. Very possible.
I am going to go see Dirty Dancing with my roommate tonight- and I need to enjoy myself even though this day has had a tremendous amount of tension and upheavel already. As hard as I try I just cannot seem to claw my way out of this tub of murky water.
Cold, cold water surrounds me now
And all I’ve got is your hand
Lord, can you hear me now?
Lord, can you hear me now?
Lord, can you hear me now,
Or am I lost?
No one’s daughter allow me that
And I can’t let go of your hand
Lord, can you hear me now?
Lord, can you hear me now?
Lord, can you hear me now?
or am I lost?
oooo, I love you
Don’t you know I love you
And I always have
Hallelujah
Will you come with me?
Cold, cold water surrounds me now
Cold cold water surrounds me now
And all I’ve got is your hand
Lord, can you hear me?
Lord, can you hear me now?
Lord, can you hear me?
Am I lost with you?
Am I lost with you?
Am I lost with you?

Ever Virgin.



