Saturday, December 04, 2004

assimilating

there is a constant pull in me. contradicting passions that never let up or ease away. my heart strings pull hard and soft all at the same time, playing songs that only the skies seem to understand. i live on a see-saw ever swaying; ever changing from one high to another. the spectrum of the human condition is so wide... and every time i extend further inward or outward i never fail to be surprised or challenged by what i find.

i have forgotten what it is like to write while consciously making an effort to sound poetic with prose that could read like a stale and routine essay or research paper. i have forgotten the power of word choice and how snobby one can sound contemplating their vernacular.

the wings of this social butterfly have reopened and are extending towards the heavens and hells that we have created for ourselves. i realize that while most people create a box for themselves to live in, i create a box that i constantly want to rip to shreds or fly away from. but in a sense... that IS my box. my craving for more, for deeper meaning, for greater, hidden significance is my crutch. my routine.

i am so painfully afraid of being boring. so petrified that my story is not worth telling. so worried that i won't effect anyone... yet so mad that i crave validation from others. why can't it just be that my story means something to me? why does it have to matter to someone-ANYONE else? moments of introversion crash into whirlwinds of extroversion that give me a high that i can only assume is better than drugs.

bottom line is that i have spent the last two days socially slutting up and whoring myself out. i have met so many new people and have reconnected with so many sparkles that have dimmed in my eyes. i have missed this part of me... closeted and shut off in attempts to be more adult.

i don't want a grown up 9-5. i don't want the house and the dog and the kids yet. i want late nights full of starry eyes and music so loud and fast that my ears can't keep up. i want too much caffeine and nicotine and drunken sexual tension with men and women i will never touch. i want fantasy and dreams and i want them tangible and real and just slightly out of my reach. i want a reason to jump and stretch and try my damnedest to capture them.

declaration to the world of people trying so hard not to be noticed:
fight existence and deny love. hide your sex and shield your mind from leaving its comfort zone. feel sorry for yourself and everything else. envy, admire and hate me secretly.... but get the FUCK out of my way.

i sing to myself long-winded ballads of horrible rhyming schemes and tangets that lead down paths to nowhere. but the view. the view soaked in color and bleeding of all the emotions we teach our young boys to ignore and suppress. the vulnerable confidence and honesty that our young girls never quite seem to embrace- make that the heart i wear on my shoulder.

manipulate my wordy game playing into something more than a strategy for getting men to desire me sexually and let those who read this know that as much as i want to write it for myself... it is always with you in mind. those sentences and awkward phrases that twinge a subtle sense of "is she talking about me?" in the back of your throat:

they are as real as you want them to be. because they are already so much more than real to me.

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