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08.15.2002 -
i hurt. everybody hurts. i want to rationalize this pain to numbing nothingness. when i was younger i used to tell people that i could feel my heart hurt. feel my heart swell. and i'd want to pop it or purge it or vacuum my chest from the inside out (imagine running over your thorax, bump liker) i want the hurt extracted because it was too much and no one could see it and so how could anyone believe the very symiple but honest truth. i hurt. i am not ready yet to be completely open about who i am and what i do (but i could give a hint, that my job is to sit at a computer all day and write about books that matter). i believe in what i do, but my obsession with the belief that my life doesn't much matter to any one but myself (and myself is not enouggh) distracts me to web spaces like these. today, i hurt and the person i want most in the world can't notice, she's too caught up in hurting herself, again. i've given up on taking care of her, tiptoeing backwards but steadily. ever watched your friend perish, watch her sliding down the precipice of a cliff, and after so many times of hanging your arm out for her to reach and climb back up you imagine, just once just once bringing your arms in to yourself and wrapping it with the tight strength around yourself that you usually save only for her, and from this cross armed opinion, watch her fall. as another close friends in her best airline stewardess voice: 'circling, please secure your own seatbelt, before trying to secure that of the child next to you." i see her accelerating towards the same battered wall. what the hell makes her believe that the impact won't break her as hard as the last time? [what makes *me* think that with sticking out my one arm, sporadically along the way, will stop this car and will not break my arm] i won't out of this so badly. and i can get out - i just have to have the hardness to get out of this car and slam the door behind me. no one's landing
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