11:35 a.m. - 01/07/02
[[i don't want to be ugly inside. don't say those words anymore.]]
I'm a vegetarian. I'd rather switch rooms than swat a fly; I'd rather switch homes than set a mouse trap. I have no desire to hurt anything, except- recently- myself...so why is it that I keep swatting these boymen? Why is it that I seem so keen on hurting them? I don't understand. I don't mean to be evil, I don't mean to be cruel to them, but the only way I know to get my point across in this situation is to grab the person by the earlobes and scream it. Unfortunately, all they have to do afterward is *blink* hurt-ly and I instantly question whether my point was so important after all.
It's the brilliance of living with people who constantly find new ways of informing you you're wrong. How you feel is wrong, what you think is wrong, and most especially, who you are is wrong. If only I could be a happy!bitch the way the people in my music sometimes are, if only I could tell people to fuck off and feel stronger for it, but I'm not like that. I try to be sometimes; I try to say, "hey look at my boundaries, see me look like stone" but that's not who I am. Only- I'm not the Hershey's-chocolate-puppy-dog girl either. No matter who wants me to be, I'm not. I've too much shame and too much anger. I'm not a doormat. I've been walked over too many times, and when I see manshoes coming my way, I break out the claws. I do.
Only...not right away. I'm good at first. I want to believe that there are exceptions- because there are exceptions, in my everyday life, in my off-line life, I have many guy-friends. But I also have a handful of boys walking around with scars from my nails. What's the matter with me, that I keep doing this to them?
It's the self-fulfilling prophecy perhaps. Perhaps this outlet for my evilness is my way of proving my perception. This is the only time I've ever had people verbalize how cruel I am.
Zach wasn't good for me. I know that. I know he wasn't good for me. My stomach turned whenever he said "lipkisses" (and as thoroughly as he seemed to have read this journal- because he, too, found it thanks to Billy) he probably knew that, yet he continued the use of the word. He's brilliant, intelligent, and I'm so drawn to that. I want so much to be able to spend hours talking about the vast scientific symbolism represented in the geometric angle at which the sky meets tree...I do. But it isn't healthy for me to be in a relationship that centers on that kind of academic bullshitting because over-analysis is probably my main distancing mechanism, and being enabled by a boy like that, is not a good idea.
There's more. He told me once that there's perhaps nothing more beautiful than a cutter because the idea that someone would rather turn their pain on themselves than risk hurting someone else is beautiful. He told me that he saw someone who reminded him of me- then proceeded to describe a girl near emaciation with scars up her arms. He told me that he loved me and if I didn't love him back there was no reason to live. He told me that he loved me and begged me to love him back, refusing to understand how much that scared me, how little my inability to "love" had to do with him. He told me that he loved me, and so he had come to *me* suicidal, and he said, I have the knife. I can't hang on anymore, but since I love you, I'm going to let you make the choice. Shall I stab myself in the throat or the chest?
The next day he apologized. He did. I used to call him to talk about the suicide stuff because I got too angry on IM; hearing an actual voice reminded me he was real and going through real pain, in need of real attention...all things I could forget on-line. Maybe I forgot them again last night, I don't know. Maybe I was so hurt by Billy that I took some of it out on Zach. But I can't have him in my life, I know that. A confused, often unstable, bipolar 15-yr-old who I let take away so much of my power so many times? A boy who thinks that pot is some higher level of living, who believes he's the only person who sees the true beauty of the world? A boy who once told me that I was the Jane to his Ricky?
I *can't* do it...
I won't. Not anymore. I'm too tired, I'm too scared, and maybe I'm too evil, but goddamnit, I'm human. Every atom in me is unique and every atom in me comes from diamonds and teredactyls and every atom in me is *human*...
I am sunlight cast through falliblity.
The letter that I sent him is as follows:
zach.
please let me stay away as I wanted. I didn't intend for you or crow to find me, and I'd appreciate you letting me have it as I intended before everyone decided to go searching. I want to be among the people I've chosen to be among. I don't want your e-mails, I don't want to think about you reading my journal. I don't like knowing that the two of you know where it is. I feel violated, and whether or not that's what you intend, if you care about me at all anymore, please let me go. this isn't some test, this isn't some weakness, this is me asking you to let me be. go be merry among your other friends. and please. if you don't care about me, if you think it will be some great thing to keep e-mailing me even though I've asked you not to, keep in mind that I have let go. I won't be reading.
-
his reply:
I shall do as you wish. I am sorry for violating. I will not visit your journal, I will not give you a thought, I will not email you ever again.
Just know that that really really hurt...
You meant so much
Bye.
_
fuck.
I think there are lesbians like Julie who could take on any boy well enough to love him, and then there are probably some who start out like me...slowly realizing they're just less likely to cut out a girl's eyes and eat them.
chord
who will now get at least 5 e-mails asking if she's gay
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