this hope and optimism i wear will grow out like the highlights in my hair

i want this bruise on my knee to go away
so i can stop bursting into tears
every time i see it.
reminding me of why it's there.
i watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
last night.
fell asleep on the couch in my clothes.
woke up in a puddle.
crying in my sleep.
hair stuck to my forehead and cheeks.
wanted to erase you.
at the same time,
wanted you to be here to say
"please don't erase me"

i wanted to be ok
but i'm not ok.
need to make a change.
cut my hair.
change myself.
can't stand looking in the mirror
seeing what you saw
what you pushed away, pushed out
grew tired of
and didn't want anymore.

tomorrow you're getting on a plane.
going back to england for a bit.
the last time you went
i said
"next time i'm hiding in your suitcase"
you said
"or you could sit in the seat next to me".
had some plans
like so many plans
as it turned out
they just looked good
on paper.

must have lost my mind when i lost your heart key on my way out strange how you're not with me

still here
still me
still everything and nothing at all.

one coffee, two hours and numerous cigarettes later, my mind is still lost in space. stuck out in orbit like a satellite. he says there's a horror show inside of his head and i know it to be true- so why bother with punishment? in many ways, the current state of failure is punishment enough for both of us. besides, i just don't have the energy to be cruel to someone who means so much to me. despite everything, i'm not capable of such swift change. around me, everything's changed- but i still feel the same.

i'm not going anywhere

you're already in there...i'll be wearing your tattoo...

it's not that i'm just lonely,
it's that i'm lonely for you.

what to do
what to do
what to do
when i miss you.

people at the WestTown never cease to amaze me. in one breath they say they're sorry to hear things didn't work out and in the next, they're jotting down their number and telling me to give them a call. they just don't get it. barely single 24 hours and they think it's a good time to sneak in there. besides- i'm not really single; i've got my heartache to keep me company. i don't want anyone else, anyway. the worst thing i could do would be to move on to someone else. it's likely that i'd only end up doing to them what paul did to me anyway. he was still having nightmares about his ex when we started seeing each other. i'm not even on to the nightmare phase of things. i'm still having the dreams where he's sleeping soundly beside me.

such is life.

move along, little doggy

it's over.
(for real this time).
i picked up my things.
he apologized.
a variant of the 'it's not you, it's me' chestnut.
(yeah i know who it is).
asked me if i wanted a cigarette.
uh, no thanks...i wanted your heart, silly.
the cab took forever to arrive.
i tripped on the stairs while leaving.
thoroughly traumatizing.
went home.
wrote a letter.
went back to drop it off.
watched him get into a car with a friend.
off to a bar, i imagine.
good time to celebrate.
(that's probably not true...just wish it was so i could trade sad with angry).

i'll get over this.
one day.
i have to get over it.
just have to get the tears out of my system
first.
dry up.
toughen up.
can't be a puppy anymore.
how can you miss what you never had?
easy.

re-read this today.
wrote it the day after.
day after what?
you know what day it was.
why do i re-read these things?
glutten for punishment, i am.
oh well.
that's enough.
enough being heartbroken for one day.

die bart die, it's german...

last night i went out for thai food with the lovely victoria. she brought me nestle baci's, which means she truly loves me. post thai-food, we went to slainte's for a few drinks which is a super fun irish bar close to my apartment. the evening was a smashing success but lately i've been getting all stressed out about going to sleep.

why?

i'll tell you why.

the girl who lives above my apartment is driving me mental. aside from the fact that she listens to her music WAY too loud and stomps around her apartment in stilettos at two in the morning- there's this whole alarm clock situation. i understand that i can't blame her fully for the piss poor sound-proofing quality of the building but that doesn't take away from the fact that every morning at 7:45 i resolve to kick her door in and just slaughter her in her peaceful, peaceful booze-induced sleep. her bedroom is right above mine, and her alarm clock goes off so loudly that it wakes me up out of a sleep. it's a frustrating cocktail of music and buzzer and she DOES NOT TURN IT OFF. oh no...instead, she hits the snooze button. that fucking thing goes off every ten minutes from 7:45 to 9 am and it's slowly (or not that slowly) turning me into an INSANE person. usually i just bang on the ceiling with a broom that i keep beside my bed, but this morning i was particularly pissed about the whole situation and decided to go up to her apartment, decked out in a bathrobe and slippers and knocked on her door with such force that my hand was aching after. she didn't answer the door. possibly because the god-awful blaring of Pink's "stupid girls" prevented her from hearing me. but it's more likely because she could hear me cursing and swearing ballistically outside the door. she ended up shutting it off before i got down the stairs but it was already too late. wide awake and furious- i couldn't fall back asleep and so just sat in the bath conjuring up plans to exact my revenge.

any suggestions that you might have are fully welcome.

put this under your pillow

back in the day, i used to sit around wishing with my whole heart for a terminal illness. that was the most ideal of my fantastical suicide pipe-dreams. mostly because i knew i'd never have the guts. then later on i got some guts. later still, i'd just hope for a car to hit me when i was crossing the street. that's been the most enduring one, thus far. not all that creative, and worse- the cars always slow down. in university, medication quieted down those desires- and every other kind of desire as well. you don't feel bad, you don't feel good, you don't feel at all. that's when you begin to miss the warm blanket of depression. anti-depressants are like that annoying younger sibling who snaps the lead tip from all your pencils and then hides the sharpener so that when you go to write something- you no longer have the means.

i was going nowhere with this.

too many sharks
too many razor sharp rocks
too many ways to bleed to death
all nestled along your shore
well
i had me a life
of laundry days and
roast beef nights
but i left it out in the sun
too long
and it's done
don't worry
don't worry
non te preoccupa
and somehow it's so fitting
to think of myself
no deeper than the ink
or the paper on which i've written...
still me
"your forgiveness
ain't the neighbourhood
i'm looking to live in, baby"

+

on a side note...what's this about?

grey vs. gray....what's the difference?

it is pouring rain today. yesterday was so beautiful that it makes today's weather seem all the more miserable.

ah well.

the sun is shining for me in other ways right now. so i really can't complain.

for those of you in the gta- i have an upcoming event to share that may be of interest. jeremy lalonde, actor/writer/film editor-extraordinaire and long-time amigo has finished his first feature-length screenplay, The Unfinished Work of Paul Shepard. The Victory Cafe (581 Markham St- near bathurst and bloor) is hosting a public reading of the screenplay this thursday march 16 at 7pm. be there or be square.

in other news... dallas green played a sold out show last night at club77 and i missed it due to the sold-outedness. i'm inconsolable...truly.

eight days until the first day of spring where we all join hands and sing that gandharvas song... any takers?

an inventive imagination

i'm having a hard time dealing lately.

in defiance of logic, it seems that i'm not entitled to any of the feelings that i have because then i'm competing in the 'who's more stressed' game. since i don't have much competitive spirit- i'm fine with folding and going along with it.

a lot of the time- i get asked a question where the answer has already been decided. then it doesn't matter what i say, because unless i agree with the decided answer- i'm wrong, or lying, or whatever. it's ridiculous. it's unfair. it's making me feel psycho even though i know i'm not.

if you think all women are liars, fine- but for the record, i'm not.
if you think i only care about your job, fine- but for the record, i don't.
if you think i give a shit about your money, fine- but for the record, i never have.
if you think you'll honestly never be able to have a normal relationship because your work is too time consuming and too important, fine- but for the record, that's insane.

i see how it would make things easier if all of those things were true- but they just aren't. i'm a good person. making me feel bad about myself doesn't change that.

in the midst of all of this- i just can't let go yet.
i know there was something- a connection- i can't forget it.

i just want to be loved.
i just want to be happy.
i just want to be happy and loved.

why must it be so difficult?

wave, smile, do something

i think i'm suffering from stockholm syndrome.

really.

it's the only explanation that could account for why i continuously hold on and attempt to justify and even sympathize with actions that leave me feeling like (for lack of a better descriptive) nothing.

i don't understand, but i want to.
i care, but i wish i didn't.

i have a habit of writing long and detailed entries for this blog that i end up never posting. i just save them as drafts. over the past few days i've been trying o re-trace my steps back to the point when i first believed in this (and you) and why. re-reading some of the drafts that i've written over the past four months is nothing short of astonishing. i used words like sensitive, understanding, gentle, accepting, clear-headed, honest...

part of me wonders if i secretly knew all along that i was heading for punishment...and whether or not i participated willingly because i thought that, on some level, i deserved it.

your policy sucks

yeah well...your policy blows!!!

when i was in highschool, i participated in the model u.n general assembly.

i was micronesia.

so while the smart kids from the more important highschools argued the issues of abortion and foreign policy in the peaceful tradition of the G7 (which included shouting, name-calling and threats to tell their mommies), i sat in the back corner of the assembly hall drinking out of a juice box and twirling the long strands of my micronesian shell necklace.

i guess what i'm saying is i need a vacation.