I Only Wasted Time Outdoors But I Really Never Wasted Any Time Outside
I Only Wasted Time Outdoors But I Really Never Wasted Any Time Outside
I saw a woman in class today wear khaki shorts, a tank top and tennis shoes with long white socks. I felt weird because I have only seen that outfit on elementary school kids. Like Dora the Explorer. I thought that she would get cold. But her stomach was showing. I’m glad that people feel comfortable with their bodies. I don’t understand how they can feel that comfortable with their bodies when it is cold outside.
I was told today that I am not ready for a relationship. I agree.
Some people just kiss for attention. Sex is a great way of getting attention. It promotes self-love and ultimately narcissism. If every person had a clone, I bet people would fuck their clones all of the time.
Most professors appreciate the effort I take into going to their office hours. The professor I visited today was kind of a dick. I wanted to bang my fists against his desk and say, “Really?!” I did not.
I want a poison garden when I have my own house. It will be dangerous and untouchable. I think that’s a great metaphor on how I want to be. Dangerous and untouchable. Don’t poke me. Don’t grab me. Don’t think about it. I’ll bite your hand off. I’m a patch of nightshade.
I love sending e-mails to my friends. I love hearing their stories. They all have far more interesting lives than I have. I feel boring, but I feel boring in the best way. Not like vanilla ice cream everyday. But in a fabric softener kind of way. Sometimes I am afraid of being “that person”. I really don’t know who “that person” is, but I think they’re recognizable when you see them.
I might be avoiding people who need me. They’re too far away to touch. I forget what they look like. I am okay with this. I used to look in mirrors and see their faces peering back. I only see my eyes now. I feel much better. I’m glad that I didn’t get that tattoo and
I am glad that I didn’t go to Pitchfork last year. If I could lay in bed all day, listening to my music I would be happy.
Class is ruining my happiness. Class used to define my happiness. Learning on my own is more worthwhile than learning in class.
broken brambles breached the passage of the butterflies. i caught them in my fists.
Last night you invaded my psyche. It was assaulting.
You were holding hands with a woman who was skinnier than me, but not as pretty.
My mouth tasted metallic, because I saw that you were holding hands with a woman.
I tried to grab your wrist in order to drag you into a more private place so we could discuss it.
We talked about her in the outdoor courtyard of that really terrible dive bar the night you wedged yourself in my mind. You molded my anima with your hands.
You wouldn’t leave the woman’s side.
I burst out
Why have you stopped talking to me?
Why do we have to keep on reliving this?
Because I’m doing cycles of back handsprings through this information and I am getting tired of closing my eyes and letting go.
You didn’t offer the decency to tell me anything.
Not even a polite refusal.
So I grabbed the woman and told her everything because you told her nothing.
I made her cry.
Then she began to scream at me.
***** !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ******************************************************
Jung said that dreams hold meaning, we just don’t have the tools to properly translate them. “Dreams give information about the secrets of the inner life and reveal to the dreamer hidden factors of his personality”
I had the book the first time we traveled distances to see one another. I smashed a butterfly we found between the pages. The wings broke into feathery pieces and lodged themselves in the spine of the book. They were all living but my eyes were so distracted with alternate visions.
You intervened when she lunged at me.
You yelled at me.
I told you
I have awoke a different person everyday. Ever single day we haven’t talked I have become 24 hours worth of a new person. I am a horribly mean person. I know you could never speak to this kind of monster.
I woke up so upset, I fell asleep again.
My mouth tastes salty. Like tears.
I opened the book of Jung I brought with me to see you for the first time. A fragment of a wing fell out. I rolled it between my thumb and my index finger. Ink spread into the folds of my fingers. It wasn’t ink. It was the remnants of the butterfly. Continuing to make its mark even though its wings are stiff.
I wonder if I step into your dream scape, or if you think it’s all a false front.
I wonder if you would ever call me if I did.
You told me that we have a weird connection. I said we were kindred spirits. I told you I couldn’t talk to you anymore. You asked me if that is what kindred spirits do. You made me feel so guilty for even questioning it. You stopped speaking to me two months later.
I want to send you an e-mail.
I don’t want to talk to you. You have nothing to do with my life.
I want to text you and tell you to stop infecting my psyche.
Would you be so decent as to do what I’ve asked?
I laid horizontally on the freezer in the pseudo office.
“Would you rather?”
I heard all of your exploits of how you ‘lost’ your virginity to some guy who was in his thirties even though you were only 15. I warned you about STDs. Just because you decided to bareback and the sex ed program in our high school was terrible and they ignored anyone who wasn’t straight.
I love not being pregnant. I would never force my imaginary infant to learn piano.
1 in 3 piano players experience lower back pain.
I don’t live my life in erect state. My stomach swells in admiration of the more active. I’m less like Otzi and more like the Lucy - man from 3300 B.C. vs. 3.2 million year old Australopithecus. I think that she laid on her back all day trying to figure out messages in the clouds.
He pulled out his phone to take pictures of the clouds slicing the sunset. I wanted to laugh at him but he was so damn sincere.
Everyone got drunk and fell over spurting blood from pavement wounds. I couldn’t get drunk because I was caught stealing bottles of cheap wine from the wedding and came home vomiting in my car unable to control myself. My mom told me that I am a weird drunk. I’m glad that she’s only seen me drunk. I told her it was the first time I drank. I lied.
I asked him if he would go to a concert with me even though we hadn’t spoken for several months because we were fighting because I ended things over a lame text-message in a stupid fight over ukelele music. He said yes even though the tickets were 80 dollars and it wasn’t really a concert, it was a festival and it rained and rained and he didn’t know any of the artists, he kind of just came for me. Men yelled at him because he didn’t place me on his shoulders so I could see better and then they yelled at him because I was shivering because of all of the rain. He apologized and said next time. He forgot about it the next time and I never expect to see him at a concert again.
I played a concert in my front yard with my acoustic guitar and the four chords I had memorized. The audience consisted of my self-aware dog.
I got “the best” to dance with me while he wore a “Vote For Hillary” sticker on his stomach even though he wasn’t a Democrat and he really didn’t care for Hillary but we danced in the commons to that local band. When I saw the video for the first time I burst into tears.
His body laid horizontally on the table.
*Touch my waist right now when I pass you on my way to get to my seat at the movie theater but don’t you dare kiss me right now wait until we get to your car. Turn on the engine and then turn the lights off. Please let’s not end up in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I think the despair from that place will leak into your mouth.
**Don’t give me a nickname or sweetly say my name under your breath. I do not want that. I am not really that interested. Call me on the phone when you are coming back from the bars and I have no place to sleep. Do not text me. My fingers don’t have the capacity to fathom the depths of your one-worded message of “now”.
*** Take your tongue and lick my entire face when we are sitting on a bench at the park at 3:00 in the afternoon even though we never see one another when it is actually light outside. Tickle my conscious and make me giggle lacking any superiority. Mark me underneath a tree. Fuck whoever you want tonight.
****Take my hand right now because I am drunk and I want to feel a hand on my hand. Also I can’t really balance right now because I twisted my ankle the other day when I was sober but in heels. Let me hang onto the world somehow. Even it is through your diffusion.
***** Actually don’t. You’ll just do what you want anyways. But I don’t care. Tell me what you expect.
I told him that I felt something trying to tear through my skin. I said that it was a sign that something large was going to happen in my life. That things were bad, but everything was going to change very, very soon. I woke up with tunnels dug out of my arm. Like ants had tried to create kingdoms in my veins. He didn’t have much of a response. I thought he would have experienced something like that. He hadn’t.
I earnestly believed that things would be getting better. The following week I was diagnosed and fell into a tornado. There is something to be said about watching a disaster. Fear crawling into sleep. Isolation and vulnerability are two of our largest fears.
I asked him to tell me about his fears but he refused. I shouldn’t have trusted him. But he told me that he was having hallucinations. He told me at 2:00 in the morning because he knew that I rarely slept when I was not involved in storms.
I whispered into his ear and told him that he would become the person he wanted to soon. Once his anima and animus were leveled.
I stopped having dreams. Even when my room was cold. I slept next to my computer. It contains more thoughts than I have. My mind leaked into the screen. Framed each word I had ever thought.
I’ve become too dependent on my keyboard to ensure my cleverness. I just have to realize I’m ordinary. And not self-reliant. Emerson would be upset.
I want to hike in Washington for a week. I don’t know if I’ll find a Yeti or something better. Whenever you take road trips you think that you’ll discover something great. It never happens.
When I asked him about it he said that it sounded like an existential problem. He tore the words out of my molars. Then hid them underneath his pillow so he could sleep with dreams.
When I was young, my grandmother would take me out to the local cemetery in order to do grave etchings.
We would get out special parchment and a new pack of Crayola crayons and carefully trace over each faded carving. We tried to save the careful phrasings from erosion, but we could never last against time.
Slowly we rubbed our crayons against the stone, trying to preserve some stranger’s memory. We attempted to rework the letters that had already vanished. We pieced together a love story.
I would walk back from the small graveyard, arms full of craft supplies, mind filled with questions.