Lucid

In order to grasp true lucidity, one must rely on their own perceptions, unfettered by the constraints of common thought. It is only once we go a little bit mad that we experience the clarity of sanity.

Maybe we all sound as crazy to him as he sounds to us.

One of the most beautiful, confident, self-assured women I have ever met felt threatened by my presence (read: hopeless girlish crush on her boyfriend) when I felt myself to be a socially and physically awkward 15 year old. Maybe there's something to this. I'm not sure whether her perception or mine was closer to the truth. Either I came off a lot better than I felt, or she was a lot less confident on the inside than on that cucumber-cool exterior.

Oh promised land, what a wicked ground.
Build a dream, watch it all come down.

People squirm when I smile at them on the bus. At first I was doing it to be friendly, now, I'll admit, I'm kinda doing it to see them squirm. And to see if I can find someone who doesn't.

Oh god, he looks exactly the same. He still won't talk to me, but now I can't hope to walk past him without knowing he's there. Hell in a handbasket.

If you want games, I'll play. Games are fun, but don't do me any favours. I don't want your pity.

Bloody hell if you'd just eat a few more vegetables! I know that it's more complicated than that, but part of me just wants my good old friend back. I want to be the more damaged one again, but it's only partially so you won't have to be. How silly a hat do I have to wear before you'll notice me again?

But the half-finished bottles of inspiration lie like ghosts in my room.

I don't know how it's so easy for them. These things don't come easily to me.

Today's what, the 14th? I miscounted, it's coming up on nine weeks now. Hell.

Hyenas laugh when they're agitated.

Maybe a little rampage is what I need...

Another Saturday night, and I ain't got nobody,
I got some money 'cause I just got paid.
How I wish I had someone to talk to, I'm in an awful way.

Why do I already know everything I read in Cosmo this month? Well, except for that trick with the... never mind. But how come I'm so much more sure of what I already know because now I've read it in Cosmo?

Poor brokenhearted baby. I'm having a hard time mustering sympathy and stifling I-told-you-so's. I'm lonely too, I've been lonely longer, and you weren't going to do a damn thing about it, so why should I?

Good night and good luck.
Don't worry, you can have mine. I'm sure not using it.
Daydream Believer

Visitation

I refuse to get my hopes up. I'll believe he's coming when he shows up on my doorstep. Probably just as well, my hopes are so bloody high about everything else lately, and here I am pretending they're not. Well, not really pretending, just highlighting the part that's not so hopeful. Aggravating and emphasizing the parts of me that are sad, stressed, scared, and hurt. Maybe that's the reason for all the tears, the longing looks at those little pill bottles in the drug stores. Suppression isn't really so healthy. Which is why I'm not so sure that not getting my hopes up about this is a good thing. I don't even know what to expect, really. If he shows up (he'll show up, when it's important, he's a good guy). I don't know what will happen (and will I want it to? Am I really as important to him as he says I am?). Maybe (hopefully?) he'll be as out of place here as he wasn't there. Two different worlds I live in, shouting across the divide. This is my world, and this one isn't his. Maybe he'll have no control here, it'll be my turn with some power. A shit disturber, what'll he pull this time? And what will it mean in a month's time? And was this maybe the worst idea yet?


I don't want him to arrive, but once he's here, I don't want him to leave. Be careful what you wish for much? He's upset, I'm upset, and I feel like I'm in a holding pattern, like I'm waiting to land, to actually get on with my journey. Sometimes I wish it didn't hurt so much to hurt him. I could've made this like ripping a band-aid off, but I didn't. I thought I did it for him, but maybe I really did it for me. Is this easier? I don't even know. I probably couldn't have done it anyways, I'm a terrible liar. Yesterday was so fantastic, but maybe that kind of thing is just making the whole thing worse. He wishes, I wish. We all scream for ice cream.

Keep Dreaming
Daydream Believer

Friends With Complications

Her: "So, uh, are you two, uh...?"
Me: Nervous laughter
Him: Nervous laughter
Me: "No, we're, uh, friends..."
Her: Raised eyebrows "With benefits?"
Him: "Um..."
Me: "More like complications."

An old conversation. Out of date by several months. but leave it to me to remember the random things, some good memories, some bad, a few regrets wrapped up in the scent of Old Spice and Irish Spring, flowers, swamp goo, and the not-quite-clean of a boy/man's apartment. We had our share of complications, mostly my fault, but I asked the questions and he answered honestly. It wasn't really his fault, although I blame him for it sometimes. A lot of the time. I wished for him to do things, say things, and now I wish I could remember them, so I could do them or say them, to make this better. But I can't. "Why do you have to be so attractive?" If I only had a nickel for every time I said that to someone. Right along with "What does she have that I don't?" and the inevitable answer of "tits". But in all seriousness, powerlessness just sucks, in all its forms, no matter which side of the equation you're on. Which kinda makes me wonder where the power in these situations is. I was so sure he had it, but now in a different position, maybe I was wrong about that. Maybe I was wrong about a lot. I guess it's complicated.

I'm surprised I'm not grinning like an idiot. I love hearing that people think well of me. No surprise, who doesn't? But it's best when it's completely brutally honest, and still favourable. I like to hear the brutally honest, no-holds-barred, I-swear-I-didn't-know-you-were-listening opinions people have of me. It's probably narcissistic, and it's probably not very good for me, especially because it's not always a glowing review. But I can't help it, something in me wants to know how I appear to the outside world, because everything looks different depending on the eyes you're using. And every now and then, what people think of you has an effect. Sometimes you can teach yourself to see what they see.
I love the sound of the words she wrote as they roll around in my skull, staving off, at least for a couple of hours, that irritating voice full of derision and foul mood. Lit from within, all red lipstick and dark eyes, young and powerful, something dark, delicious, and alive.

I can't shake the guilt though. I'm not mad, not at her, though I don't think she believes it. It's the guilt that was bound to come back ever since I said "I wish I was a little more like him". Well, now I am a little bit, and I wish I wasn't. He revels in this, having the means to manipulate, to hurt. I just want to make all the hurt go away, and I don't know how.

The older I get, the shakier the foundations of my friendships seem, the old as well as the new. My closest oldest friend I didn't meet all that long ago. Next on the list is the one who I can barely quantify any more, all magnetism, memories, and Irish Spring. Most of the rest don't even seem like my friends, more like friends once removed, I wonder how many of them would still be around if I wasn't around him. I've never had good luck with making friends, I'm a little on the beige side, people don't tend to remember me. At least as far as I know. Every now and then the tables turn, the tide shifts, and I get to deal with the fallout. Sometimes it's more fun than others. Sometimes complications are my only real friends.

Maybe I can widen that circle a little bit.
Dream On
Daydream Believer

The Dirty Rascal

Here I am, back in the castle once again. For the second time in a seven day period. I don't resent it as much as I used to. It feels a little less like a prison, a little more like a palace right now. Especially after the massive disruption and its aftermath. I feel a little more grounded now, a little saner. Or a little less sane, and just more accepting of it. I'm not sure exactly.

"No one can hear you scream"
Frightening words, the mainstay of a certain genre of terrifying films. But sometimes they're not scary, and that can be even more terrifying.

It's too easy to blame someone else. It's also too easy to blame yourself. It's not just you, or them, it's a whole pile of different things bouncing around and off each other.

Strange that we reconnected over you telling me I was in over my head, Red. That I'd get hurt. I should have known you were right, at least in part. Sometimes I'm too optimistic for my own good. But now it's not the same. Why is it that while the tricycle seems so steady, the four-wheeler seems so unbalanced? I miss the bike. I miss you.

Why is it so much easier to say, "I hate you" than "I love you"? It's funny that there's no shame, no stigma associated with hating someone, yet there is with loving someone. It's an easy way to sprain your dignity. I guess it's because someone you hate can't hurt you, not really. Not the same way. It's like being a turtle. Loving someone is flipping yourself (or getting flipped) onto your back. Even if they're not trying, the smallest hurt will do the maximum damage. Might kill you.

Take care what you ask of me, 'cause I can't say no.

I won't be held down by who I used to be.

Everybody's waiting for the hammer to fall.

Too young to die, and too old to believe in promises.

I hate the way you look at me, as if I was broken.

In spite of it all, I feel pretty good. Something about a brand-new bird's eye view kinda makes everything seem a little less epic. A little easier to handle.

Keep Dreaming,
Daydream Believer

Wonder

I'm getting sick of wondering. I want to stop thinking, "Is this how it's supposed to be?" I need to learn it doesn't matter how it's supposed to be, because that has no effect on how it is. And as long as how it is is how I want it, I'm in a good place.

That said, I still want to know things. I want to know why after barely talking for nearly two years all of a sudden not talking to someone for two days makes me feel like I've hardly got a grip on the world anymore. All so I can lie. Why I have to keep reminding myself that it was his idea, what he wanted. Why that matters, and why I forget it. Why I made this my problem. Why I don't crave the kiss I should. Why I still crave the kiss I shouldn't. Why I felt so liberated in the knowledge that someone who claims my friendship will hurt me so willingly, again and again, and I can't change it at all. Why I sat down at my computer nearly every day since my last blog post trying to write another one and haven't succeeded yet. Why words echo in my head until I can barely remember the voice that goes with them. Why I freaked out at an oddly familiar whiff of cologne. Why I don't feel any different. Why I don't know if I want to.

But then again, maybe I'm afraid to really ask.

Maybe I'm progressing, and the reason I suddenly don't want what I have is something like why while it's the only fit food for a teething toddler, you'd be hard pressed to find an adult who wanted to eat puréed jarred baby food. The same way I realized I'd moved on from what I wanted less than a year ago, and got a few months later. Maybe I'm just always after the chase.

Ever get caught in a daydream? Someone asks you for something, and you realize that you were a million miles away. Sometimes a little less than that in physical distance. It takes a moment to get your bearings, and you can't go back quite the same way, even though you might try.

I wrote this awhile ago, never actually posted it and I'm not sure why. I just don't remember. So I'm giving it the light of cyberspace, and let's see what happens.

Break in, break up,
Break out, break down.
Fade in, fade out,
Watch it fade away.

Fall in, fall out,
Fall down, fuck up.
Fear, freedom,
Fly away.

Run out, run in,
Run for it, run away.
Make a bet, take a chance,
Screw the rules, play.

Roxanne never put the dress on,
Cecilia won't come back.
Beth's getting sick of waiting around,
And Lucy fell out of the sky.

Dani California grew up rich,
Chantilly Lace wouldn't show her face.
And now Mustang Sally's got a ticket to ride.


Lost in a dream,
Daydream Believer

Weak

Something about tonight leaves me cold, if you'll pardon the pun. Eyes downcast. Demure, or furious. I don't know why. I can't see your eyes, which I hate. You can't see mine either, which is my last line of defense. Maybe I'll say something I regret. Maybe I'll regret it right away. Maybe it'll take a few days. Maybe I'll change your mind. World's biggest hypocrite, maybe my worst idea ever. Would I change a moment of it? For nothing short of world peace. Do I regret? Absolutely. But I'll work on that. It's over now. I have lots of regrets, I'm slowly rubbing them out, letting them fade into the background. You wanted this to do good, not bad. You should know by now that you're a force of evil in my life, in all its variable forms. You haven't called me pretty lady since we started this. I don't know why I miss it. I hated it when you said it. I only exaggerated slightly about not wanting to go home. I knew I'd have to face it if I came in. And it was better to stew out there than in here. There was the chance that you'd find a way to fix it. You usually do. You sometimes humour me. That same hug. The same as he had. You hate being compared to him, but you're so much the same. In action, in word, in memory. Maybe one day I'll be able to relegate you too. Say with confidence, "I don't need you anymore." I could say it now, and it would be a lie. Maybe I should brush up on my lying. Might be less painful for both of us. Every time, it always feels like there was something left unsaid. One final line that would tie together the loose ends.
Maybe it's goodbye...

Daydream Believer

P.S. Give me a week, once I've gone back to motown. I ought to be back to normal. Well, normal for me.