March 2009
48 posts
“I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn’t know you had inside you. And it doesn’t matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends… you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he’ll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you’ll go somewhere new. And you’ll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.”
—iris
“I’ve found almost everything ever written about love to be true. Shakespeare said “Journeys end in lovers meeting.” What an extraordinary thought. Personally, I have not experienced anything remotely close to that, but I am more than willing to believe Shakespeare had. I suppose I think about love more than anyone really should. I am constantly amazed by its sheer power to alter and define our lives. It was Shakespeare who also said “love is blind”. Now that is something I know to be true. For some quite inexplicably, love fades; for others love is simply lost. But then of course love can also be found, even if just for the night. And then, there’s another kind of love: the cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. Its called unrequited love. Of that I am an expert. Most love stories are about people who fall in love with each other. But what about the rest of us? What about our stories, those of us who fall in love alone? We are the victims of the one sided affair. We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones, the walking wounded. The handicapped without the advantage of a great parking space! Yes, you are looking at one such individual. And I have willingly loved that man for over three miserable years! The absolute worst years of my life! The worst Christmas’, the worst Birthday’s, New Years Eve’s brought in by tears and valium. These years that I have been in love have been the darkest days of my life. All because I’ve been cursed by being in love with a man who does not and will not love me back. Oh god, just the sight of him! Heart pounding! Throat thickening! Absolutely can’t swallow! All the usual symptoms.”
—iris
“Iris, if you were a melody… I used only the good notes.”
—miles
Plastic
Plastic, everything is plastic. Hard and synthetic to the touch, much too harsh for delicate fingertips. I’m so tired of it, this sick prison that we’ve built. We have no one to blame but ourselves and yet, here i am bitching and moaning. I can’t help it. I get so frustrated when i look beyond this bubble of a reality that there’s something so much more than this. Oh how i pine for it; it hurts more than a broken heart. I just want to be one with nature, uninterrupted by the sound of obnoxious car motors and any other unatural utterance that man has created. One with myself, so i can hear my own thoughts, my own breath, my own heartbeat…
February 2009
34 posts
“I still exist”
—chris nielson
“Dear Diary, I am writing in your bullshit pages because my shrink is crazier then I am. He thinks you’re therapy. He figures if two babies can hammer me into a Psycho ward, what will I do with this ? He is so stupid. He’s so stupid that he thinks he pulled me through the breakdown when it was Christy. Always. Only Chis. I was looking through his postcards. Paintings were his obsession. He used art as another way to love me, to help me. To keep us always together.”
—annie nielson
“All God does is watch us and kill us when we get boring. We must never, ever be boring.”
—C. Palahniuk
oh crap...
Recently, i’ve been waking up everyday wishing i hadn’t. I don’t have the strength to deal with the daily demons of life anymore and i’m struggling to keep my eyes open for the angels. I feel guilty at work; with those wide eyes staring at me innocently, they know i dont want to be there, not because i dont love them, but because beneath this black armor there’s a distraught little girl. Too consumed in her own distorted reality. I’ve been too much of a dreamer and now i’ve floated so high that i’m fucked either way. Just perfect.
It’s all your fault.
“I don’t know who you are, Henry… but I dream about you almost every night.”
—lucy
“Maybe you can find yourself a nice antique rocking chair to die in.”
—clementine
Recipe for Disaster
There’s been this monkey on my back that’s been relentlessly bothering the shit out of me. With a crazy month of work and class, i’ve been so distracted that it makes functioning non-existant. I’m watching everything I’ve created, my safe little nest, fall apart in shambles, all because of this stupid little monkey. If only I could trap that ape and send him off to some faraway animal penitentiary and just forget him. Just forget him. Forget him. Him.
“Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone.”
—Pablo Picasso
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