2004, Apologies, Weird Feelings, Bad Memories, Hurricane Floyd, To Sir, With Love.
Saint Louise Was Listening On
2:41 a.m. || 2005-01-18
feeling weird.
let me explain:
feelings time to time for the what-ifs and could-have-beens in life that i can't quite put behind, despite the years.
dad was searching for "deejayelle" on the web today, though i asked him not to come here, and i'm nervous about what he might have found, you know, after 22 years of not knowing eachother, i'm afraid to let him know i'm not a saint.
my right and my left get confused when i do web design, and so i think maybe in real life too, my left kidney hurts, i mean my right one, i mean i'm not up for anal tonight, so no one ask, 'k?
let me explain about the previous entry: two hearts inside each of us, the one that beats blood and feels the outside emotion, the smaller one behind that whispers to you in the silence and darkness of the night, the one that reminds me of how utterly crushed i was by things passed long ago, the one that sharply alerts me that even though i lay sleeping next to the man i love i will always love the others, always feel the pain inflicted by all of us on eachother.
again. the heart that betrays, not out of malice, but nature.
in 2004 i have almost changed my life in a drastic sense a million times, been one sharp breath away from words that a person could never take back, one sleepless night too many aginst movements that might alter the course of my history, one drink too many, one nyQuil too many, one phone call too many, one diary entry or two over the top, crossing that line...
one night a few years ago this person and i were in my basement, and i was in my bathrobe, trying to convinve him to have sex with me, after this concert. and i have thought back to that a million times, and you know, i never apologized for what an asshole i must have seemed like that night, and how a million times when i looked at him and thought he didn't find me smart or beautiful, or accused him of things i know him a better man of, i never stopped to ask him what was really going on inside him, what was really ripping us apart, why i was so insecure, why i couldn't reassure him in the things i made him fear. for some reason, of the 3 years of history i had with someone else before him, that prior person as faded from my mind, and all that's left there is the lonely thoughts of our mistakes, it is the breifer encounter, (in a sexual sense, but by no means in a personal one) that makes the longer impression on me, it is the person who in some ways rescued me, and in some ways might always haunt me, and i know you're reading all of this, and i hope you understand maybe that this is my love letter, my apology of sorts, my introspection on us, my late night rambling of my god, all these things i can see now, all these feelins left by the wayside because 2 things, Paul... (Bruno, darlin' whatever.)
1:) i'm not always right, you know a lot of the times you let me win
and 2:) i'd rather you yell than just smile and nod, but I know you do it to nettle me, and you like it that way.
and so do i.
the upside to all of this is that i know in a few months there'll be an entry just like this, you know i never can stop writing about you. you know, i never can quite escape these patterns of mine, they're just me.
i think maybe everyone who comes here has started to realize that.
geddy lee, you know, sang it best when neil peart wrote "there is a fine line between love and illusion, a fine place to penetrate."
i have no where left, like a pincushion. you know i do it to myself.
i wrote this entry a long time ago that said i was the girl ex-boyfriends talk to when they can't get laid, and i had it right for a few of them, but not all, and i can see that now. you know, self-esteem isn't all it's cracked up to be- but i still wish i had a little more of it.
i wish i had a lot of things.
time slipping through my hands like water, i'm dying of thirst in the ocean.
this entry has been... quenching. i'm off to tub it and cool down for a while. take that how you will.