PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

the short deal

Tuesday, Jul. 23, 2002
I decided to do this last night.

BleedinG InK

I’m putting my poems there because I just can’t ever organize them in one place and because T would like to read some poetry everyday. Awww… I might add them here from time to time too. Because lets face it, I have poetry coming out my ass. I am actually in the process of learning how to host my own images and therefore at some soon date I hope to have some nice changes here. I am by no means, a designer, but I hope to be someday. I am learning slowly. I love that bleeding ink layout to death, but the cigarettes part…ewwwww But I overlooked that because I have my own vices.

Ok so you don’t have to read that last entry nightmare…here we go. The short simple version.

T and I. We click. We both love to talk to each other. We understand each other somehow. T has been pretty tight lipped about himself and I understand that. I have been there. Not wanting to talk about oneself comes from years of being disappointed by people’s reactions. I am fortunate in the fact that I am a writer and maybe everything that’s happened in the last 3 ½ years has given me a “fuck you” attitude about people’s reactions. I have gained a lot of strength from the knowledge that there will always be one prick in the crowd dying to make you feel like shit. That prick is self loathing. Remember that.

Ok so back to T. I feel myself doing the same things I did before. Or are they really the same things. Am I swinging vines? But this…this is different. This is someone that seeks me out. Is right there when I am running away. There’s a huge part of me screaming “noooonoooonoooooonooooOOOOOOooooo” And he says, “give me a reason why not…wait I have one, I am not good enough for you” This is a switch. I’m so used to guys saying that I am Not Good enough for them. There’s something oddly satisfying about someone else thinking they are not good enough for me for a change. I know it’s not healthy but I’m being honest here. It feels flattering. And then I see how sad it is to view from the other side.

Last night I told “him” about T and how I think he got me a poetry book. What’s “he” say about it? “He” said, “yippy skippy, what are you going to do..go to Afghanistan and go out for dinner?” Like “he” had to ruin my being in a good mood because something I’ve had on my list of things I’ve always wanted someone to do….just came true. It’s just a sweet thing. A poetry book from a boy. Not just any boy. But one that I like. (that always helps eh?)

And so right now I’m about fed up with “him” and his “non-friendship” behavior. Whatever! He can fuck off the next time he calls me at midnight whining about how some girl ditched him for the weekend plans they had. I will burst out laughing and say “yippy skippy that must suck!...I gotta go back to bed, or cut my toenails or something…bye” So much for that nice warm fuzzy “let’s be friends” feeling he gives off. He belittled my talking to anyone else. Like talking to someone online is stupid unless it’s him!?!

Ok here’s where in T’s email that I have issue…
I catch myself thinking, and I cannot believe I am telling you this, but I catch myself thinking, that when I get back to the states, I am going to drive to Florida and “hook up with you” and paint the town. I got this complete mental picture of how it is going to happen. I show up, you show me a little of the city, we go see a movie, some dinner, we both enjoy one of the greatest experiences in our lives, and then I would leave and attempt to keep the relationship going from afar.

Attempt to keep the relationship going from afar?? This is a strange odd thing to say…

argh, I’m a clusterfuck of want. I want to matter to someone in a way that never quite happens. How do you keep a relationship going from afar? Woah…wait isn’t that what I’ve done for the last 3 ½ years with “him”? Yeah only we skipped that one day thing. We just never even met.



“There is a reason that I did not my parents for 7 years and I am divorced…

This is how I’m told he was ever married??

-PoeticaL

…picking up her heart and gluing it all back together and deciding to forget all about boys that buy poetry books and hunt all over the Internet to find Poet Smurfs. Yeah…but I never do forget when I should…does I?

ya know the weird stuff that happens to me, I could write a book eh?
11:06 a.m. ::
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