basement quashed

I sometimes think I would like to implant little radio transmitters in everyone I care about, so I know where they are at all times. more! little video cameras in their pupils, so I can see what they see.. at all times. i'd have a wall of television screens, one for each person, and would sit in front of it all day long.

my intentions are lousy with selfishness, self absorption.
I would like to be honest to a hate-inducing fault.

well..
I can count my bitter exes on twenty hands.

"You were born to be a radio song girl, they're all singing about you, it's uncanny. Have you ever really listened?"
"Of course not; I merely hear."
"Nothing I can say matters. Your armour leaves these words broken at your feet."
"Oh, tears! and accelerated heart."
"I don't think about hitting or hurting you, but sex somehow seeps in, and I have thought about raping, or treating you as someone not worth anything more."

so the rain, oh, the rain. i'd had to go into the city last night to visit my visiting mumm, walked as usual to the bus stop with my umbrella.
umbrellas are my favourite things and I would like them to grow from peoples' heads instead of hair, from angels' backs instead of wings.
my umbrella was insufficient. somehow I got soaked from eyelash- to toe-tips so I left footprint puddles on the carpet. I had to borrow my mumm's clothes, tie up her jeans with a ribbon from her hatbox and fall over in her pointy shoes.

then, wandering cold and lonely 3am streets, I feel that everyone in the world must also be wandering cold and lonely 3am streets, so why aren't we doing it together? then I realise they're curled safe in warm and unlonely 3am beds. bastards.

I have been thinking about love, lately. Love love love love love you dark and long, like midnight. Well, I am confused about it, as we know. Wonder lots about it, about the people in it, whether I have been in it.

Today I had a talk about it with Dennis, who estimates it will take him over three years to let go of me, with whom he is in it. Love. Three years is unfathomable to me, I say, thinking of how long it has taken me to get over people. Three hours, usually.

There are two people with whom I think I may have been in it. One of them has been waiting a month for me to reply to his email. I would feel quite fine with never seeing him again, as I did two weeks after he left. That previous 2weeks, though, I would have happily died. Miserably died. Been okay with dying as long as it meant I did not have to be all alone thinking of him.

I think if I were to see him again I may fall back into it, however it is just too hard to find out. Too complicated. And anyway I am fine with not being in it with him. I think this may mean that I never really was.

He is probably reading this. I am sorry. I will write you soon.

Then, the other one, my ex-husband. Oh, how confused I am about our ex-relationship.

My memory is foggy. I left him four years ago. I am, though, quite sure that I was quite happy with him, that I would have been quite happy with him for four evers. I only occasionally and briefly considered leaving him when we were together, and that was largely because I wanted to leave his horrid country. He was my longest ever relationship, and it was remarkable because I did not grow bored with him. I generally grow bored with people rather quickly. Three months, for example.

Ah, yes! I used to hypothesise that after spending three months with someone you were bound to be in love with them. I must have mentioned this theory at least a dozen times here. Well, it has changed. If you are incapable of love, as I often consider myself to be, instead of being in love with them following three months, you will be bored.

But the point. I was not bored with him, Chris, after two whole years. Then, after I left him, I cried myself to sleep for weeks afterwards. It may have been months. I was so unhappy to be out of his horrid country, so lonely for him, so hurt by him.

I was talking aloud about this to myself this afternoon, pretending to talk to Dennis, as I do with almost everyone, when I began to cry.

My goodness. I thought this a long dead issue! Four years later! In fact I have hardly thought about it, about him, at all in this time.

But, but, but. I think I am still hurt. Perhaps I should have. Thought about it.

I am beginning to think I am not so hard hearted, not so cold and impenetrable, not so duck-feather-backed as I have lead myself to believe.

How much do I feel that I hide from myself? This is not the first time a storm of emotion has taken me by surprise. Talking to someone about my father a while ago something similar happened, a great bitterness came to my attention. A great disappointment. A great feeling of.. loss, missingness, a gaping hole in my life where a father should be.

He is probably reading this. He took offense at my mocking post about the goldfish incident and I have not heard from him since. Even on my birthday, which.. oh, yes! I cried then, too. I don’t care if I never hear from him again, and do you know why? I am BITTER. I am disappointed. I admit it. I can be hurt.

I always thought myself so resilient, so independent, practically antisocial; emotionless. What an idiot, what an idiot. My armour is so leathery, so robust, even I cannot breach it, myself. So well developed it went undetected for twenty-five years.

Why?

I will die of cancer.

Edited 30/06/11 to make public. I am not sure why I posted it privately. *shrug*

still waking up with permanence at 4am or earlier, despite th time AT WHICH I go to bed. but it's gorgeous, earliest morning, when even witches are dead to th world. i've coffee, crunchynut cornflakes, wrapped in a blanket under a heater with ren&stimpy, my house glowing from every eye. I feel lucky. I feel i've promise.

4hours later: I feel an idiot. I vaguely recalled one of my thesis group mentioning we were meeting at 9am rather than 11. so am at uni, on time, except that was LAST WEEK. we DID meet at 9. and this week we are meeting as usual at 11. sigh.

3hours later: what is wrong with me today? I feel so dissatisfied. I feel wrong. I feel lonely. I want desperately to bump into someone I know. I want to gorge. I want to drink. I want to smoke. I want to fuck. I want to run. I don't know what I want.. but it's something. and right now. I want it.

ugh! i'm so frustrated. dissatisfied. wrong.
I could leap out my skin.
I could scream out my lungs.
I feel like I need to be saved.

p.s. waking up in the early hours unable to go back to sleep is a SYMPTOM OF DEPRESSION.

4hours later: I must think of him more than he thinks of me.
perhaps.

I don't know! because, well.. he couldn't guess how often I think of him. so.. I can't.. guess...

on the surface, uh, from an alien point of view, it would seem he thinks of me. more. most of our contact is him-initiated.
but that's true of my contact with anyone!
it's just so often..

but I can't guess how often he thinks of me.
I hope it's heaps.

this isn't healthy.
I seem to have a habit for unhealthy relationships.

but this one!.. confuses me.
I have to stop thinking about it.

livejournal addendum: if you're one of the many! who could be reading this thinking it may be about you: i'll never te-ell.

I just realised how many! of you could have thought. wow. i'm in a lot of unhealthy relationships at the moment! yay! and I love you all. :D

lol I suck.