smothered hope

you have that thing that was just like him, and i know you said not to compare you, but too bad. it's the same thing all over again, but i caught it quick this time. and at least you aren't the callous type who'd stoop to the lowest levels of deceit. close, but no cigar. and this time, it's not just a cigar. i was right to protect this space from you. i couldn't from him; hell, i invited him, initially. and he had the nerve to e-mail two years later, commenting that i hadn't written anything more. the difference, fucker, is that i'm gonna get my book back from you.

you have that thing, that juh nah say kwah that attracts me and sets my warning lights to "epilleptic" all at once. maybe it's the praise, maybe it's the freckles, maybe i just wanted to be lusted after. but let me tell you, bud, i am more sincere than anyone you've ever met. if you were frightened by that, it was at your own hazard. i warned you from the get-go, and you kept pursuing it.

why does everyone want to fuck me so badly? i know. because i'm so "wacky" and "crazy" and "bold" and all of these other backhanded compliments. i'm the girl you bang senseless, but would never bring home to mom. so when i stopped letting any of them fuck me, they took their pathetic balls and went home.

here is a warning to the rest of you fools: i am passionate, yes, but passionate means much more than a wild fuck. i am romantic and sympathetic and compassionate and gentle and caring and emotive and guess what, i really do care. and you know what? if you're just going to exploit my genuine curiosity for other humans and my desire to make true, real friends, then just leave right now. spare me your good side, because once you finally turn the rotten cheek to my eye, you'll blind me. and then i'll make sure to maim you in return.

twice now i've been told i leave a trail of dead behind me. i am the dead. i am the girl every friend thinks is so fucking great, and were i not taken, or were they not taken, or if a meteor hit the fucking earth, they'd date me in a second. anyone who is very comfortably and conveniently in a position not to make any kind of move on me tells me that they'd be proud to have me as their girl. the ones who actually go for me end up treating me like shit. are you really all like that? are you really all just thinking of fucking?

you're all breaking my heart. you fucking pricks, all of you. i have so much love in me, love that fulfills so much more than cock and cunt, and yet you want to hurt me. suck me dry. oh no, you say, you certainly don't want to hurt me. you just don't care if you do in the process of getting what you want.

i can give so much. you all who tell me how awful it is that i put myself down so much. you all who tell me how beautiful you think i am. you want nothing but my cunt. i have so much more than that, so much more. while my cunt is lovely, i have immeasurably more inside this shell. and you'd rather tease it, hurt it, make it cry, just for one cumshot in my lovely cunt, the cunt you won't bring home to mama.

you who would show me your best, you who would lead me to believe that you understand something essential, something beautiful - and then leave when you don't get your golden maidenhead prize - you can all just be warned right now. i dare to love people in ways that transcend the physical, and should you invoke that in me just for the sake of touching my shipwrecked body, i will turn just as heavy a wrath against you.

so, back to you in particular, mr. knowitall: be warned. i want my book back, and my pride unscathed. you can behave like a stupid, spoiled child, but i will be the one who not only gets what she deserves in the end, i will get what i want. you, my dear, will be missing out on one of the best friends you could have ever had. i'm sure you'll do fine in the getting-hot-sex department. but for a man who said he wanted to one day have a family, you'll need good luck in truly connecting with another human being. you may find one day that you'll have to take down your walls and drain your aligator moat before committing to someone that deeply. good thing i can swim. you can't take me down.

you know, despite all of this, i like you. it's that thing again, that whatever that makes me want to chip at your defenses and offer myself up. i want to protect myself by saying you're missing out (i already did, technically), but it makes me too sad. i want to be able to be a good friend to others, and i'd have liked to have done that for you. but i scared you. and i didn't spread that easily. i guess you didn't bother to see if i'd strike out again. my only consolation is that you left before you could really hurt me. i was lucky.

tomorrow i have to make a terribly difficult phone call. i have to phone him to ask for my books. i found his card when i cleaned out my wallet. i've been miserable since that moment. i am in a place right now that requires my tying up as many loose ends as possible. and this one is a thread long tattered. he can still hurt me, if he wants to. he can still affect me. this is the trouble with taming, that the tame are always vulnerable. (st-exupery, i apologize for such a cynical answer to your fox.) right now, i need to sleep.

i haven't expressed anything this personal in a while. not to anyone who listens, anyhow. here's a secret: no-one knows the entire story on me, not one. the confidants each know a little piece, a shade, a portion, but never all. why not? you ask. because if the amount i do share is enough to frighten the average person (oh yes, mr. knowitall, i called you average), imagine what it could do to someone who actually cares about me!

this is only residual; a year from now, i hope to be tying off the last of these ends before riding off into the sunset. if you thought i had a nice ass before, you wait until that day to get the best look ever - it'll be the last time you make me an object in my own eyes.

back | forth

listening: PJ Harvey, Rub It 'Til It Bleeds
reading: Le Petit Prince, encore
ingesting: water
(see entries before 20.11.05)

previously on Smothered Hope:

unreal - 20.05.08
in which our narrator kinda just babbles on a bit - 15.05.08
drank several margaritas last night. they were great. - 04.05.08
spacey - 29.04.08
i will most definitely regret posting this in public - 28.04.08