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Nicole!
12 July 2009 @ 10:37 am
well if i was in your position, i'd put down all my ammunition

quite frankly, i couldn't be an enigma even if i tried. there isn't much to unravel or sift through in a shallow pool. i'm right here. like i've always been. your rock. your solid, dependable rock. i miss you (and what i was around you), but i think you know what's best. we'll stumble clumsily past our pregnant, swollen silences and look past our shoulders at the mess we've left in our wake and i can only hope we'll both be able to laugh as they did later on.

don't for a second even begin to assume you've got me down pat, because you'd just be proving me right about how utterly misled and wrong you can be. slippery, hollow words, no matter how comforting, don't mean a thing to me; not anymore. you were the one who taught me this, and don't you dare forget it. i was beginning to forget how utterly narcissistic you could be.

as always, though, i'm hoping for too much.

 
 
Current Music: jack johnson - sitting, waiting, wishing
 
 
Nicole!
09 July 2009 @ 11:42 pm
it makes you so vulnerable. it opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. you build up these defenses. you build up this armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…you give them a piece of you. they don’t ask for it. they do something like kiss you, or smile at you, and your life isn’t your own anymore. love takes hostages. it gets inside you. it eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple ‘maybe we should just be friends’ or ‘how perceptive’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. it hurts. not just in the imagination. not just in the mind. it’s a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-of-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. nothing should be able to do that. especially not love.

the sandman: the kindly ones by neil gaiman
 
 
Nicole!
01 July 2009 @ 11:37 pm


maybe i'm just l o n e l y


don't waste your time on me.


i'm starting to scare myself with my own thoughts. do you know how it feels like to think so much it hurts? today, in a nutshell: too fucking late. my life, in a nutshell. would you believe me if i told you i tried? i couldn't focus on what was in front of me, i couldn't keep track of how time lapsed. my mind wandered incessantly. glimpses of images anyone would normally strive to hush or conceal, but i took it all in stride today. because i am past sad now, and when you are past sad, you begin to view things with alarming clarity. you'd have left self-pity to rot and fester somewhere in your chest a long time ago, and your head would finally have cleared from that self-imposed fog you used to block out the pain. you begin to savagely uproot weeds of another kind to examine and scrutinise the pathetic remnants of... you. i tried, and i still couldn't find myself today. of course, this could always be self-perceived. there's the obligatory disclaimer you asked for. did your parents never teach you pointing was rude? today... was a turning point of sorts. it finally dawned on me what this nagging, pervasive feeling gnawing at me the whole time was. i still don't know how to deal with it. prod it gingerly with a stick, douse it with cold water, beat it to death? useless. it is wide open. it is gaping. it won't leave me.

enough of the pills already.
 
 
 
 

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