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a violent black hole of an imagination |
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| Written by Diana, on 19-06-2002 23:00 |
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My perfectionist qualities are getting out of hand. There's no one here to be my buffer. It's like 80 degrees outside and I'm wearing a sweatshirt to hide any imperfections I might possess. My hair's getting that ridiculously long where if I sit down and NOT lean back I have to constantly pull my hair out of the way. I think I have enough people telling me not to cut it to be convinced it's not TOO long so I'll keep it for a while. Deep down I do love it though. Shorty man asked who was sitting next to me and when I said who, he retreated to the other side of the room. Poor little ill tempered man. "Why didn't you call me, we were supposed to go out remember?" "Well, I don't have your number...how can I call you if I don't have your number?" yada yada. Suddenly the topic of the room's conversation is my horse and college and annoyingly my car. Ana girl's asking me 20 questions. What a way to ruin an already bad day. Claudia just weighed me. Damn her *grumble grumble* While compulsively pacing, shorty man asked if he gave me his number would I call him. I finally tired of trying to convince him I would and offered that he call me. Seemed adequately satisfying for him...I guess. That bumps the number up to five tries on his part to ask me out. Persistent little runt. I walk in and his phone numbers and address have magically appeared on my chair, so mine magically appeared in his hand...after I asked him for paper and took my sweet time writing it out that is.
Today's feeling like one of those days where it would be really beneficial if I could numb myself of all feeling. Where if I could starve myself invincible I wouldn't hesitate. I talked in the processing group this morning, technically. I told them there were things I couldn't say but how hurt I was feeling in retrospect. I conveyed to them my fear of looking foolish and this one nice, clean cut guy told me you don't get into Occidental by being dumb, in his dry sort of humor, everyone agreed. I felt sheepish and found solace in examining my shoe laces. After group I was assured that I wasn't burdening everyone with my little voice by the facilitator and a couple members. But now I sit alone within a blanket of trees masking my silent breath by rustling in a soft breeze. They enjoy my company and sit with me void of complaint. Suddenly I don't feel adequately present for the company of others. Surely the seldom passers by are annoyed by my silent existence in this big chaotic world. Oh how simple their lives would be were I not part of a fraction of a millisecond of their boring, eventless day. My muted expressionless face jams a knife in their side, a thorn prick on the rose of their beautiful day. Why must they be burdened with my presence? Losing every bit of their essence to my violent black hole of an imagination.
So much violence withheld, overflowing from a bottomless well I cannot hold much more. However long it takes to spill it seems like no reprieve. Help me please, remove the hate I hide so deep inside. Using all my strength not to cry. Finally I can think but I can't follow the world around. Stupid people get me down. They think I want their prying minds provoking me to fake my pride. Causing me to hide my crying eyes. Get away with those rainbow tainted eyes that never lie. Friendly words taunt my hateful prose. No one knows how deep the hole really goes. Fall in line aching heart of mine.
Last update: 19-06-2002 23:00
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