This is my Blogproject. Sit down, stay awhile. Feed the fish, and read some art.
If you like what you see or have any questions or critiques, please let me know.
Yours, Truly.

Friday, September 17, 2010

To Obnoxious Drunk People

I. Loathe. You.

Even when I too am drunk, I make a conscious effort NOT to violate the privacy and courtesy of others. If I *had* to be sick in an inopportune place, I would CLEAN IT THE FUCK UP.

Nothing excuses such behaviour as I have witnessed you execute. I don't care if you are also in possession of a Hot Accent, it does nothing for me when you stink of vodka and won't get out of my kitchen.

I would go out more and have fun more, and dance more and live more, if so many things weren't tainted by your noxious presence.

All I ask is that you learn your limit, and stop drinking more than you can handle. Just stay in your own space and out of mine, keep it the fuck down...

...And don't you *EVER* puke in my sink again.

You think you've seen me angry? Think again.

Yours, Truly.

PS. You smell like baby hobos, why you think that is going to make you attractive is beyond me.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Hot Accents

Sooo hi... I'm writing because I'm embarrassed to speak in front of you.

You're all smoky and rounded and I feel like I'm all thumbs... I mean... all consonants. I like to just close my eyes and listen to you purr. I think "take me! teach me!" but that doesn't help...

I realize that I'm objectifying you... maybe that makes me a bad person... or just a bad feminist, I don't know. All I know is, I could sit enthralled while you told me about your fascination with snails for hours. (Maybe not snails... but something else generally considered quite boring.)

Lately I've been walking into you--clouds of you-- on a regular basis. I really can't complain, I thoroughly enjoy the change in tone. So move over Mister Darcy and let me sit by you and yours.

Let me be silent while I bask in the memories of far-off places I loved so dearly and wish to see again...
Let me cup my ear to your throat to hear the ocean standing between us...
Let me watch as lips sculpt your features...
Let me breathe you in and taste your wonders...

Let me know that accents aren't everything...
But that you still want to taste mine. (I'll let you...)

Yours, Truly.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

I'm not telling and you won't guess correctly

I need to stop.

I've written you a letter before this, though I never sent it, never showed anyone. And I was proud of that letter-- the writing, the sentiment... But I guess it's not true anymore, so you will never see those words.

I am stumbling my way down a slight incline.

I dream about you sometimes, and usually I wake up forgetting that I'm not allowed to be happy. Not with you. And when it hits me, it hits low. It takes the wind right out of me. Sometimes I cry, and sometimes I am too sad for tears.

Are you waiting to catch me... or watching me fall?

One thing that bugs me... I don't even know if I ever had a chance, or if my fate was decided from the beginning. Was it something I did? Is my life now just some twisted punishment? What is it, I don't deserve you?

I've been here before, and I just keep coming back.

It's been hard to change the way I think, my reflexive reactions. I forget sometimes that you are gone. Some days I act like you're still here until something snaps and I'm in pain. "Oh yeah," I think, "it's like that now."

Do you know how easy life would be if I could stay away?

I am trying. Trying to live differently. I don't want to live like you don't exist, and I can't physically live like you are a part of my life. So I am left with living like I don't need you. I don't need you. But I'm still learning that. I'm new to this.

I might actually be more happy without hope... Do other people understand that?

I hope everyone feels lucky today, lucky to have you.
Because they will never understand me, not until you are gone from them too.
It's sad, but it is the truth.

Let's leave the light-switch, and keep them in the dark.

Not Yours... Truly.