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downpour revisited

And so it begins again.

Another smoked filled night, with Sarah on the CD player, wondering what the hell is going on with my life.

And yes dear folks, those who have read my “stuffs” and emailed me, it’s all true. Every spunky inch of it, damn it. I mean, who else but MOI can have a life such as this? I mean, hell, it’s better then Melrose or 90210, but then again, I don’t wear a size 2 or have an unlimited allowance.

I don’t know why the caged bird sings.
I don’t know why I fall in love.
I don’t know why the earth is round.

Under a blackened sky, far beyond the glaring street lights, sleeping on empty dreams…the vultures lie in wait.
You lay down beside me there, you were there with me every waking hour.
So close I could feel your breath.
When all we wanted was to dream, to have and to hold these precious little things… like every generation yields the new born hope unjaded by their years.
Pressed up against the glass, I found myself wanting sympathy but to be consumed again.
Oh I know would be the death of me
FOR THERE IS A LOVE THAT IS INHERENTLY GIVEN!
A kind of blindness offered to deceive and in that light of forbidden joy
Oh I know I wouldn’t receive it.
When all we wanted was to dream, to have and to hold that precious little thing
Like every generation yields the newborn hope unjaded by their years.
You know if I leave you now, it doesn’t mean I love you any less
It’s just the state I’m in
I can’t be good to anyone else like this
When all we wanted was to dream, to have and to hold that precious little thing
Like every generation yields the newborn hope unjaded by their years…

-“Wait”, by Sarah McLachlan
Don, I don’t know.
I always thought the answer to life’s questions was “42”, BUT I DON’T KNOW!
“Oh yeah?”
Yeah.
Damn it.

Don asked me if I every read any of my stuff, (I looked into your eyes, they told me plenty) and I said “yeah, but I can’t keep reading it, its like, thinking “that chick is weird!”.(I never thought you would stray, I thought I would be with you till my dying day.)

Not weird, just, I can feel her *pain*.
(I used to think my life, was often empty)

I’m stealing lyrics, because I can’t comprehend what I want it is to say.
I have a lot to say damn it, but the words are not coming out the way that (there was a freedom).
So I just re-read (I couldn’t ever believe that you would might stray).
Circles.
The answer to life’s great mysteries are circles.

Okay, for those who don’t know, Michael dumped me. He said “See ya later toots”, kicked me to the curb, took the garbage out, “It just doesn’t feel right”. (You seemed so real to me). AFTER ALL THE BULLSHIT, ITS REFRESHING TO SEE!

Lies.
All Lies.

(Don’t tell me I, haven’t been good for you, don’t tell me I haven’t been there for you, don’t tell me that nothing is good enough.)

Yeah, well, I got smart.

Because YOU were the one who promised 12 millennium (sp?) and all that jazz, when all I wanted was no.
(I didn’t expect I would deserve so much more than this.)
Just don’t tell me why, because maybe I don’t want to know.

*sigh*.

So I read Downpour again (And I can plug my own shit thankuverymuch), and its like, you know, I can relate to that, HELL I WROTE IT!

Yeah, too much, that’s me, in a nutshell.

In the past 22 months, I have had roughly dated 15 guys, take or give a few.
And slept with about, erm, well, enough.

And its like, I preach about TRUTH, and HONESTY, and what the hell, am *I* doing preaching about this bullshit.
(Take her hand, she will lead you through the fire, and give you back hope, and hope that you won’t take to much…she held us in our arms “and it felt good”)

And sometimes, (I believe there is a distance I have wandered…ohhh holding out..holding in….I believe…this is heaven to no one else but me..and I will defend it as long as I can be left here to linger in silence…), at night, I can feel his pain. I can feel his (I’m drunk in my desire, I love the way you smile at me, the way your hands reach out…. I believe) pain…(this is heaven to no one else but me and I will defend it as long as I can be..) calling out to me, and it’s like, I can’t, I can’t, I CAN’T.

(It might not be right for you, but its right for me….I believe)

I miss him.

And times like this, when I can almost hear him (well, with the marvels of modern technology, I have his voice recorded on .wav’s “All because you wanted to hear my voice”)

(There are two of us talking in circles, and one of us wants to leave)

Cheap thrills.
But I miss him.

Are you reading this Michael? HMMMMM….(What kind of love is this that’s keep me hanging..i know to many people unhappy…). Well, good, pull up a seat, bring TheGnome and Sprite with you. Its going to be a trip worse than you have ever taken.

(Your angels speak with gilded tongues)
(Hold on, hold on to yourself, for this is going to hurt like hell.

OHH GOD THE MAN I LOVE IS LEAVING!

Am I heaven hero, am I in hell?
You will be strong tomorrow…)

Are you sleeping peaceful Michael?
Do you regret your decision?

And I remember the smile, I brought across his face, (Your love is better than ice cream, better than anything else I could try…your love is better than ice cream, everyone here knows how to cry..its a long way down…its a long way down…its along way down…to the place where we started from…mmmmhmmmm….Your love is better than chocolate, better than anything I would try..ohh love is better then chocolate, everyone here knows how to cry..its a long way down…)

And sometimes, I can’t help myself.
I should be hung.

I kissed Dan the other day, and let him hold me, because, I felt, so alone, I had lost, in a process of a few days, not only the person I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with, but also my best friend.

(And If I shed a tear, I won’t cage it, I won’t fear love. I feel a rage, I won’t deny it, I won’t fear love.)

I won’t fear love.
I won’t fear love.
I won’t fear love.
I won’t fear love.

(Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time..the night is my companion…would I spend forever here, and not be satisfied? And I would be the one to hold you down, and kiss you so hard, I would take your breath away, and after I wipe your tears away, just close your eyes dear..and through this world I’ve stumbled, so many times betrayed..)

You speak to me in riddles.
My body felt your breath.
You kept me alive.
Remember, that final night.

I could feel the weight of your skin next to me, so silky, and so smooth, and I had died, from sheer pleasure. And I remember that look on his face, and I remember the way he looked at me when we driving down the street, and I had put my hand on his thigh, and the way he blushed. I started giggling.

I remember when we met, and I could feel his heart beat so hard through his shirt.

I WON’T BE DENIED!
I WON’T BE DENIED!

And looking into his eyes, and feeling his hand against my face, and in this warped version of time, that moment, the way I see it, it’s not from my perspective, but from a third parties, as if they had stumbled upon us. And the look on his face, and the breathing, how intense, how ragged, and just feeling him for the first time, and standing up on tiptoe, to kiss his chapped lips, to feel his hands on me, and it felt so good.

Why did it have to end?
Why does one stop believing?

Why do I lie to myself and think, well, “Another one bites the dust”, and its like, I carry on, with this brave face and manner, that everything is going to be okay dokey, and its like, in some way, it’s not. Not everything is going to be okay. It bothers the hell out of me about my past, I mean, 15 (+/-) guys in the past 22 months, is a FUCKING HELLUVA LOT. And if someone else told me that, I would think “Slut. Two bit trick”.

I don’t know what love is, but if its anything like what I had with Michael.
I want it.
I crave it.

I don’t want Dan to touch me, and he gets all upset when I refuse his advances, true, we are getting along better, I am *NOT* the easiest person to get along with, but, it’s not* Michael.

God, I’m fucked up.

Don, sometimes I feel grateful for him to push me as much as he does, probing things and making me see sides that I don’t wanna see, and I am ooh so tired right now, and all I want to do is fall asleep wrapped in Michael’s arms.

I fell hard.
And I am paying the price.

In many ways this is almost hysterical. Every guy I have spurned can be thinking “Serves you right you bitch”. HA! You never had it so damn good.

My dear brother, Foosi and I were discussing about me, naturally, every night since Michael and I broke apart, and one became two. And of course, dear Matt called me. They both said the same thing. “Your too much, for these fools.” Hell, Matt is the infamous Matt from Downpour, he should know, I mean, HE DID THE EXACT SAME THING A YEAR AGO! *Sigh* Anywho, it is like, o’he of Michaelisms, is following what his predecessors did before him, and it makes me think even more.

It can’t be the shoes!

So I think and I ponder and I cry out “WHY WHY WHY!”. You know, why is it that all these guys keep telling me “Your so special, I have felt your pain, come to Butthead”, and I’m like “COOl!” and off I go?

I mean, its not like I’m out on the prowl, looking for these guys, they just fall in my lap.
And each is special in their own way.

My pattern is that I keep finding these guys, who have been hurt by something or another, and I pick them up, and I help them, and I show them “HEY! This is what love is all about.” And they get weird out on me, and leave. And I am left questioning, why.

WHY?

Foosi and I got into a *huge* fight last night, when I had started writing this. He had told me that often in the last week, he has wanted, very badly, to tell me “Forget THEM. Let THEM have their lives and let US take our lives and make them one.”

And I freaked.
I started attacking him, and saying all sorts of naughty things, I don’t know.

He’s been like the only constant thing in my life, and he emailed me last night and this morning, crying, and it was like, I didn’t give a shit, I started replying back and its like, yeah, I am the girl that cried wolf, because when someone tells me what I want to hear, I freak out and start saying that it is lies and that it is nothing more than a fucked attempt at living my life, and nothing is real and nothing is really real. And that is scaring me, because Foosi is *very* real, very *real* and he knows it and I know it to.

This whole damn thing smells to high heaven of unrequited love, you know, that “Ohh…I’ve been in love with you the whole time and it wasn’t till now..”. B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T.

I do *not* need this crap now, I mean, I just got dumped by Mr. connection, poor Dan is tearing his heart apart, and nothing ever seems real to me, not anymore.

Thanks don for the following song lyrics:

Opiate
by tool

Choices always were a problem for you.
What you need is someone strong to guide you.
Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow,
what you need is someone strong to use you..
like me,
like me.
If you want to get your soul to heaven,
trust in me .
Don’t judge or question.
You are broken now ,
but faith can heal you.
Just do everything I tell you to do.
Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow.
Let me lay my holy hand upon you.

Yeah, damn.

I need to fly. I need to pack up my shit and go. I can’t keep this up any longer, searching, always searching for the holy grail, only to be left down, its killing me, killing me considerately, killing me kindly, yeah, yeah yeah.

And it seems, that no matter how much you try, things just seem to get worse.

Today hanging out on #philosophy, we start debating about Marilyn Manson, and this guy pips up, “Mierlyn is a person”. I’m like..ummm..yep, he sure is, I went out with him. And so this person starts msging me, and I keep msging him “WHO ARE YOU?” and I know, theoretically, who he is, he is the guy who wants Michael to run to Australia with him, and Michael wanted me to go (I guess, I dunno, that was then, this is now), but I wanted to know, and its like, he kept saying things like “I know things that you don’t think I know..” and really weird stuff like that, and me, ohh miss imagination here, starts thinking, EVERYTHING and anything, and then someone else later on saying they heard that I was a “porn star” in disguise. I’m like yeah well, *smirk*, I’m *not*, but what the hell, might as well add it up to the days events right?

I mean, why is it so hard for people to stop the yelling and the screaming, the fear, the anxiety, the loneliness, the push/pull and just *be* themselves? Is that so hard to ask? Is that “so wrong”?

Yeah, I guess it is.

And so another 24 hr. rips by me, another day is done.

Thoughts.
Thoughts.
Thoughts.

Believe it or not, I actually did a spell check here, but there are some things that do not seem right, and heaven forbid that I do a grammar check, I mean, Microslut runs my life enough as it is, why should I let them have any more control?

I want it all.
I want a best friend.

I want someone I can tell my thoughts to, someone to share my dreams with, someone to be the object of my desires, someone to hold me when it rains, someone to laugh will, to giggle at, to make fun and tickle, someone I can read to when we are sleepy tired, to cook for and with, to go places with.

I want someone I can kiss in the middle of Mall of Americas.
Someone I can have and hold and think “yes…”
I want someone who will give me my freedom, but will keep me reigned in when need be.
Someone who will argue with me.
Someone who will brush my hair.
Someone who is their own person, but isn’t afraid of something, everything, anything, it.
And it seems that time keeps ticking, and I am getting older, and as I look upon my life, I do not see pain, and I do not see misery, but i see LIFE!

Glorious, glorious LIFE.
And its like, I know that I have so much to give, that its unreal, and yeah, I scare the bejesus out of them, but hell, I mean, its *not* I didn’t warn them all before hand, I mean, hell I have DownPour right?

And I have so much more.

But a part of me is screaming, its to late, its to late, it’s too late. Time to bury the dead, sing a song, find a book, and forget, forget, forget.

And that is how I keep sane.

If it were not for my words, how the hell would I remember, hmmm..how would I remember?

How can I forget? How can I forget the taste of one and the feel of another?

(And now i’m realize, i’m living like a trucker..even though I don’t have the belly…even though she followed me to California all the way, all i want to do is watch the telly)

My sympathy has now turned to malice.

And it doesn’t really matter anymore now does it?

Who where when there?

When I was a young girl, I always felt that I would meet Mr. Right (not Mr. right now) in a library, or a bookstore or a coffee shop. And I am reading or browsing, and I will see, and he will be tall, and strong, and he will come over to me, and we will just look, and just *know*.

It’s always been a school girl crush to feel that way about someone, to see, to know, and think, this *is* the one.

“As you wish”

The stuff story books are made. The once in a lifetime love.

Yeah, dreams, and fairies, and unicorns.

The loss of innocence, the return to that time when the world seemed so believable, and here I thought that I could save it all.

I mean, I guess that is my problem right?
I want to believe no matter what anyone says, and I am finding it harder and harder to do so.

No, what I am finding harder to believe is that there is *ONE* true person, because how can I have connected with so many, only to be dropped, and re connected and dropped and reconnected and dropped.