introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- say anything storming all day - twenty fourth of september (oop), 2001 "there's a crack in the concrete floor and it starts at the sink. there's a bathroom at the gas station and i've locked myself in it to think."~ani difranco i've been avoiding it like i've been avoiding the bathroom toilet since late this afternoon. i keep lookin' in the bathroom but i can't make myself go in. only with this, i'm not riddled with guilt like i am with the suzie thing. with this, i'm riddled with unwary numbness and (though this disturbs me most of all) a sick sort of cat and mouse curiousity. and some other things, too. i'm a regular over-rummed fruit cake of emotion when it comes to this. but i have to admit, i've checked almost every time i've logged onto the line (and i see you have, too.) i have to admit that i want to know whats going on in your head, even though it hurts. even though i've got a million other arguments that i don't even want to bother to throw back because i just want it all to be over. even though i am doing my damnest to make like i don't care. even though a lot of things. and you know i do. care, i mean. but things are so different. there are things that obviously can't be taken back...things burned in minds forever. you've pressed a few fossils of your own into mine in these last few months...things that hurt. a lot. god, i even took your name off of the list because i didn't want to see it light up red when you decided to give it another outpour. i didn't want to read any more of the things that are pouring from inside your head to your fingertips to the screen like muddied water, shorting out the keyboard. there must be a flood in that head of yours. and there are some bad fish coming over your damn. things with teeth that are eating up every single thing you say that makes me regret my own words. you've got these jagged toothed things that rip up the shreds of feeling i have for any of this. sometimes, boy, you've got thoughts like pirhana. but i'm reading and you fucking know it and it bothers me that its so true: you know the curve of my thoughts. it bothers me that i've let someone so close. it bothers me that i can be vulnerable because its exactly what i have been trying to refuse to be. its just another one of those reasons that i haven't been able to explain before....and then there's that word: vulnerable. i didn't want to respond anymore and i thought i made that clear. but maybe i'm more like you than i'd like to admit right now because you always say you're done rehashing and done talking about it and then you relapse back to it. i didn't want to respond to the things you say anymore because it seems that every time i do, every time i feel like i can take a break from having to retort further in this war of ours i'm only met with more of your own sharpened daggers (and boy, you've always been just as good as i have at this. we have spent years practically priding ourselves on being so talented). only, you do this trick where you forget the things you threw and cry about the things that are thrown back. you take some of it so out of context. and furthermore, i feel like you want to put it all down on a bar graph or a spreadsheet or a pie chart or one of brian's professional-looking powerpoint presentations. its like all along, you've been keeping score and that really bothers me. in fact, i think that bothers me more than anything. i mean...do you honestly believe that i haven't noticed the things you do for me? do you honestly think that when i say thank you, its just empty words that go nowhere. i don't like to say empty words. these last few days, i've wanted nothing more than to buy a money order at the grocery and send it your way. and then what? then what will you say our friendship is (was?) after that? i mean...i feel like i should be adding it all up on an adding machine and subtracting the total amounts for counceling, laughter, and drugs. you had money. i had other things. we both brought different things to the table. i feel like i want to give you everything back. if thats how you see it...like chips on the table between us, i'd rather just not play at this anymore. and i don't know why you keep bringing her into this. i'm not the one that does it, its you. when i said you sounded like her, i meant in the tone of your letters...because, you're right. she did email me. and it wasn't just some explanation of what happened but instead this private little thing that i felt was supposed to intimidate me into...into what? and i don't respect her. and as of late, i don't even like her. and i've said it how many times now? its not about her. its about you and me. its about what is (was?) between us. and i don't know where the hell we go from here. i don't know how to apologize and i know eventually, one of us is going to have to say something...do something...because if we don't say anything at all, its just going to be this unfinished thing. its going to be this unraveled rope of occurances. because otherwise, there'll be skies reflected in still ponds reflecting movements across the water and you won't see them. and there will be laughter that i will miss. there will be hard times that won't be gotten through quite as easily. there will be a lot of missed oppertunities. there will be a lot of missed everything. so where? say something. say...anything. say it before there isn't anything left to say. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- .what came before. - .what happened next. a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017 |
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