a victoria p


21 October 2007

tie a string to my kite and hold on tight

(the unedited lucid dream of a selfish bipolar-ite, brooklynite)

I’m wearing my big college sweatshirt, that still smells of cigarettes from my old apartment, which I allowed myself to smoke in. The only thing I’ve had to eat for two days is an entire package of individually wrapped string cheese.

I was in bed last night and couldn’t sleep, drunk and everything. I kept thinking that if you tell me you love me one more time, under your breath or in passing that I’m going to punch you in the neck. I’m actually going to punch you in the neck because I fucking hate you. Not a bone in my body respects you and I hate you, sincerely; as sincere as me not having an ounce of pity for you and your problems. This is not bitter! It's the truth! I have moved on and I am over this situation! I cannot stress that enough!

Anyway, I was in bed, and I was also thinking of the people I have known that have gotten swallowed up, like a fly, by this city. There have been quite a few of them. I was trying to read, but I couldn’t focus, and seeing my girlfriend cry in the subway station today made me choke up, only after she had left my sight, when I was headed on a train uptown and she was headed on one down. I rode the six downtown, instead of walking because it was cold. I kept catching eyes with this woman sitting across from me and you know what? It was like she had known and understood everything that I was going through at that moment, which whatever it was (because I myself, don’t even know) she really understood it. I'm unsure of what my face look liked that kept causing her to glance at me, but it was probably pale and furrowed and worried-looking.

I fucking hate that song “you’re still the one” and I am officially deleting it from my library and not trusting the shuffle feature for at least one week.

It’s really hard getting on your feet alone in this city. I don’t even know how a person like me has managed to somehow do it, although every month is a struggle. Apparently people don’t live like this in a lot of other places. I’m not sure I’m cut out to live like this anymore. I think the people that are, and I’ve met them, know exactly what they want. I have no idea what I want. I have a love/hate relationship with this city and everyday is uncertain.

I have this reoccurring dream about masturbating. It happens usually right before I wake up. Whether I wake myself up or not, I’m not sure. I’m not sure if I actually am masturbating while I’m having the dream, either. I’ll wake up, again my first thoughts usually being “what the fuck?” and choose to actually masturbate, finding myself already wet and all.

I have to shower before work in just a moment. I’m angry, I am so angry right now I can feel it building up in my brow, only relieving itself to a welt behind my eyes. I don’t know if I want to cry or scream or laugh and I hate this feeling every time it comes around. This song is breaking me down and I feel like I have nothing good to offer the world today. I miss this person I’ve never met, more than anyone I know. It’s like our meeting has been put off, over and over again. Like, we've been talking on the phone for some time now, but have yet to actually meet. The problem is, I know you're out there. I even know where you live, but I'm afraid to knock on your door because I'm unsure if you're home. I’m going crazy inside and I almost wish I hadn’t heard about you at all because now I want you in my bedroom.

I am not going to think about that anymore.

I am the most selfish person today, aren’t I? I’m sorry. Enough about me; how have you been?

What does a period look like when it's italicized? What does it feel like to kiss, up against a cement building in a parking lot at nearly sunrise? What is that fucking howling noise?!!??!

You’re still the one to scratch my itch? WHAT THE FUCK?! What the fuck! What fucking itch!

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