a victoria p

birdiebirdbird@gmail.com
brooklyn

08 May 2008

I Figure You All Stopped Reading Anyway

"My love for you is like a clock. I hate these lows. I love to hate these lows and I hate to love you in these lows. They actually ache within me and my chest actually hurts-- my heart gets at it like some sort of sped-up clock that knocks the wind out of me momentarily leaving me foolishly gasping for air.

Nothing can console me besides talking it out, and by talking it out I mean writing it up-- it is only a temporary consoling but I really believe that it allows me to keep on living and carrying on with my necessary day-to-day. I hate that I've become so comfortable in admitting my perpetual love for you. My gulps are large thumbing through old conversations we've had that I didn't even know had been saved on this fucking failing computer.

I'm mostly scared. I'm mostly scared that I've made you up to be someone you're not. I'm even more scared that you actually are the person I've perceived you to be and that I haven't made you up at all. And if so, how could I ever get over this? I suppose I should focus on getting through it first. I'm scared that I'll never feel this exact way again. And the cliches keep on coming, but fuck, I understand them. I'm scared that you think I'm a floozy, whore, dimwit, numbskull, half-wit, dweeb, ditz. No, dweeb is cute; not dweeb.

I swear to god I'm not (?), you just make me stupid. I attempt to cover all of this up with a multitude of mind-numbing activities-- men, movies, work, books, Justin Timberlake music videos-- none of this is prevalent in what has become a ticking clock. I'm mostly scared that you'll leave me here and the clock will still tick, in waves, like it is now. It's unbearable and overwhelming but merely writing about it is a little death. I'm mostly scared that you've already left. Tick, tick, tick. I hate all of this emotion but I'm glad I got it out and I certainly feel better now. Hell with being mysterious-- that's something I've never been good at anyway."


Aside from unrequited love, some other topics I'd like focused on would be:

How we "should" feel
How we are "imposed" to feel
How we are "expected" to feel
How we "really" feel

For instance, right now I should feel tired because I am imposed by my obligations to wake up early. I'm expected to be tired because it's 1:30AM, but really I'm not tired at all.

More abrupt example (back to unrequited love):

I should not be in love with the person I am in love with because I am imposed to have feelings for the person I am sleeping with because people would expect that if I perpetually sleep with him I must have feelings for him however I really probably don't.

However, apparently in New York everyone is looking for a release and no one's willing to pay for it because priorities and morals are vaguely drawn out. Perhaps it's not just New York, but that's all I know and it's all the rage to blame acting out of moral boundaries and codes on the city itself.

I don't really know how to come across as genuine and sincere. I feel as though I sound like a tool. I don't want to drink anymore. Really, I want nothing to do with alcohol. Tonight I am sober and I feel clean. I hate the way alcohol makes me feel, really, I do. I hate that it's always around. I hate that it's the glue for most social activities. I want a man to approach me in a deli, while I'm on line to buy a sandwich and offer to buy it for me, if that's the way it has to be done, with men buying things for women's attentions and all. It's not only cheaper than a cocktail, but we'd both be sober and it'd be daylight so he'd be able to tell in all honesty if he wanted to approach me and I'd be able to tell if I wanted to allow him to buy me a sandwich. Which, I wouldn't unless he was really witty because I hate to feel like I owe someone something. This is all based on first appearance that is, but say he sad a copy of The Catcher in the Rye hanging out of his ass-pocket-- I might let him buy me a sandwich.

Actually, the truth is I don't want anyone buying my sandwiches or cocktails or anything at all. I don't want to plainly appoint some shit-head for a summer fling and I don't want to be taken for granted. I don't want anything to do with the unenthused anymore although I'll probably keep them around just until they become enthused probably around the time right when I've begun to ask myself, "what the fuck am I doing?" and become instantly detached.

Timing is such a key component in all of this and at this time I can honestly say I want out of the city for something more simple. Like, how I've heard that people go to Venice when they're in love. You don't go to Venice to meet people, is what I've heard. I hear it's quiet. I want to go somewhere like that and be all consumed with little things, maybe like sex, maybe like love, maybe like gardening, maybe like cooking, maybe like getting back on the piano. Constant bed-head.

I'm sick of this rat-race for right now. I'm thoroughly unimpressed with how everyone's personal agendas and careers and even something as little as cutting someone physically off in a line for the subway has such great importance and offers instant rewards that are so often empty. I understand the pressure of money and success and fame and recognition but it's just so emphasized in New York (blaming it on the city, again) that I can't help but understand why people get swallowed up in it all and ejected from the gritty city.

I guess I need a vacation or a good lunch date with a good listener or a plan for the summer before I get serious again in the fall. But I swear to god, I am not going to let some random shit-head with some nice car or some nice privy, swanky, bullshit career swing on into my life and woo me away into the summertime horizon again.

I think my resolution is to be genuine and to treat people genuinely. Be honest, but not brutally. Be fair but not eager. And to talk, yes to talk, and be heard and not just to look dainty in the corner with my hands and legs crossed, dropping little hints as to what I do in my extraordinary life. All while being open and understanding to love, and not bitter. No more bitterness. I'm not bitter, I just need a time-out.


This was all probably too honest and too dreamy. And simply, I'm doubting myself for one more second and moving on.

1 comment:

Nebster said...

Wonderful. Thoughtful. Insightful. Keep thinking and keep trying to make yourself better. You sound like you on the right (subjective) track. Oh, and keep writing, of course.

 
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