alecto - your little bluejay (pollytrance) wrote,
alecto - your little bluejay

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She Said, "Come With Me Darling"

Mike called me this evening as I was a flurry of tears. I was hysterically mourning the death of Shel Silverstein, and I still can't see straight, so any spelling errors must be either forgiven or forgotten.

I tried to tell Mike about a person I had met recently. Mike asked me if he was "the one with the Abercrombie face" and I was shocked. I remembered thinking that, but I didn't remember telling Mike about him, nor did I remember sharing that description. It was my personal giggle, but Mike knows everything, and would not get off the phone with me until I was ok. He also let me ramble about Eminem and the Abercrombie face. It is not a wonder that I was in love with him for as long as I was.

The goon did the same for me. He knows that I know that I'm crying for no reason, and he also knows that I'm crying for no reason, and yet he sticks around long enough to get me to laugh, just because any of my pain, no matter how unimportant, hurts him as well.

I am lucky. Most people in the world get so very lonely, because they know that deep down they have no one. But I have people. And when I alienate myself, don't pick up my phone, don't check my messages, am bad with e-mail correspondence, block almost everyone on IM's (if you've talked to me on IM's in the past two months, consider yourself very special), don't write letters, don't send packages, never go outside, it is easy to forget about those people.

Trying to live a healthy existence and actually living one are two different things. I know that I am completely insane, but it instills in me a sense of content accomplishment when my neuroses can make people smile.

I won't take medication, but I drink.
I go to strangers' houses for whole weekends, but I won't ride in cars that aren't insured.

I am a complete Gemini when it comes to my life. I know what I should be doing, and I try about half as much. It's a high school brainwash. I never had to try in my life for the things I wanted. There was no grey area. I could have it, or I couldn't. Working for things is a completely foreign concept.

So excuse the fuck out of me for not understanding why anything over putting 45% of myself into something comes out wrong, or not at all. 110% is a lot when all you're used to giving is between 0-45%.

I don't even think I'm coherent, but will I stop? I think not!

I just opened my Nutella. It's such a warm, comforting smell! It reminds me of the hazy days in Germany where we'd wake up to something different each day, and everything was clean, innocent and fun. I know that it, as a place, wasn't actually like that, but any situation can be wonderful or horrid depending on the company.

Come get some of this glowing.

And as I told Rae, you can do anything you want as long as you smoke Capris and are important. Wouldn't the tobacco companies love me for this free advertising? I must admit it's one hell of a slogan.

Brought to you by drifting in and out of consciousness, and lots of painkillers.

Love me.

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