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This is fucked up and I don't know why I wrote it.

Your heart skipped a beat when we,
first connected at the hips.
But I'll only love you skin deep,
then throw your husk on a pyre made of regrets.

This is a text message I just sent a friend.

"I know it hurts, that it's hard on both of you. But don't let them poison the love you share. I'm a goddamn woman."

I swear to God, this one's positive.

Did you ever have one of those days?

You know the kind I'm talking about. It hits you before you even open your eyes..."This day's gonna suck". And that's the attitude you carry with you all day long. Everything just goes wrong and makes you want to curl up and cry. But you still try your hardest. It's not the best game face you could have, but at least you're making an effort. Eventually, you go from trying to be at least somewhat productive to just riding out the clock. You go past the point of being upset to just siting in bemused acceptance, eager to see just what could happen next.

Anyway, that's the kind of day I had today. By the end of it, I was so stressed I was calm. If you've ever experienced this, you know how unsettling it is. I got a jump for my car (Oh, yeah, my battery died while I was going to get lunch for management), put on one of my favorite shamelessly emo bands and sang my heart out all the way home. It helped.

When I arrived at my apartment, I was finally able to sit down and breathe. I decided not to let my previous negativity make the day be a complete waste by getting something positive done tonight. I re-read what I had written the night before. Then, I read it aloud and it sounded good. Unfortunately, I didn't have the mic with me. I started going through all my options and decided to try recording it through my MP3 player. I knew the quality would be awful, but at least I'd be able to listen to it immediately.

So, I hit recorded and laid it down. It felt amazing. I've listened to it 20 times. (that's how I rehearse) It's terribly raw, what with the stumbling of some words and the mic distorting my vocals when I get too into it, but it shows a lot of potential. I'm getting somewhere with this.

I started looking back at all the events of the day. I saw something I didn't see before when I was too wrapped up in myself, all the kind gestures from those I work with. I am so grateful to all the people who put up with me today. I also realized something vital...

An attitude can really fuck up your day.


I can't keep going on like this. It has to stop. I guess it's time to finally let it all go. I go into the bathroom and strip down, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor. I step into the bathtub and close the curtain behind me. This is going to get messy.

I sit down in the tub, clutching my knees to my chest. With my eyes closed I focus hard on everything that's been building up inside me. From the cruelty of the schoolyard, the reciprocated disappointment between my family and I, the laughter, love, broken hearts and repressed memories; I remember it all. I let each feeling pass through me. Then, I start to push. It starts out like always, with the tremors coursing through by body, then the tears.

But this time, it's different.

I can feel a trail burning from my eyes all the way down my cheeks. The tears sizzle when they meet flesh and porcelain. I look down and see a puddle forming in the tub, it's black and thick like oil. It's a start.

I zero in on the memories and push harder. The inky fluids trickle from every pore and scorch my skin before congealing in the tub. Take it all, leave nothing behind. I don't want it anymore.

Goddamn, this really hurts.

I can feel a knot starting to swell behind my ribcage. The pressure reaches its crescendo as the sharp, deafening crack of my sternum reverberates off the porcelain around me. All I can do is gasp as my chest explodes outwards, smearing black and red all over the the walls. I had always wondered what a soul looked like. It's gross.

I reach a hand into the gaping hole that was once my torso. It doesn't hurt anymore...I've nothing left to feel.

I now have a couple of options. I could choose to fill the breach with new, positive feelings until that's all I have to focus on. But I'm going to go the safer route. I seal the hole with bricks and mortar, so nothing else will ever be allowed in again.

There, I feel better already.


Tonight I came home and finally beat Mass Effect Two. I cooked myself dinner in my own kitchen. I did a little recording in my living room. Right now, I'm crashed out on the couch watching MST3K. There's no one else around and I can do whatever I want. So, yeah. Pretty good Friday night.

The first Scattered Thoughts MP3

I've just recorded a performance of "Wake Up Call". If you want the free MP3, just let me know.


Brothers and sisters hold me up high,
For tomorrow,
I fall.


She once told me she didn't think anyone really knew who I was, at least not the true me. This was during one of my episodes where she was trying so desperately to understand, but wasn't listening. I'm starting to think she's right. But how much of this is due to my holding back and how much to people never fully listening to what it is I have to say?

People only hear what they want to. I can't tell you how many times I've told someone something,only to have to repeat it again 30 seconds later. It makes me wonder if they're only half listening, or maybe I'm just that bad at communicating with others. It's frustrating.

What's worse, is when people talk to me...I actually listen. I can tell you just about everything there is to know about the people in my life. Now, how many people could truly say the same about me and get it right? Kind of makes me feel like I'm all alone, even when I'm surrounded by those that are supposed to know me best.


I dreamt about her again last night.

It used to bother me, but it doesn't anymore. The only thing I remember about it was taking her into my arms and the sound of her voice as our eyes met. I liked the dream, but that's only because it wasn't real.

See, when I dream about her, I dream about the person I thought she was or wanted her to be. The reality of her is always much more disappointing.

In the dream, her embrace was warm, inviting, not cold and empty like it was all the times we physically held each other. Her voice was soothing and it filled me with a feeling her lackadaisical one could never conjure in the waking world. I could stare into her counterfeit's eyes forever, never even scratching the surface of the secrets hidden deep within. On this plane, however, they were simply hollow.

I've come to grips with the fact that I have to see her every day. The thing is, though, since it's impossible to forget her, I've decided I want to remember her how I always liked her best; the way she is when she comes to me in my dreams.