Conflicted, Afflicted

I am conflicted.

It is about a boy. 

What else is new?

I feel that I may be in grave danger of once again repeating the same mistakes I always make. I may be in danger of settling for someone, and not even knowing it.

I feel so strongly for Mika, and I want him so badly. I cannot help it, truly. My heart cannot be stopped by the fact that he is so dreadfully out of my reach.

This other boy, this new boy, is very different from Mika. For one, he likes me. I do not mean to be vain in saying so, but it is fairly obvious. I am so weak when it comes to flattery;mostly, I suppose, due to the way I was treated and seen, especially physically, for so long. This weakness sometimes tends to make me think that I have feelings for somebody, which gets me into trouble not long after starting something with that person. I lose my attraction to them just as quickly as it was born.

And then I end up hurting people.

We are similar, I suppose. We both do not do any drugs, except for moderately drinking and the occasional cig, if you count that, because we have both learned our lessons. We both love art. We went to school together for a couple years. We both like dorky sci-fi, and he is one of the few people I have met who has watched and loved Firefly and Serenity. Most importantly, we have both known loss. We have both lost friends to tragically premature death. I don't know, it means a lot to me when people know what that is like, because it is truly not the kind of thing you can just understand through any kind of explanation. 

I do not think he is as bad as people seem to think he is.

People say he is trouble.

I was a bit afraid of him at first,

but now I realize;

I am the trouble here.

I am the threat to him.

I do not like being so dangerous.

I probably seem so ridiculous and annoying and disgustingly self-important and conceited when I tell people what I am. I must seem like an open book who thinks other people care about my stupid personal shit or whatever, because I am so forthcoming with the facts that I am bipolar, and that I have experienced a lot of crazy, terrible things. I suppose they do not realize that I am trying to warn them;I am trying to protect both them and myself. A lot of people are afraid of people like me, with problems like I have. I do not want anybody to grow close to me and then find out the truth, and go running. I do not want anybody to go into a relationship (whether it be friendship or something "more"), without the knowledge of what they are getting themselves into. The pain will be worse for us all if we do not see it coming. If we, or they, rather, do not see it coming, it cannot, will not, be prevented, and everybody will hurt.

Agh.

Maybe when I go to college, I will pretend I do not have these problems.

Who knows?

Megan

She is not strong

Because of the sarcastic wit

with which she speaks.

She is not strong

because of the sea foam eyes

that are a magnet to those around her.

She is not strong because she's...

Queen bee

Singing with a power in her voice.

Contrary to popular belief,

she is not strong because

she laughs off things that remind her

of the abandonment of a father who left,

or because when she coughs into a paper towel,

Then checking it for blood,

She jokes about the fact 

that with a simple case of mono,

she may literally cough up her lungs. 

No...

She is strong

Because

When we are alone

in our dorm at night

She cries,

for fear

That she is not.

My tenth or eleventh poem so far for my long-term Writing through Literature project. I'm writing a series of portrait poems. This one's about my best friend, Megan. God, I miss that bitch.

<3

ill

I am deathly ill.

Agh, I hate being sick.

Too bad i get sick like every week.

My throat and lungs are on fire, my spine is shooting pain through my entire body, and my chest and abs are ridiculously sore from all this coughing.

I probably won't be able to go to school tomorrow.

What else is new?

All I can say now is...thank God for Halls cough drops. 

Seriously.

Poetry Drains and Fills

I wrote a lot of poetry today. I've been trying to face the parts of my past that I don't tell people about, using poetry. Today I actually made some progress. It was draining though. I talked about him for pretty much the first time ever. Yeah, I've mentioned him before. I have told my therapist just briefly, once, a couple years ago what happened. Even then, I almost vomited just saying the words. I've mentioned it to Megan. I don't think there was anybody else. Maybe. Either way, I have never once told anybody the details, the story, the things that make it disgusting and horrifying. In my poetry, I always hide the truth behind metaphors and obscurity. I have to stop, I have to try to tap into the truth I've been hiding. God, but it leaves me so dead and tired...worth it? Yes. All of it.

Found

OH DEAR LORD, I FOUND MY NOTEBOOK.

I'm so, so happy.

I finished the poem I thought I'd lost to the abyss that is my bedroom.

It was so hard not to let it go on forever.

I cut it off at almost two pages.

There's just so much to say about him.

It's one of my portrait poems, for my series.

You can't put every detail in a portrait.

You have to try to show them through a selection.

So I didn't get to talk about bagels or noodles or the peach and grape flavored bottles of champagne we finished between us

or sharing cups and plates

or rolling around on the carpet laughing

while other party-goers step over us and give us weird looks

or laughing at Chelsea Lately together, 

or him talking to his mother in Portuguese on skype

or a million other lovely things.

I want to take a nap in his redeeming features.

Today in psychology we were talking about sexual orientation. Ms. McDevitt, aka Ms. Canklebitch, mentioned this recent study that suggested that guys can't be bisexual, but girls can be. My heart sank. If that's true, then he's probably gay, and he will never love me. Not like I want him to.

Red lipstick is empowering in a way. I liked wearing it to school today. On days other than those in spirit week, I probably wouldn't dare.

Maybe I should dare more.

Hmm.

Lost Notebook

I lost my physics notebook. I wouldn't normally care much about that, but during physics last week I wrote this poem in it that I've been trying to write for weeks now, and now it's lost, my first at all decent draft of that poem. Agh. 

I went to the doctor today. The doctor had a German accent. Around the end of the appointment, my mom started jabbering away with the doctor in German, so that Alice and I couldn't tell what they were talking about. I know she was talking about my weight. I may not know German, but I could understand parts of it, and it's really annoying that she's always so concerned about my weight. The doctors say my weight is fine. In 2005, I had a BMI of 15.5, weighing in at 92 pounds, placing me in the second percentile for girls my age. I was eating under 500 calories a day, and working out for about two hours a day. I've gained twelve pounds since then, I eat a ton, and I never work out anymore. She needs to get over it, because her obsession with my weight and whatnot just makes it harder for me to not think about it. I've been doing a damn good job of that lately, and I intend to keep it that way.

I spend my minutes

Writing words

About you...

So that I'll have an excuse

to think about you.

There are only so many new thoughts

But if I write them down

They'll take longer to exhaust.

I want to think words

about you

And I wonder

If you ever want to think words

About me, too.

Me, December 2005.

Lies about Chris

Chris did that "25 random things about yourself" thing on facebook. God, some of the shit he says is so annoying. It took so much effort not to be a total bitch and call him out on it in a comment on his note. Who knows why he tagged me in it. I guess he somehow still thinks we're friends. Naive little bitch.

The first one was "I'm obsessive compulsive. And, you'll never know what about." Well, Christopher, I do know what about. You told me. Stop trying to be all mysterious and interesting or whatever, you're not.

"I smoke cigarettes. Lots of them." You didn't used to. You used to be so totally against smoking and drinking, and I actually kind of respected that, despite the fact that I do both. Way to stick to your convictions...

"I'm a freethinker. Trust me." You just want to think you're a freethinker. You're not. You think things because they go against the beat, and that's not free at all, because the beat is still controlling you.

"I used to cry a lot. Sometimes I still do." Used to, as in this summer. God, you cried so many times.

"I'm sexy." You are so not sexy. I may have thought you were cute when we were going out, but sexy? No.

"I have an ego, but for good reason." No, you are an ego, and there is no good reason for that.

"Elisabeth Zeitler is my babygirl. Seriously, I've never fallen so quickly." Oh, that's rich, Chris. You've never fallen so quickly? Do you remember when you started sobbing because you "cared about me so much" the second day we were together? Hmm, yeah, sure. 

"I don't smoke pot." It's only a matter of time, babycakes, at the rate you're going at.

"I dance when I'm drunk; I belligerently beg people to cuddle when I'm wasted." Again with the lost convictions. 

"I hate politics. Politics are void of action." ...I'm not even going to start on this one, because I will most likely explode.

"I say whatever that fuck I want." Okay, first of all, you wrote "that," instead of "the," and it's really annoying, and makes you sound like even more of a pretentious immature little idiot when you say it than already. Secondly, yeah, you generally do, because you have no regard for most other people's feelings. You just want to put off this image of not giving a shit and being all cool and independent and whatever, and it backfires, because really, you just come off looking like a total douche, which you are.

Alright, I just had to get that out.

I can't believe I dated him.

Ugh.