[Nov 2, 2012]
I was going to take off the horrid red nail polish I had chosen to wear 2 days ago, made even more garish by the middle fingers painted black. But I’m not going to anymore. It’s the perfect shade of fugly to take me into the day – my birthday that is, the day before Guy Fawkes day.
I left early because I couldn’t bear the uneasiness that enveloped me like a halo. So I walked and walked and walked – about 6 km – until I hurt too much – my torso, not my legs, strange enough.
On the way, distracted and depressed, I almost walked into a train and barely escaped with life and limb, but walking away with unfeigned nonchalance. [yeah i almost died; so what!]
I don’t like my birthdays, they are never cheery affairs. They are like new year’s eve, whence you assess the year past, and my last one has been spectacularly fucked up. Not to mention not even my mother remembers it, never mind anyone else.
It reminds me this time that the only person I can talk to at least about some things, I only see depicted upon a computer screen.
I am so afraid of being unacknowledged that I genuinely do hope that at least my psychopathic stalker would remember and send me a creepy card with my name written in glitter; so I can count at least one entity that did remember.
I am indeed nobody’s princess.
***
[Nov 3, 2012]
It’s 22 hours left for that darned 4th, and I have already cried a year’s worth of tears in a few hours alone.
It’s 22 hours to the day I had given myself as the deadline, but I am now forced to acknowledge what I knew very well even then, that I will continue to wait rather than break, always the pathetic fool up for being taken for a ride.
I have no one and nothing; I must start from scratch and alone, if at all.
I am old, older than my years, and cranky.
I have no cigarettes; I must wait for dawn.
I am afraid of being so very alone, even as I am, even as I have always been. One would think 27 years on, one would be used to it by now. But nay, I go on and on, hoping for some kind of love, that which I never had. Dreaming, dreaming, of being loved, and cherished and being content.
Our dreams are as good as it gets