a.funnytimeofyear.com

I’m totally existing through lyrics and music at the moment. Everyone should get The Sweet Vandal’s version of the song Beautiful. In fact their whole album is simply amazing…

I always think to myself
if our love was so beautiful;
please remember all those happy days
weren’t we were lovers
weren’t we the best friends
we didn’t understand each other
when we both needed help
whenever I think of you
oh baby
I just feel
I just feel that I wanna start crying
oh babe
don’t want this kind of feeling to remain
don’t want to believe
don’t want to believe our love was just wasting time
if I
I belong to you baby
and a you
and a you belong to me
if I was good to you
honey yeh
and you
and you were good to to me baby
tell me please
I just an understanding
If I just made love to you honey
and you made love to me
love to me
oh darling
if I took care of you for so long
and you took care of me
tell of me baby baby
why our love’s been so difficult
our love’s been so difficult
please remember all those happy days baby
weren’t we were the best lovers
weren’t we the best friends
we didn’t understand each other
when we both needed help
but I love you
and I always will
you know that I love you
oh baby
it’s so hard to see that we couldn’t live together sometimes
it’s so hard to see (that) you don’t want me in your arms sometimes
but baby
we gotta lead our separate lives when our love has gone
oh baby baby
honey

These lyrics have been stuck in my head all day. To Providence, by Ani DiFranco. Obviously a reflection of my thoughts…

who knew
at this party that I
would walk in and I’d see you.
I guess now
we could just get drunk
yeah, that could be our excuse
you could slip
from out of nowhere
i could be there to catch your fall
we could laugh
at ourselves
and the writing that’s on the wall

it’s a narrow margin
just room enough for regret
in the inch and a half between
hey, how ya been?
and
can I kiss you yet?
so we talk, like
nervous neighbors over a tall fence
true love, but for the lack of providence

but I just got one more
thing to tell you

‘cuz words are vitamins
and life is short
and I know when we get up
to the front office
We’re gonna have to fill out
a full report
and the first question will be
what were you thinking?
and the next question will be
what did you say?
then they’re gonna check to see
if the answers to one and two
matched up much
along the way

in the interest of poetry
and the cowboy movie
that’s you and me
I’m back on the horse now
and I am riding
I am striding so effortlessly
what I mean is
it’s late
much to late for us
and I’m fixing to go home
with just my conscious
and a bitter sense of irony
as my chaperone

true love, but for the lack of providence.

For the second time in two weeks my mother comes to collect me, to rescue me. Of course the only person she is rescuing me from is myself. Except this time there is broken glass covering my bedroom floor, blood smeared on the walls and my bedding is soaked in crimson stains. I spend Monday evening vomitting profusely. My fever is so high that I cannot sleep without sweating in the cold. I order chinese food that I cannot eat, and drink water that I cannot keep down. After six hours of vomitting there is nothing left but brown sludge and clumps of blood that scatter across the toilet bowl. I run the shower for over an hour before I can bring myself to get into it, and even then I do nothing but sit on the cold porcelain and cry. I become obsessed with the idea of cutting open the veins on my wrists but cannot find my scalpels. I sit in the wet, picking and scratching at my scars until they turn a deep red, the closest I can find to a sense of relief. Before long the water has run cold and I find myself shivering, rocking, with the ice water battering my body.

My mother arrives within two hours. She waits patiently outside the house as I return from a walk. I walk slowly, confused, staring up at the sky before down at my feet. It takes me twice the time to get home than usual, and I remember little about the journey. Before I can even get to the front door the tears come, thick and fast, and in my feverish state it’s not long before my face is covered in a mixture of sweat and tears. The salt is bitter on my lips, disgusting. We gather my belongings, including my wet washing that I have not managed to dry in five days, and bundle me into the car. I cry for twenty minutes straight, my eyes already a puffy shade of red, before passing out with exhaustion in the car. When I catch glimpses of people in the street I see a reflection of my own sorry state, a confusion in their eyes. I lower the seat, hiding deep in the bowels of the backseat.

Again I am in the princess bed. Restless, feverish, I beg the dog not to leave me. I’m so lonely that I hold his tiny body close and wish he’d stay here all night. I try to imagine the books on the book shelf, but there is nothing but the pure white of an empty ceiling. At night I dream of being alone in the middle of the ocean, and I am utterly terrified of the sea. I dream of sea creatures that begin to eat away at my body, the blood turning the clear blue sea a dirty shade of red. I think of the depths of the sea, the fear of the utter unknown, and wake up with a shock. My mother brings me a sleeping pill but I cannot stop shivering, shaking, my eyes blurry with the fear of falling back to sleep.

I badger him non-stop with e-mails and text messages. We do not talk on the telephone – another fear of mine. I text him before I go to bed, when I awake in the middle of the night. I text him when I should be showering, when I am sitting here alone. He does not reply. It is as if I am sending messages into the ether, into the universe that will never be read. I convince myself that this is it, that we are nothing, that I am nothing. I am convinced that we shall never see each other again.

Me. The girls. The Gays. The parade.. Me rollerskating! Silver paint! Dancing, drinking, smiling! Time to forget about certain things and let the fun roll on.

SMILE.