My heart has gone all sorts of cold. I glance at each passing man in case I like his jaw line and his eyes enough to spend a few hours in his bed. I dream heightened tense sex scenes that never seem to end. I ache and think and plan. If my heart was less cold. I want unreal snatched moments of surreality blasting wildness.
I have had no cigarettes for three days now and I have found myself justifying arguments through feminism and politics and my particular stubborn honesty. I put whiskey on the salmon flesh because I'm not drinking it, am I? I haven't danced in a while. Everyone is annoying me for their lack of compassion for others yet I am not a forgiving person and am showing apathy for them. I cannot start these regime-toppling-world-changing-hell-I-am-but-twenty-and-a-bit-years heart-ridden campaigns without turning a warm touch to those around me. But I won't. I am sick of everything and cannot see through the fog. I can only guess what is on the other side. And I can only guess that I will react the same as always. Maybe I am more like her and him and others then I ever knew. I am being petulant but I feel justified. I do not want to be the bigger person. Why do I have to be if they won't? I am being petulant. My heart s cold.
I never want to go back to those dark days when my heart howled and my head raged and my mornings were slept out in darkness and my nights were lit by bitter, yellow lightbulbs and silence. I will never go back but it still whispers. It has somehow become a silky smooth run against my skin. It has not lost its romantic touch. But I cannot live through it so I close myself off. I live on surfaces now. There is an ocean underneath where those demons are thrashing and beating but I have tamed them so well. Not even sure if they ever existed. Won't turn my back for too long. But maybe they didn't. I am closed off and petulant and my heart is cold.
There isn't even a you anymore, no one to direct this wordformedrant of narcissism towards. An intense and dreary period. I will sit back and wait for it to pass.
Created: Jul 02, 2010Document Media