Daisy Danger

www.queensofvintage.com/how-to-survive-when-your-new-boyfriends-not-vintage/4 

"2. Secondhand osmosis
Drag him around Beyond Retro, Blackout II and the Liberty vintage department on the pretext of buying yourself tarty pants. Do this for a few weeks until he gets used to the scent of pre-loved nylon and the atmosphere of riotous every woman for herself bargain-huntery. When you start to notice him toe-tapping to jazz standards while idly flipping through a tie montage it’s time to strike. Simply fling monocles and tasselled brogues at him while seductively cooing compliments. If he agrees to be winched into your chosen retro boy outfit, immediately give him a blowjob"

hahahaha!

I think you only said what you said, because you want to sleep with someone else. But I'll ignore the nagging voice inside my head and try and trust you.

"I won't regret saying this thing, that I'm saying. Is it better than keeping my mouth shut? That goes without saying. Call, break it off. Call, break my own heart. Maybe I would have been something you'd be good at. Maybe you would have been something I'd be good at, but now we'll never know. I won't be sad, but in case, I'll go there everyday to make myself feel bad. There's a chance I'll start to wonder if this was the thing to do. I won't be out long but I still think it better if you take your time coming over here. I think that's for the best."

When I was about 11, I was at the Tushkahoma labor day festival, and there was an elephant there doing tricks and such. I stood there with the rest of the crowd laughing and oohing and ahhing at the spectacle until it hit me that was this animals poor life. Immediately tears tried to well in my eyes, but I was too calloused to actually cry then. I just swallowed the lump in my throat and was about to walk away, knowing I could do nothing about this. Then the trainer told a short story about how much the elephant ate, and how much it cost to feed it. Then, she asked that everyone donate one dollar for an apple and the elephant would come and take the apple from your hand and eat it. I quickly rummaged through my pockets and found that I had $45 left of the money I'd been saving for months for this festival. I wanted to give them the money, but I didn't want to feed the thing. It was big and scary--and it wasn't supposed to be tame. I stood there for a second holding the money in my hand and looking at the elephant, the trainer was walking towards me and I knew she was about to try and give me an apple to feed it. I quickly looked around and saw a boy that was about 8 standing there looking sad--he wanted to feed the beastly thing. I quickly shoved the $45 in his hand and told him, "Give all of this to them. Feed him as many apples as this will buy." I took one last look at the elephant and the trainer, that was now looking at me with a confused expression on her face, and ran as fast as I could until I was safely hidden in a huge crowd of people that I didn't know.   I sat at a bench and wondered if I'd done the right thing. Later, when my mother asked me where the money went--she made me go back and tell the trainer what I'd done. She acted as if I'd stolen something. Like I'd done something bad. I walked slowly to the trainer's tent and waited for her to emerge. When she did I told her that I didn't like that elephant--at all. It was scary and I thought it was mean of her to keep him and make him do stupid tricks to amuse stupid people it was belittling to the animal. I didn't like that elephant at all, it wasn't normal for it to be here. But, I didn't want that elephant to go hungry if I could possibly help it. So, I told her that I'd got all of my money and given it to the little boy next to me and ran because I was too afraid of the elephant to try and talk to her about taking the money without giving me apples. She listened to my story with a very blank expression on her face, as my mom stood in a distance watching the whole thing. Then her expression changed...I wasn't sure what it was then, but tears were welling in her eyes and she told me "Thank you. You're an amazing girl. Thank you so much," and she hugged me.  I walked away not understanding what had just happened and asked my mom why I had to tell her, and she never answered me.

It's strange. I always felt like I'd done something wrong in that situation, now thinking about it--I was a really charitable little girl. I have a lot of stories like this one...maybe I'll share more of them some other time.

1. Go to your playlist.
2. Get it on random and press play.
3. Move forward song by song, and use the songs as the answers.
4. Don't cheat!

How am I feeling today?
Porcelain - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Will I get far in life?
Walking with a Ghost - Tegan and Sara

How do my friends see me?
Oyster - Jawbreaker

Where will I get married?
All Hell Breaks Loose - The Misfits

What is my best friend's theme song?
Eight O'clock & a Bottle of Rum - Old Nasty Band

What is the story of my life?
Headshot - Mr. Monster

What is/was high school like?
Cheated Hearts - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

How can I get ahead in life?
Echo - Incubus

What is the best thing about me?
Ghoul's Night Out - The Misfits

How is today going to be?
Sluttering (May 4th) - Jawbreaker

What is in store for this weekend?
Big Legged Woman - Jerry Lee Lewis

What song describes my parents?
Sing - Dope

How is my life going?
Nothing's Left - ICP

What song will they play at my funeral?
Brain Eaters - The Misfits

How does the world see me?
Jet Black - Jawbreaker

Will I have a happy life?
Easier - Dope

What do my friend really think of me?
Lips of an Angel - Hinder

Do people secretly lust after me?
Untitled Song(Gift) - Mr. Monster

How can I make myself happy?
Serenity - Old Nasty Band

What should I do with my life?
Horror Business - The Misfits

Will I ever have children?
Chemistry - Jawbreaker

What is some good advice for me?
Cold - Crossfade

How will I be remembered?
Forever - Papa Roach

What do I think my current theme song is?
Underjoyed - Jack Off Jill

What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
Spine for You - Dope

What type of men/women do you like?
Star No Star - Jack off Jill


some of those are entirely too nonsensical...some area almost ironic.

I feel like I'm coming to pieces...like my seams are splitting. I'm not sure what's wrong exactly, other than everything.  Nothing's the way I hoped it'd be and I know that means nothing but something has to mean something.

I'm so sorry that I hurt you, that's one thing that I can never forgive myself for, because you won't forgive me. I still check your livejournal sometimes, knowing it's now friends only and I won't even be able to see how you've been doing.  I think you're the worst habit I have.

I can't stand the way single mom/daughter relationships are portrayed on television--best example, The Gilmore Girls. They don't show the part where Loralie holds Rory for two hours quietly crying while a 4 year old Rory cries intensely that she wants everyone in the world other than Loralie. They don't show Loralie's eyes, shattered and hollow like a broken glass, looking down at the beautiful little angel she helped create and realizing that she'll never be enough for her. No matter how hard she tries, no matter how good of a job she does...it will never be good enough.

Don't act like I'm some kind of radical
because of the tattoos on my arms.
Yes, they're bold political statements
they're also the product of a lot of resentment.
You have no right to judge my mentality
when you know absolutely nothing about me,
or it, or anything really.  Because it isn't easy
to get to know me, and you'd rather not take
the time it takes to really know someone.
When you help my arm for ten minutes
sizing up each scar, mark and brand I
could hear the thoughts inside your head
wondering if you could really ever have me
anywhere other than in bed. 
I answered you, before I realized you hadn't said it yet.
And you just stared at me.
I wouldn't be anything like you hope.

"When the walls are coming down, and everything's crashing all around me--I just smile. I just smile. You pat me on the head--I'll pat you on the head. You don't like the way I live my life--I just smile. In the end all that's going to matter is who smiled the most--I have a full house--what are you holding?" I'm holding absolutely nothing. I don't even have a pair. Fucking bankrupt. One person, out of the tons I know, smiles. Genuinely smiles. One person understands that the silly, mundane, bullshit everyday tragedy means absolutely nothing in the sum of things. How disheartening. A rich boy that chooses to live poor. "I don't need those things, that shit means nothing--I don't even own a television or a radio." A twenty three year old that was given everything and walked away from it, because he saw the pointlessness in all of it. One person, out of the tons that I know, that doesn't merit bullshit possessions, titles, careers, what have you--as success. Tragic. He's undoubtedly seen as a failure by everyone around him--but he knows the rewards of a hard days work. Back breaking, hands bleeding work. No pushing paper, or crunching numbers--honest labor. Out of most everyone I know, I think he's the only one I'd ever consider successful. I'm completely disheartened by the damned apathy I see infesting everything around me. Apathetic drones living mund numbing existances that never seem to quite measure up to all it's supposed to be--the fucking American dream is just that: A fucking dream. Nothing's ever enough--you could work your entire life and never have enough. I don't need that shit. I've seen the best minds, hearts, spirits of my generation slip through the cracks, lose all ambition--whatever hope they held drained from the bone. Failures, falling victim to mindless drugs, prescribed by someone in a position to judge sanity, that mean nothing but merit everything--failures. Living their lives day by day, hating it in every possible way. Not speaking, just keeping to themselves--completely isolated from everyone else. Tired of the trying, lying--the dying. Death's so unpleasant to see, let's just keep it a secret and pretend it never happened, and that it won't happen to me. Swimming in a chemical cocktail made specifically for the unclean to keep them quiet and unseen--just be my little zombie, my patsy, my fiend. Let's push it a little further and drug the entire youth--it will mend them all in the end. And the youth is happy--they're compliant and the apathy is running rampant and that's just what we wanted. Let's keep them from thinking, completely, that way we can think for them. And the media's in a frenzy and the magazines agree with all the tvs and the tvs agree with all the radios and it's all exactly the same where ever it is you decide to go. Let's spend enough money to feed one of those starving countries we saw on tv, on a pair of sunglasses or jeans--because what do those people matter to me? They're behind in industrialization and technology and can't do anything for me. The savages just run around pissing on trees, marking territory as if anyone else would want it. So, I'll just eat my steak and if you're lucky--I'll throw you the bone and we'll just pretend that I'm not living in a seven hundred and fifty thousand dollar home. We're equal, you see? I share with you, and you share with me. Spread your legs a little wider, take it a little deeper--fuck our past--let's look to the future! Progress is made so fast, you don't want to be the last in line for the latest phone, game, or computer! And we all forget about the starving children we saw on those commercials because the programs already changed to a new infomercial--informing me that I need to buy that exercise machine because the lastest epidemic is obesity! The outrage that someone isn't shaped like a super model! How dare she?!? The magazines told me I had to love a girl that was plastic and a real beauty queen. Outrage runs rampant and we're going to change everything, but I'll start tomorrow because today's just terrible timing. And there's a scene for everything and you have to be the one with the most points, you don't want to be a free thinker anywhere where it counts. I'm fucking tired of it. I'll wait for the withdrawals to begin--because I don't trust my fucking medicine. Then I realized, apathy is contageous. The inevitable black plague falling upon the world--but you're still too blind to see it's effecting everyone--you, them--hell, even me. It starts with some small thing, sick of hearing about starving children over seas, then grows into something else entirely--I don't care about anything. I'll just take the bones you're handing me, and spread my legs a little wider--because there is no hope of this getting any better. I'm never going to see a day where anything merits more than money. Happy is state of being that no one really knows, we all just live vicariously through the mind numbing tv shows. Terrified of my own mortality, as if I'd actually want to live this life I lead. The bombs are dropping in a country that's name is impossible to pronounce--and the military boys are dying or, even worse, twenty three and already war vets with flash backs and PTSD. But that's a price I'm willing to pay to be free! Oh--but they have my sympathy. Wait--maybe we had it all wrong! The media's singing a brand new song! The war is bad! War is unnatural! Those poor boys giving their piece of mind and lives for absolutely nothing. Oh, poor dears--they have my sympathy. But, the radio said it was hopeless--that I'm powerless. So, I'll just eat my dinner and run out to refill my prescriptions because I'm a real winner. The lies are all around you, but you're still too blind to see. The media's fooling you, but you're not fooling me. You seem so happy in your upper middle class, surburban life--but I know that you've hit your wife, your star quarter back son smokes crack and your straight A student daughter spends more time on her back than she does in class. You're so miserable in your own existance but you still can't ignore the constant persistance that you're happily living the American dream. You see the cycle of perpetuated facism and greed, but what the hell does that even mean? You don't even know, so you take up a false cause that the media's force feeding to distract you from the fact that you're culturally brankrupt and spiritually starved. (peta anyone?) Screw the animal rights activists--I'm a human rights acitivist. The basic human rights. The ones we forgot a long time ago, barbarism--I think it's called. The right for a woman to be seen and heard for what she is--a beautiful fucking woman. The right for men to be fucking men and work for everything they have and provide for their families. The right for all of us to not only die peacefully in our sleep--but to die with pride, fighting for the very lands that give us the food that we eat. The right to live and love freely and say, "FUCK YOU" to Uncle Sam and all of his fucking money. The right to have a real relationship based on a connection you couldn't put into words if you tried--the kind that if you lost them, a peice of you would die. The right to have a life that doesn't involve a fucking career, only working for what you need and spending a lot of quality time with friends and family. The right to breathe easy not worrying about your kid being shot at school today, or tomorrow or any other fucking day. The right to feel everything it is you feel--without some doctor force feeding you pills. The right to be fucking human--in all the glory and the pain of our history. The right to embrace your humanity, including your mortality and immorality beause let's face it--none of the ten commandments come naturally--take everything back that's been raped from us. Then, maybe learn how to smile again without the mask wearing thin. So, then if that question's ever asked again, "I'm holding a full house, what are you holding?" I can laugh and say, "It doesn't look like anyone's going to win this hand."   I don't understand why I'm the only person that gets it.  I don't think that all of the 'progress' we've made thus far is really progressive in any way.  Humans, as a whole have not progressed--we're just like any other animal.  Maybe that's the problem--we're just another animal and we're choosing be self important about it in denying that we are just another animal.  You didn't hear of men going off to battle and coming home with PTSD a thousand years ago, because war is perfectly natural--it's part of human nature--but it's not natural for it to be waged on such a large scale.  I blame industrialization,  technology, and the damn hippies for the way the world is.  It's kind of silly, I guess.  But, men aren't taught to be men anymore they're taught to be sensitive, understanding and emotional--but if you look back throughout history--men weren't ever really like that.  Well, of course they all were to an extent--they'd take care of their families, which has to be a sign that they had some sensitivity--but the hippy generation kind of ruined men.   They wanted them to be just like women--but their are gender differences, and we can't just ignore that.   The point where depression and general psychosis first became most apparent was right around the industrial revolution--isn't that a big enough hint that we're not meant to live this way?  I want to remove myself from society in general and revert to tribal days. 

On a less pissy note, Lazareth is still starring in my dreams, and he's still quite frightening.  It's odd because his character is loosely based on my best friend's personality--and with all of the problems I'm having with Lazareth--it's hard not to think it has to hold some kind of psychological significance.  I wonder if I'm really afraid of my best friend, or even worse--if I really can't trust him for some reason.  Do I really think he's that terrible of a person?  Hmm..

So, I'm writing a book.  A borderline silly fiction novel about vampires, werewolves, and witches.  My main villain, Lazareth has recently began starring in my dreams.  That's not too unusual, I don't think.  I mean, I spend a lot of time thinking about this book--practically every spare moment of the day--it wouldn't be too strange for me to dream of it too, only I'm not really dreaming of the book--I'm dreaming of Lazareth.

In the first dream I had of him--I was so completely mesmerized by him that I can't even put it to words.  He was sardonic and seductive at the same time...it was strange.  He seemed to prefer to call me, "my little typist," and take credit for my story.  I guess that sounds a bit silly, but he was so very intense about it that it was almost frightening and certainly intimidating. 

The second dream was more of an argument between the two of us, him claiming he would be the hero--I'd see...and me telling him it's my novel I'll do as I wish to his character--including killing him off in an incredibly degrading manner.  He then proceeded to tell me, in a voice so smooth and calm that I believed him,  that he would crush the very life out of my body if I continued to challenge him.   It was very odd.  I was intimidated to the point of being absolutely still and quiet--anyone who knows me will tell you this is not very common for me.  I tend to be loud, obnoxious and rowdy most of the time.

Then, today,  I had a dream that topped both of the previous ones.  I was sitting at my desk writing, and he came and put his hand on my shoulder like he had the other two times and he was being very encouraging and sweet.  He was telling me that I knew the right thing to do, and he was sure I'd do it...then when I was so completely unsure of myself and my story that I was almost to the point of tears he lashed out at me.  He was talking incredibly fast in this voice that was just--razor sharp.  It was almost like his voice was literally cutting me--it hurt to hear him.  He was just going on and on about my incompetence and how little I really knew about him, blah blah blah.  

I think I've gone insane.  I'm having arguments with my characters, and I've also kind of been arguing with him all day--I'm sure this is all my imagination but it's alarming.  I know that when I'm arguing with Lazareth, I'm really arguing with myself because I don't like him being a villain but I hear his voice and it's so real...oh my..

It's official.  

I'm crazy.

I think being single is the happiest I've ever been.  It's absolutely elating.

I'm going to be a nurse!  I've just decided!  I'm not sure why I never thought it of it before.  It's kind of a perfect career for me.  So..yes, I'm going to school to be an LVN, I'm going to call tomorrow to get more information sent to me...stop fucking around doing nothing and actually get a GED (yeah, yeah, yeah...I know...I'm a drop out) and then start the application/find money to pay for tuition and expenses process.  I'm excited.

Nurse Daisy Danger reporting for duty!!! 

Blah.  I have the Flu.  It's a completely awful ordeal that I wish only upon rapists, pedophiles, and incredibly stupid people.  Hmm...that's a kick in the kharmic ass, I'm sure. 

So, I got into an argument with this Mormon fella I know, that's pretty normal actually, but he kept insisting that the way I dress was my way of hiding.  Hmm...that's not how he put it, he was more eloquent.  But, basically he said that I hide behind my style and use it kind of like a crutch or something.  He asked me if I lost my wardrobe, make up and hairspray if I'd lose myself and I told him no, but that I would be losing a form of expressing myself--and of course that didn't go over well.  He doesn't seem to understand self expression.  He said that if I felt like I was losing myself because of changing the way I dress, then I was the one with the problem.  To which I replied that if he thought he was what he was because of his suit and tie, he was sadly mistaken.  Needless to say this conversation went full circle about one million times with absolutely no resolution.

I know that the things I put on my body do not make me, me.  I know that I would be the same person without my mods, with a shaven head, and even if I wore nothing but a green leisure suit for the rest of my life.   But, I would not be very comfortable.  I would hate it.   So, basically I just see it like this:  I should make my body as comfortable as I can for me to live in, as I'm the only one living in it.  But, does that mean that I lose a bit of me if I lose a bit of style?

My thoughts are just going full circle and there's no real answer as to why things like clothes, make up, shoes, etc really mean so much to me when they mean so little in the sum of things.  One could name it vanity, I suppose, although I don't believe that's accurate either. 

HOuse is on...more ramblings soon.

I guess it's time to stop fighting the inevitable and give up.  It's time to just accept that this is my life and nothing will ever change that.  My silly childhood dreams will not come true.  Hating my life because it isn't the way it's supposed to be is not working, so I guess I have to try something else.  What else is there?  All that's left is accepting that I've failed.  I tried, and failed.  I fought a good fight, and I guess that's something, but in the end it didn't change anything.  It just took a bit longer for them to break me.  But, all in all, I'm still broken.  

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I want to give her the fucking world on a silver platter,
and believe me that little monster deserves it.
I devote every ounce of my strength
to giving her what she wants so she doesn't have to know what it means
to really need
and do without,
but still I want to teach
her that hate is easy
but that's all it is is easy
and that greed seems nice
but in the end greed is just one more fucking knife
shoved into the back of all humanity.
I'd hand her the world on a silver platter,
and that monster deserves it,
but it's beyond my means
and I wonder if she'll understand means
and that it doesn't mean she means
any less to me.
I shiver at knowing
that she'll soon be outgrowing
the bedtime stories
and sippy cups
she'll trade in her favorite blanket
and the toy chest
for an unlit cigarette
and a new kind of "chest."
I'd give her the world on a silver platter
every opportunity I never had.
I'd reach to the sky
and pull out the biggest star
that still couldn't compare to the one in her eyes.
In then end it wouldn't suffice.
They'll despise you for whatever it is you are
or make a bad joke
out of all of those open wounds
that just never quite scarred.
So, here's to you little monster.
Here's to your toys.
Here's for hoping you do better than I did.
Here's for ignoring those heartless boys.
Here's for every night I held you,
and listened to you cry.
Here's for all of those nights that you
were the only thing keeping me alive.
Here's for your graduation day,
and your wedding.
Here's for your life and family,
and here's to not forgetting
that I did the best I could with what I had
and god knows it ain't easy when you're father was never really a dad.
Here's to remembering
that where ever you go,
whatever you do,
whatever it is you know,
you have a mommy that will always love you,
a mommy that satan himself couldn't keep from you.

So, my hair's falling out.  Every time I wash it, handfuls of hair come out.  I'm not going to be able to keep up the charade of being healthy if my hair continues to fall out.  Plus, I've been really sick lately but have convinced everyone that it's just a stomach virus. There's nothing I can really do about it, and that's frustrating. 

I don't like feeling like I have no control of my body and what's happening to it.  I don't like it at all.  It's frustrating and annoying and it makes me sad and angry.  I don't like feeling so helpless.

Cancer's fucking traumatic and I don't like it.  Tuesday I find out if I have to be hospitalized or not.  If I get hospitalized I really don't know what I'll do.  I continue to get angrier and more bitter and people are starting to notice.  I don't know what to do.  I try not to be angry and bitter, but I just can't seem to help it.  My fuse seems to be lessening by the moment, and I just run off at the mouth before I can stop it.

Yesterday I ended up screaming at Mikel about how ungrateful and spoiled he was and just a lot of mean things.  Luckily, he knows about the cancer and assumed I was just having problems coping.  I don't know what to do.  I suppose I should probably come clean to everyone and just tell the truth--but I don't want to.  I don't want these people that practically hate me to suddenly feel sorry for me and be nice to me because I may be dying soon, or because I'm really sick.  It's frustrating, I hate false sympathy. I hate false everything.  I hate fake things.

I called you to tell you that I was afraid.  I was floored by your reaction, like it was so completely unfathomable to imagine me being frightened.  You told me how strong I was, and that I never seemed to be afraid of anything--I immediately thought of the quote, "The only difference between a hero and a coward is that the coward knows which direction to run."  

So, cancer isn't in remission yet but it's stopped progressing. woohoo.  I'm now on a higher dose of radiation and that sucks, but at least it's not progressing.  My hair's started falling out and I've lost 10lbs...and some how Vincent thinks I'm going to be hot when all of this is over. haha.  Silly Vincent.  It seems that every guy I know is suddenly day dreaming of having sex with my radioactive vagina and getting super powers. haha.  I love those silly boys. 

My Monster turned 2!!!!!!!!  Pictures coming soon.

So, my cancer's back with a vengeance.  Cervical which was still stage I and was removed yesterday, Ovarian which is stage III and being treated by external radiation, uterine which is stage III and being treated by internal radiation.

They still won't do a hysterectomy because of my age and the fact that radiation worked last time.  It did work last time, but it came back.  If said organs were gone, it wouldn't have.  This is the third time I've had portions of my cervix removed, and according to doctors my tubes are so scarred it would be a miracle if I could conceive and my uterus is about the same way.  They're basically saying I probably can't have more children anyway, so why on earth would they choose a rather awful treatment instead of one that will have it taken care of fully in about a week?

I'm incredibly tired of cancer.  I just don't want it.  I don't want to go through treatment.  My daughters birthday party is Saturday and I have to go in for external radiation on Friday and the doctor said it would be better not to hold my daughter at all because of the radiation.  Lovely.  I still haven't done all he birthday shopping because I feel so incredibly tired.  I've been incredibly shakey and he doctor keeps saying that's normal, but I was never shaky before.  I can't even work because who's going to trust a girl with shaky hands holding a needle, scalpel, cautery pen, etc.  So, I'm stuck doing counter work which I really hate.  I'm not a damn secretary.  The whole not being able to hold my daughter thing is really getting to me.  I hate it.

I'm hurting from my navel to my knees right now and there is absolutely nothing that can be done about it.  I've always hated my body and saw it as defective and this shit isn't helping.  Everyone keeps telling me I shouldn't feel sorry for myself and that people have it worse and it's annoying the piss out of me.  No shit people have it worse, but this is the worst I've ever had it.  Just let me feel sorry for myself for a couple of days and then I'll get over it.  Or even worse, earlier I was telling my sister about the whole no more babies thing and how I was shaky, feeling like I was going to vomit, in pain, and exhausted and she started saying, "Oh I know exactly how you fell.  This baby kicks 24 hours a day, I can't get a wink of sleep."  Yeah, thanks for the compassion sis, I appreciate it.  Paul's been wonderful though.  He makes me laugh, and I like that.  He makes it easy to laugh at the possibility of death.  When I told  him about my sister he was like, "Oh yeah, I'm dying but your problems are so much worse let me listen to you whine about how terrible your life is." haha.  I adore him.

I suppose that's enough of the cry baby crap for a while.

I've lost my edge, or so they seem to say.  What use did that edge have anyway?  I'm sick of this life I'm leading, I'm sick of driving myself crazy just to find some kind of meaning.  I'm tired of having to search for hope, and inevitably finding out that it's just some kind of cruel joke.  It isn't fair and I understand that it's not supposed to be, but it seems like i deserve a break--if for no other reason because I'm sick of living.  I can't hold my head high and pretend you're not wrong.  I can't laugh and sing those silly songs. 


Him: Do you believe in forever?
Me:  I don't even believe in tomorrow.
Him:  I love you. *chuckles*
Me:  *giggles* I love you too.
Him:  I'm completely infatuated with you, I still love talking to you as much as I did that first conversation. Your smile is still brighter than the brightest star. Marry me.
Me:  *laughing*  What the hell?  That's so twisted and not a funny joke.
Him:  *pause* I'm not joking.  I've been in love since the first time I saw you at that party in Seth Ward.  You were a goddess gracing the losers with her presence.  I saw you smile and it lit the whole fucking place.  You laughed and it was like angels singing.  I love you.  Why the hell wouldn't I want to marry you?
Me:  Just a week or so ago, you were talking about how you weren't even sure you still wanted to be friends.  Remember?  I've lost something? 
Him:  yeah, I made up my mind.  My decision was that you're completely wonderful and I don't want to live one day without you.  Stop being difficult,  just marry me.
Me:  Mikel, I can't marry you.  Have you lost your mind?? Do you even know who you're talking to?
Him:  I know exactly who I'm talking to, and I've been madly in love with her for 6 years and want to marry her.
Me:  I can't even believe we're having this conversation.  What the hell is wrong with you?
Him:  What the hell is wrong with you that you can't see that we're meant to be together.  Soul mates, whatever you want to call it.
Me:  You don't even believe in that kind of thing.
Him:  I didn't used to. I do now.
Me:  Well, I seriously don't believe in forever.
Him: But you used to be willing to give it one hell of a try.
Me:  Yeah, I also used to be a heroin addict and a nazi.  What's your point?
Him:  My point is that you've given up on everything that resembles happiness.
Me:  Mikel, I can't believe in forever, soul mates, fairy tell endings, and all of that crap.
Him:  I'm not trying to play the handsome prince.  I just want to be there for you.  I want to take care of you.  I want you to be able to be you again.  I want us to be like we were.  Do you even remember?  Do you remember trying to get every moment down on paper?  You have to remember that.  All of those feelings, all of that laughter. We were happy once.
Me:  We were kids. Everything was much more simple then.  I was a child, not a mother.  I didn't have all of the hang ups I've recently developed.  You had no responsibility other than yourself, you were free and young and not as desperate as you've become.
Him:  I'm desperate now?
Me:  You just lost someone incredibly close to you, I've been there.  I know it causes people to do silly things.  Look at the whole Kristal thing.  That was pure desperation and it killed me.
Him:  So that's what this is about.  It's about JJ.  Daisy, someday you have to let her go, sweetheart.  You have to just accept that she isn't here.  I've let Jake go.  You can't hold on to something that isn't here, and she isn't here..  There comes a point when you have to just let go.  Waiting for her will do nothing but make you miserable.  Would she really want that?
Me:  Yes, she would.  But this isn't about her.  this is about you and me and you holding on to the damn past with both fucking hands with every ounce of your strength.  The past is gone--it's over.  I love you and I always will--but it's just not the same as it was six damn years ago, why can't you get that through your fucking head?
Him:  Because it's exactly the same.  It is the same.  I don't know why you can't see that.  It makes no sense to me.
Me:  I'm so tired of going over this again and again and again.
Him:  I'm tired of you being a self centered little brat that has no idea what she wants.
Me:  Ok, I'm going to be completely honest with you.  I guess if you hate me, that's something I'll learn to deal with.
Him:  Oh stop and spit it out.
Me:  I think with Jake being gone, you're scared.  You feel alone and you're grasping at whatever the next best thing to Jake might be.  I don't think you want to marry me.  I think you want someone to be there to play Jake's roll and I'm the next best thing.  I understand, I did the same thing with Kristal after losing JJ.  In the end, the only person it hurt was me.  Besides the fact that Kristal was a conniving bitch, she wasn't JJ.  She could never be JJ.  Luckily, she wasn't the type that could actually genuinely care about someone else, so she didn't get hurt.  Otherwise, it probably would have killed us both.   Don't you understand that that's exactly what you're doing?  You're trying to fill the void--and Jake's shoes are damn big shoes to fill and I simply can't do it.
Him:  Don't you understand that this is what I should have done years ago?  Jake knew that.  Jake said that.  He told me three days after the Dom tragedy that I had better make amends and learn to forgive and forget because you were the woman I was going to marry.  When we saw you in Hastings looking at Snatch--he told me if that wasn't a sign nothing was.  He told me to go over to you and pretend no time had passed, just love.  I took his advice.  Did you ever stop to think for one moment that maybe Jake knew more than both of us all along?  That he had it all figured out from the start?  That maybe that's the reason he did this right now?  At this fucking moment.  Because he knew what needed to happen and thought he had done what he needed to do?  He was only here for this, Stephanie.  I fucking know that.  All he cared about was us.  You might not have ever caught that but he loved you just as much as I did from the first time he met you.  He knew were perfect.  He knew you were what I needed.
Me:  Don't do this Mikel.
Him:  Do what?  Be honest?
Me: Don't pretend that Jake had some knowledge of an ultimate plan, or whatever you want to call it, it's not that simple.
Him:  Oh, it isn't?  I have his fucking journal.  I read it directly from his journal. Those were his words.
Me:  I have to go.  This is way too much and I can't even think right now.  Call back in an hour or so after Monster's asleep.  We'll talk then.
Him:  Ok.  I won't leave for Austin until I have your answer.
Me:  You have my answer. 
Him:  I don't yet.
Me:  Bye.
Him: Bye.

Mikel:  I don't understand you anymore.  I used to get you, but now...you're so lost these days.  Do you have any direction at all anymore?
Me:  I don't understand what you mean, and I'm a bit offended by that.
Mikel:  Well, we all get tired--I understand that.  I don't mean to offend, but you used to have goals.  You strived more than anyone else I've ever known.  You were so ambitious and hard working.  Like gets in the way and I understand that.  With Jake gone, I have no direction.  But I'm sure I"ll find one soon enough.
Me:  You're completely losing me.  I can't follow your train of thought.  What am I doing that's so terrible?
Mikel:  You're not doing anything, that's the problem.
Me:  What am I supposed to be doing?
Mikel:  When was the last time you painted?
Me:  I painted the Eloquent Perversion of Hope for Aveda when I was pregnant.
Mikel:  So, what?  Two, three years? 
Me:  Well, I painted a portrait for Suzi a few months ago.
Mikel:  When was the last time you painted just because you wanted to, because there was something that you just had to get on canvas?
Me:.....I don't know.
Mikel:  Exactly.  And the last time you wrote?
Me:  Last night.
Mikel:  I don't mean your silly escaping to a safe world you've created for yourself novel.  I mean really wrote--like when you wrote Suicidal Hearts.
Me:  You think my novel is silly?
Mikel:  I think most novels are silly.  You know that.  Making up a history is hardly the same as divulging the secrets of the life we all lead.
Me:  I can't write anymore.  I've nothing to say.
Mikel:  When was the last time you sketched?
Me:  It's been years.
Mikel:  You don't see a problem with any of this? 
Me:  What can I do?  Honestly.  I am completely used up.  I spend my days chasing after Monster, putting every ounce of energy into her.  Then, the tiny bit I have left gets used up by you, Vincent, Josh, Sidney, and Allie.  Really?  What am I supposed to do?  I don't have an ounce of blood left in my veins that is truly mine, it's all been given to other people. 
Mikel:  You've always taken on more than you could handle, but you used to deal with it much more gracefully.  When was the last time you shaved, fixed your hair, put on make up and a nice dress just because you wanted to not because someone expected it from you?
Me:  I don't know.  I don't have time for that. 
Mikel:  You don't have time for you anymore.
Me:  Well, that's what happens when you're a single mother.
Mikel:  No, you're using that as a cop out.  You like to think that's true.  That you can't do anything because of time or energy or lack of inspiration--but we both know that isn't really true.  What happened to Palo Dura Canyon or hindsight being 20/20?  You've lost something, and I'm not sure I can have you without it.
Me:  Excuse me?  Are you trying to ditch me?  Is that what this is all about?
Mikel:  I'm not sure yet.  What happened to you?  Where's you edge? What happened to that unapologetic, honest, literary goddess that I was completely infatuated with in every bit of me?  Where did..
Me:  What happened to that boy who cried everytime he touched my scars?  What happened to him? 
Mikel:  What happened to the girl that didn't constantly apologize for scars and other things she sees as short comings?  You're the one that wrote, "Constant apologies would only make a liar of me."
Me:  Are you angry at me for growing up or becoming a mother?
Mikel:  I'm angry that you think growing up is all that you've done, and that all you are is a mother.
Me:  I don't think that's all I am.
Mikel:  I just miss you.
Me:  I'm the one that told you that we didn't grow together, we grew apart.  *Insert sobbing here*  You're the one that insisted it didn't matter.  I tried to tell you it did, I tried to tell you that we weren't the same people, I tried to tell you that this wouldn't--couldn't--work.
Mikel:  And I'm the one that told you that we've lost so much of ourselves that the only thing that could help is people who know who you are.
Me:  I was 15, Mikel.  Do you ever think maybe I had no idea who I was?
Mikel:  Did you ever think you knew exactly who you were because no one had told you, you shouldn't be that person yet?
Me:  Everyone told me I shouldn't be the person I was, Mikel.  You know that. 
Mikel:  I know that you're too bitter to only be 20.  I know that you used to be happy.  I know that you used to write constantly and never fail to amaze me.  I know you used to understand art, religion, politics,  and self expression because you knew it was all one in the same.  I know that you used to be completely, unrelentingly, disgustingly beautiful and unapologetic about it. 
Me:  I know that I've had a hard five years and it takes time to bounce back from it.
Mikel:  I know that you were elastic and never had any problems before.
Me:  I know that  I'm not as resilient as everyone thinks i should be.
Mikel:  I know that this conversation isn't going anywhere and I don't know how to help that.
Me:  I need to go, it's Monster's bed time.
Mikel:  I'll call you back to settle this.
Me:  Bye.
Mikel:  I miss  you.

I pushed end call and mumbled.  "I miss me too."

I was just watching the Lifetime movie A Girl Like Me: The Gwen Araujo Story which is completely disheartening story about a 17 year old transgendered girl, who was savagely beaten and strangled to death.  Only two of her attackers were actually convicted, and only of second degree manslaughter--and not a hate crime.   As sad as this movie was, I kept myself together pretty well just mainly disgusted at the inhumanity that rages among humans when my 23 month old daughter, who was sitting in the floor looking at a book, looked up at the television during the funeral scene and said very plainly, "Bye pretty girl," and waved.  I fell to pieces after that.  Honestly, how could someone treat someone else like that?  The defense attorney for the boys who murdered her was trying to use the typical, 'it's society's fault' defense--and her mother let him have it.  I was raised in a very Southern Christian house hold, until recent years when both my parents were forced to accept that neither my sister or I are heterosexual they had always been completely intolerant of anything varying from what they considered to be normal--but I still know that attacking someone for any reason is wrong.  I still know that just because someone's different--doesn't mean they deserve a lynching.  Why is that so hard to understand?  Honestly, I don't get it at all.  From a mothers point of view--I don't see how you could teach your children to hate.  If I ever so much as heard a rumor that Monster was bullying or picking on some kid because they were different--I can guarantee you it would be the last time it ever happened.  The amount of disappointment, anger, frustration, and absolute revoltion I would feel, I can't even put into words --and I can't even imagine what I would do if I found out someone was treating her that way. 

I'm incredibly frustrated because I know things like this happen everyday.  I want to believe that this kind of thing is getting less and less regular of an occurance, but I can't completely deny the reality that people have a serious issue with tolerance. 

Moments like think I hate humanity.



So, I feel like I'm being stretched way too thin lately.  Mikel's tragedy has become my own.  Not that that's really that uncommon.  The first time he told me about his mother's boyfriends that used him as a punching bag or sex toy, i had nightmares for months.  It's incredibly strange how connected you can be with someone.