if i were a vampire, would you let me suck your blood? i’d be a werewolf for you. if you’d like. or. you could be the werewolf, and i’ll be the vampire.
just another night terrorizing the world.
as i was saying, most everything i have ever written on this page has been for you to read primarily. i wrote it for myself, but for you to read. you were the only one i ever cared about. your interpretations. right now i’m listening to selected ambient works [two]. it’s still on track one, which is seconded to track three [rhubarb?] which i, for whatever reason, didn’t realize was on this album until about six days ago. i was working at the school, sweeping the floors, mulling over many things, including the fact that now is apparently centipede season. in the process of dealing with that, watching one of the eighteen hundred legged creatures follow me down the hallway, track two ended, revealing sounds of soothing melancholy. the centipede hovered slightly closer, then stopped. it occurred to me that the now seemingly friendly creature was gradually beginning to distort, as if everything holding it in shape, and separating it from the linoleum tiles gave way. both forms of matter gradually puddle and blended. my face began to tighten. i decided to stare at the florescent lights for a time, after placing the song on repeat. i’d like to tell you, for both our sakes, how long i stood there. it couldn’t have been too long. i guess it doesn’t even really matter whether it was five days to five minutes. the point is and was that i hadn’t really cried yet, and had never cried exactly in such a manner ever. i often times cry simply because i feel i need to, at certain points it’s even forced. but this instance was completely accidental and relevant. despite anything, however, i in no way lacked perspective in that instance. everything was fine. but i thought of my discomforts and my newfound taste of the word distance. and how people impact the days of others with delight. whether they try to or not. it’s all the same.
after hearing that track i couldn’t seem to stop listening to it. in fact, it was the only thing i listen to for about five days, as i drove around in the country at night or watched the sun rise behind the windmills and wrote about thing that never seemed as good as i’d have liked them to be. sometimes i feel what i write lacks so much insight. i feel like the kid writing words, and the old woman reading them, judging my own lack of experience.
the sun is up now. it is 6:17am where i am. sitting on my bed at my parent’s house. post watching salem’s lot, and feeling very frightened. i found myself looking over both shoulders on several occasions.
i am sorry that i asked you to not forget about me. it was a very silly question or request, i don’t recall. but having the same dream twice makes you begin to secretly fear the worst, no matter how hard you try not to. i don’t fear it too much or very often. it was a silly question. come to think of it, i really don’t think about it very heavily. to be honest, i’m beginning to recognize it as a simple manifestation of my utterly human side. needing reassurance that i’m okay. people like me. why do we require such things as reassurance. tell me i’m okay. tell me i’m pretty.
i haven’t been able to sleep, maybe because it’s been incredibly hot here. but i find myself watching late night paid adverts for face revitalizing whateverthefuck cream or powder or magic buffer scrubbing machines that all you have to do is just plug it in and allow the abrasive stone to slowly exfoliate the age away. it’s kind of sick how much i enjoy programs such as those. everyone looks so excited and they laugh a lot and make quirky little comments. “ just blend and blend and blend. blending is the secret.” that’s from edward scissorhands. i don’t know. i just think they are so weird and surreal. sometimes i begin to think. maybe my face is overly porous. maybe i need the twelve piece rejuvenation kit. instantly realizing the error of my thoughts. then i get very confused about why people care so much about aging well and having the clearest skin and the softest hair and the whitest teeth. what do we think we are, and why are the images we project so pertinent. i suppose there are a thousand answers to that question. but i don’t understand how or why the world works the way it does. and i often times feel that this will forever be my deep seeded “problem.” the questions that will forever haunt me, and make my life supposedly, or maybe even actually, harder. everything normal i can’t get over. which is sort of why i wrote what i did this morning. that and i was really tired. i get really depressed about having to be to work at seven-am. and the first thing i did do was spell the work “misery” on my mattress. my dad told me that for many years he worked hard instead of working smart, and it make all the difference when he realized this. and i need to do that. all i could think about was how much he disliked his last job, his “smart” job. i don’t understand. and i wonder if maybe i’m just being a kid about all this. maybe i’m just stupid and naïve and haven’t “figured it out yet.” the world will teach me. the world will show me what’s up. i just don’t think so.
my heart hurts. it’s lonely. that’s what ended up being lonely. my brain is fine. but my heart is what is hurting. that’s all i can really say. and if before you left i made it seem like everything would be shit and bad, that wasn’t what i meant to project. i can’t think of how to explain myself. i was upset when you left. i was sad, but i can’t imagine how else i could have acted, you being one of the most delightful aspects of my existence presently. it isn’t fun for me to watch people go. it’s different to be the one leaving. where i am is where i’ve always been. i don’t see a real future here. where you are worlds have opened up. it’s different in my eyes. i’m not saying my situation is more painful, but certainly different. it is definitely a task to create new things in such an old place. i’ve been trying. succeeding fairly well. i have to keep myself busy. i have to keep myself going. i have people to share with, but not in such a way as you. i miss you. and i love you. time is a weird thing. and i’m sure it will be gone before i have recognized all the good that has passed through my speck of existence. i’m trying. be careful. chin up. it’s another wednesday.