August 30th, 2003

Dr. Bunny

I'm sure there's worth in my words, I just can't find it

My apartment is currently in shambles, and it's a personal reflection.

I'm currently doing the great rearranging of 2003, and part of the means moving my bookshelves, which means there are piles and piles of books littering my floor. I just don't have the energy to sort and put them away. And once I'm done with the books I need to work on the living room. And I need to do this and I need to do that and it's all just a cover. Everybody else is busy busy busy and I am stalling, back peddling, watching the world I used to live in.

This isn't how it's supposed to be. This isn't supposed to be how my life goes.

I just want to be famous, I want to be beautiful.
I want to be a muse, I want to be somebody's inspiration.
But that's not who I am.
I want to be wild, I want to drive around.
I want to leave and come back different,
I want to be like the women I read about in my stories. Strong, independant, witty, sharp as a tack.
I want the power of sexuality.
I want guys to be mesmerized by the way I walk.
I want to lie in bed with a guy I like and laugh between the sheets.
I want to be tragically, joyfully, dramatically romantic.
I don't want to be alone.
I want guys to do a double take when I walk into a room.
I want to be confidant about who I am.
I need to stop being so superficial.
I want to be able to write down my views on the world, life, love, everything, politics and power in a cohesive manner.
I want people to believe what I write.
I want to stimulate thought.
I want to be taken care of and yet I don't.
I want to lay my hands on all my friends who are sad or depressed or hurting and take their pain away and hug them and tell them everything will be alright.
I want someone to come to my rescue, just once.
I want my life to be a song; poetic, rythmic, touching, but not a country song. Besides, my dog already died.
I want God to invite me to tea and tell me what my purpose is and what I've done right and what I've done wrong.
I want life to be an infocom game and I want the walk through guide.
I want to be able to answer all the questions people ask me, even the hypothetical ones.
I want to be wanted.
Above all, I want that.

It's so strange how I can go from so positive to so lost. I've been taking my apartment apart bit by bit, moving things around, cluttering up everything. Right now it's more messy than organized. It's always darker just before dawn.

That's so full of shit.

I could say that I'm trying to organize who I am. Taking myself apart as I am my living space. Perhaps that's true, but that's a metaphore to deep for me at this hour. I'm going to bed.

If I can find it under the books that is....

I was supposed to have the life of an energenic writer. You know, the ones who live life at such a dizzying pace then end up running them selves to the ground at an early age. But they've seen so much, they've done so much, they've lived so much in that short time. What am I waiting for? What sign do I need to push me out of this so called life and into the one that I was destined for? I can feel it in my bones, it calls out to me, is says "move! see the world! see yourself! make new friends! get out get out get out!" Why can't I do that? Why can't I live?
  • Current Music
    the creaking thumping of my upstairs neighbors doing something