hahaist011's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- and today was actually a good day. fuck fuck fuck. still a motherfucking baby. maybe i am all twisted up and fucking cutthroat nowadays (now-a-years?) because of my fucking childhood? god fuck damn fuck god. okay. stop. okay. okay. what i am wondering. if all that time wanting or waiting for apologies. if all that time (did it exist? was i ever weird and stupid enough to think he would apologize?) is what made, for me, apologies pretty useless outside of a certain time frame? like i mean, there's a window? after say twenty seven hours or three days or sixteen minutes or whatev, any apology is yeah accepted but not--no, never--granted status as balm or comfort? like i mean (god fuck you i can't be plain not because i fucking want to be obscure but because i am a fucking idiot), i just fucking cut people off. if i am hurt somehow, i will only acknowledge that i was hurt for like a certain time frame. if the hurt-er apologizes within that time frame it will be alright and cool. if not, then the files are marked classified or shredded. new files appear. a memo: i was never hurt because --oh, it's terribly simple--_you_ could never fucking hurt me. you'd have to fucking be able to affect me to be able to do that, wouldn't you? ergo, i do the best apology acceptance speeches ever (ask anybody, but ask tricia if you want an account of one of my very, very best) because yo i make the violins rise to accompany my sweeping statements about human nature and culpability. i realign the planets to let you know that what you have done is so very okay and that, even at this moment, i see buddha shining through your beautifully flawed eyes. how could i--as flawed, as mortal--ever ever hold so small a thing against you? knowing what i know, feeling what i feel. in adam's fall, we sinned all. bless you bless you. later, of course, you probably suspect some serious shade. as i never seem quite so present. as i, ultimately, don't call you back for like three months. and by "three months," i mean i don't actually ever call you again i just maybe some time pick up when you call one more time. again, this is all very normal, isn't it? or so it seems. and it is worrying me, though how can i muster the energy to actually worry some more about being the way i am. what the fuck else can worrying possibly do? what is really really really worrying me is that window i was talking about. i think it is getting smaller and smaller. has been, maybe for awhile, and i didn't notice? (like the flood at waupelani.) but yeah, okay, so it's getting smaller...fine-ish. no no no--i am worried, actually, that it really doesn't even exist anymore. this office has improved its productivity by skipping a step; all new clients are immediately filed under Cut Off. and i did say "new," you know? for once, it seems, no one who'd ever read this could be the "you" i was using. because you all already know too much, and it'd be worse for my pride to pretend that you don't. oh wait. maybe i'm wrong, and it's not that i cut people off right away. i just thought, i still feel old hurts. and i still am hurt by the same old people in new ways. maybe it's just that the office is waaaay behind. we are backlogged. i will get to the new ones in say fifteen to seventeen years. for now, i am still feeling kinda bad that ----- told ----- not to ruin --- ---- by ------ me. and i have to fucking teach point-of-view to a hundred some tenth graders tomorrow? i think i'll teach them that first person is for self-indulgent weaklings.
9:24 p.m. - 2007-09-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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