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Precious Things

June 27, 2007

Standing in the middle of all of my clothes, literally scattered all over the floor, I survey my options for the day. I try on several different combinations and size myself up in the mirror pausing to scrutinize my enormous thighs, my too curly hair, my flabby rough chicken skin arms and my pathetic bust-line. Only my eye color and hands get a free pass from the flame of discontent so I rarely wear gloves or sunglasses. Showering in my tiny and mold filled shower wedged into the back of my endlessly large and cavernous closet is always a race against time. And if I can avoid touching anything in the shower and have my feet on the bottom of the shower for as little time as possible. I stand on one foot usually to lessen the contact. At 19 it rarely occurs to me to clean it because it is so dirty I do not know where to start. Youth is blissfully ignorant and selective in what is important. You have to have your priorities man. I smoke a cigarette and look for my bright red lipstick and black eyeliner. I put on my weird necklace that looks like a bottle but it is sealed and contains nothing. I feel like that bottle, in a tragically cliched way, often. I am a prop. A conversation piece. I am not a real person really because there is not much to me on the inside. Pulling the thingy-ma-bob over my head I smudge my lipstick. “Fuck.” And I start again painting my lips as dark and red as I can. Long ago I learned that my makeup and clothing could be this kind of armor against snide girls and rude boys. I go for the intimidating look..so strange no one dares to mock me. I think too much of myself. “Fuck.”

Boy after boy after the occasion actual man (by age only…after 22 you stop being a boy even when you act like you are still 14) amuse me in various ways. I am naively selective in that I pretend that the ones I am not actually interested in are just my friends and it never **wink*** occurs to me that we could go out and I ignore politely all vague and overt attempts to date me. The ones that have practically no use for me at all I am drawn to like gum to your hair. And once attached I am frantically wondering how to get out of this serious problem that I thought was really just all in fun.

I did not want to be alone. I just wanted a boyfriend. But not that boyfriend. Or this boyfriend. Some vague notion of what fabulous guy might want to love me forever. I liked sex for the most part and felt very powerful to be able to use a boy or man for my own interests and then walk away. Sometimes I crawled away, but always away. Not by choice always and then I had to stalk them for a short time. Or sometimes I was stalked. I think one boyfriend that I really was nice to prank-called me for about 2 years until I left on the boat. He dumped me but then stalked me anyways. And I thought I had problems.

The faces of the ridiculous partners in my crimes are fuzzy and far away. There was some talk at one point that I might be a slut or something. That concept is very confusing to me. We were both having sex and I was enjoying it and they also appeared to and if I didn’t care that we were going out or dating but had sex and neither did they…who were they pulling one over? Why was I the slut? That makes no sense. There are two people there at the same time. How does one of those people become the slutty or wicked one?

Maybe they thought their charms and woo-full ways were just too strong. They work their voodoo on me and I am helpless and at their mercy delving into my inner amazon woman and giving up myself to them. “Fuck.” I mean, whatever gets you off, man. You can disillusion yourself all you want that it was some power you had over me that made me do it. I just can’t control myself around you. I just loose my mind.

“I wanna smash the faces, of those beautiful boys, those christian boys. So you can make me cum doesn’t make you jesus.”

Stupid fuckers, literally, all of them.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. June 30, 2007 5:06 pm

    How you can reach back…? It’s all so vivid. I can smell the shower, see the lipstick, see the boys… Stupid fuckers. I like it.

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