mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- all the pretty songs She whispers in one ear. He whispers in the other. These quiet voices are deafening, and my tired head can't take it. Blink. 1999. My face in his hands. His feet in my lap. Old movies playing on the television. Blink. 2003. I hold her left hand while she steers with the right. Ric Ocasek is singing the words "You're all I've got tonight," full volume. A vibrant spot of blood appears on the seat beneath her. Blink. 1993. Ten years old. I say to myself, "I'll love her more than I love anybody else. She won't be like me." Blink. 2002. 2003. 2004. Mantra until I was nineteen: Fat, evil, ugly, stupid. Fat, evil, ugly, stupid, a hundred thousand times under my breath. I brainwashed my uselessness right into myself so throroughly I still can't dislodge the toxic chip in the center of me. I WILL USE YOU. I WILL MAKE YOU FEEL JUST LIKE I DO. I whisper to myself late at night, "Please God, make me better. Please God, make me better. Please God, make me better. Please God, make me better. Please God, make me better. Please God, make me better. Please God, make me better. Please please pleasepleaseplease God, make me better." Fat, evil, ugly, stupid. Blink. The time I didn't fight back. Blink. I slice the skin across my ribs wide open and lick the blood from my fingers. Blink. "Don't you trust us?" Blink. "I swear on my father." Blink. Fuck. End it. Get it over with, fuck until you can't stand, fuck until I'm liquid, fuck until you piss blood and shit semen. Starve myself. Drink until I'm too stupid to know better. Vomit silence and empty space until no one else exists. 1:49 a.m. - 2004-06-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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