mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- satisfaction. This story has become my new favorite way to calm myself down: A man walking across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger chasing after him. Coming to a cliff, he caught hold of a wild vine and swung himself over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Terrified, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger had come, waiting to eat him. Two mice, one white and one black, little by little began to gnaw away at the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted! On the plane, fighting pre-flight terrors, wondering whatifwhatif, I whispered to myself: Taste the strawberry. At work, dealing with awful co-workers and awfuller customers: Taste the strawberry, just taste the fucking strawberry. At home, feeling pouty and lonesome and picked-on: The strawberry, the strawberry, the fucking strawberry! I haven't updated for so long because I do not know what to say. In this place, I'm torn between the ever-present drive to be well-liked and popular and witty and the need to work out all of the crap that goes on inside this skull from day to day. I'm a fucking bummer, lately. I know that. One good thing to mention: I think I may be madly nuts in love with Jeromy again. Apparently, I'm incapable of giving a shit about anyone unless they threaten to leave. It worked like a charm, though, and I'm back in the Good Place, at least where that particular relationship is concerned. Other relationships, though, aren't exactly flourishing. Crystal, for example, made an innocent remark earlier this evening about the fact that the kitchen and dining room lights were on all night. I suffered a moment of insanity and pictured myself cramming the rather-large and oddly-shaped living room lamp up her ass. She asked why I was looking at her like that. It would have been funny if I wasn't so shocked at my reaction to an innocuous statement that really had nothing to do with me. I've been pretty resentful of her lately, as well, which I'm sure had some effect on my tired and irritable state-of-mind. To echo Crystal's wholly self-centered and annoying younger sister, she, like, totally doesn't even spend any time with me when Donald's here! I refuse to say such a thing out of fear that I'll come off as idiotic and selfish as Alys, but that's just the way I've been feeling. I resorted to spouting outrageous gibberish last night simply to get her to acknowledge my presence ( I said, "All Geminis to the raspberry hats," and, "It's in the sandblaster." I'll love you if you can name my number one addiction.) I suppose that a good friend would be happy that her best pal was so madly in love that she had sequestered herself in a tiny world for two in which no other living, breathing human being existed and mimicked this in real life by spending every waking second glued to her boyfriend's side, either showering for hours, locking herself in the bedroom with him for all-day-sexathons, or sitting on the patio smoking with him and not noticing that her best friend who has been at work all day who misses her and is desperately BEGGING for human contact with her specifically is not only on the face of the planet but in the same goddamn city and on the same goddamn patio, even, but then again, I was never good at the whole friendship thing. I'm being a baby. I'm trying to break myself of that. Other relationships: Matt is a bleeding asshole. I have made this the second part of my mantra-- Taste the strawberry, Matt is a bleeding asshole. I suppose that this revelation hasn't helped improve my mood much, either. We didn't fight, or anything like that-- to use a cliche, it was the little things. Or, rather, the complete lack of little things. It was me watching him do those little things for everyone besides me. I was thinking about how I had never really thought about myself as a shitty friend before I met Matt, and I came to this conclusion: He MADE me a shitty friend. Fuck, I kept coming back for more, why shouldn't my friends? Of course, I can't really blame him for my crappy behavior, but I can say that the fact that I have to consciously think about trusting a person-- that I have to FORCE myself to-- possibly has a lot to do with all of the times he somehow conned me into believing every fucking word he spoke. Well, that's what you get when you try to become friends with a habitual liar, I guess. My own fault, I know. It's times like this I wish I was a drug addict. Just kidding. Ha ha... ha. 1:01 a.m. - 2004-08-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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