mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary

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engineheart

A tiny piece of metal and it shone like a green glass bottle and I thought if I touched it it would have burned my fingers. Like in the movies when a vampire touches a crucifix, maybe, I would have seen myself burst into flames if his left hand brushed against me. I told him that when I saw it I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach and it did, a real sensation where the floor rushed at me for a second and my breath was shallow and strained. I don't understand why it did, I am behaving and staying tough and having a thick skin and trying hard to keep myself tethered to the ground. So why the kick to the stomach? The world continues to plug along when I am not around. I forget sometimes.
I wrote a speech for Matt's wedding and in the speech I said that he is my Wendy, grown-up and solid as a rock but I am still Peter Pan and even though being young and free is a beautiful thing, maybe growing up can be nice, too. Maybe I'll get to try it someday. He said he brought the house down at Amy's wedding, made himself cry even. I cried writing mine. Time lost, you know? But there will be more times so I didn't cry for too long.
Dan said tonight, when I told him that I wanted to be a librarian, that I was made to write books, not to stack them. Maybe I'll try that, too.I have figured out why the sudden burst of end-to-end frequent updates: I got nowhere else to go. This house is jam-packed with bodies and things, furniture, pillows, fucking balls, my Ma collects decorative BALLS for chrissakes. But when I come home from work and the dogs are barking and the tv is on full-blast I can still plug myself into a good song and hang out here, in my own head.

5:43 a.m. - 2007-04-04

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