Thursday, June 17, 2010

damn i wish i could show some kind of emotion. give me something. i just feel so fuckin numb to everything. i need a connection. i need some human interaction. i need somethin to help me feel alive again. give me somethin. whatever this is thats goin on right now needs to come to an abrupt stop before i end it myself. people are just so fucking stupid sometimes i'm just so fuckin dumb and naive. i'm a fuckin idiot tool. just use me. thats the only time i feel anything. the only time i feel human. the only time i'm not numb to my surrounding. why is it that i only want what i cant have and when something wants me then i don't want it. why can't i force myself to want it back. why is that i constantly feel like i have to prove myself. why is it that i feel like fuckin cassie in an episode of skins when i should really be a sid or a jal. why is it that im fuckin doing this. this shit is so fucking confusing. i'm tired of people telling me how impressed and proud and how they can't believe i did what i did and i'm living how i want to live. i'm tired of feeling fuckin isolated even when i'm not alone. what is this gay shit. why can't i just pick a gender an stick with it. are my emotions even real. if i truly feel the way i say i do about this girl, then why am i still chasing after a guy. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckukahjszgvbcukajsZFCVBu kjds,mgzv fuck this shit. where the hell are u jay. i can't deal and i need a fuckin nap and a bisquit.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

mistake two

falling in love/like/lust with a girl. i think she's worth it tho.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

mistake one

sitting at the airport, stuck because of my stupidity i had a lot of time to think about the mistakes i made. i had a lot of time to wonder why that guy from jersey shore is shorter in person, and why his hair looks more real on tv than in person. i had a lot of time to sit and ponder all the shitty mistakes i made after i hopped on my first plane to cali back in august. and mistake number one would have to be guy thirty-six.

i should have never gotten involved with guy 36, but i did anyway. i never had that father figure growing up, and i guess thats why i clung to him at first. guy 36 was a thirty something year old man i met my first day in los angeles. he has some random job here selling cars, selling drugs, selling used vacuum cleaners. i don't know exactly, but it seems to change everytime i ask. he's married, or he was married, and he has two daughters. i should have never gotten involved with guy 36, but at the time it seemed like a good idea.

he showed me around los angeles. introduced me to a few people. and helped me fine a place to live. the sex wasn;t that great, but he was a good guy. and a good guy is always better than great sex. i fell for him. he was my guy. but i never told him how i felt, and we eventually lost touch. fast forward to 2010 and we're back in each others lives.

the only problem was i didn't need that father figure anymore. los angeles turned me into a man. i had found my way, and i wasn't losing it to find myself in someone else. and guy 36 didn't like this. he made it known to me that he didn't like the guy i was becoming. he missed the guy i was. he missed that subservient boy that he first met. but i couldn't be this guy for him, and when he saw that he was losing me he did the unthinkable and asked me to marry him.

it wasn't romantic. wasn't thought out. it was a spur of the moment decision. we were laying in bed, arguing about him being clingy and thats when he said it. i laughed. i'm all for being domesticated, but guy 36 will not be the lucky person to domesticate me.

i guess the whole point of this is i never understood how you could say you love someone, but not be there for them when they really need you. like lets say i stupidly think my plane is getting into los angeles at eight but it actually gets in at eleven and i need a ride home, because my bus stops running at eleven. and thats why guy 36 is mistake number one.

lesson learned.

Friday, May 28, 2010

creative license

You: You can’t stop this.
Me: Yeah, I get that. It’s just, where else am I gonna go? You’ve been my best friend my whole life. World gonna end where else would I want to be?
You: Is this the master plan? You’re going to stop me by telling me you love me?
Me: Well, I was going to walk you off a cliff and hand you an anvil, but it seemed kinda cartoony.
You: Still making jokes.
Me: I’m not joking. I know you’re in pain. I can’t imagine the pain you’re in. And I know you’re about to do something apocalyptically evil and stupid, and hey … I still want to hang. You’re dragqueen.x.
You: Don’t call me that.
Me: First day of third grade . You pissed your pants because you broke the yellow crayon, and you were too afraid to tell anyone. You’ve come pretty far, ending the world, not a terrific notion. But the thing is? Yeah. I love you. I loved crayon-breaky dragqueen.x and I love scary veiny dragqueen.x. So if I’m going out, it’s here. If you wanna kill the world? Well, then start with me. I’ve earned that.
You: You think I won’t?
Me: It doesn’t matter. I’ll still love you.
You: Shut up.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

fade to black

She cut off all her hair, took out her purple eyes, and then she cut me loose.
Loose my number was all she wrote.
And okay was all I said.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

the day i st(arted)opped loving her


we knew each other before we knew each other. pictures of her and me hung on my bedroom walls. i would sit on the floor drawing houses and buildings, and stare at this girl on the wall. who was this girl and why didn't i remember her. we had history, but i couldn't remember it. so i asked my mom. "thats k, and thats you. you guys played together when you were younger. you were like two then." she was k. i was j. and we knew each other before we knew each other.

first contact.

i was on the ground before i knew i was falling. i stared at my hands for a few seconds, and watched as the blood bubbled a little. "nothing a band-aid can't fix" i said, i've been hurt worse. when i was seven my brother ran me over with his bike. if i could survive that, then i could survive anything.

i looked up and i saw this strange creature. she pointed and laughed at me, but i couldn't get past the purple eyes and the brown skin. she was different, but. she had a look in her eyes that was familiar. she was like a siren, and i was a dumb fisherman drawn into her. until a sharp pain in my kidney gained my attention.

she kicked me and was now running away. moments passed and i just layed there on the pavement. my teacher walked over and immediately began yelling at me. "why did you trip her. you're too big to be playing rough with her. no recess for a week." i was lying on the ground, i was bleeding, and my teacher looked passed all of this to believe a field of lies this purple-eyed creature fed her. "now apologize to k, and i wont send a letter home to your mom."

her name was k. and we had history.

signs of trouble

k missed a few days of class and i volunteered to deliver her. i'd never been to her house before, but i'd walked by it on numerous occasions. it was an ordinary house. with an ordinary fence. and an ordinary dog. i knocked on the door and she opened it. she had bandages on her arms so i asked what happened.

she walked into the kitchen. poured a glass of water. grabbed a knife. and slit her finger. and let the blood drip into the glass of water. "look at it. really look. watch as the blood stains the water. its beautiful." "are you crazy" i asked. "yeah...are you?"

i was. i had to be. i didn't run from her that day. i started running head first into oncoming traffic. that was the day i started loving her.

moment of reprieve

purple flamingos. virginity lost. love letters. boy meets world. the ultimatum. me or him. she became tapanga. i became corey. long nights. short days. the slap. beginning of the end.

the break up

it was quick. we were partners in pre-algebra, like we were partners in every class we took together. she was the one deemed "gifted" by the educational system. every wednesday, her and the rest of the gifted students in the eighth grade would disappear from class and have their own special class meetings. she was gifted, i was not. but when it came to math, she looked to me.

the teacher wasn't there that day. we had a substitute. she was young. she was dumb. and she was too busy chatting on her phone to realize the mistakes she was making. i sat in my desk. k sat next to me. i worked, while she did what she did nest, put the fear of god into the other students, and it was a beautiful thing to watch.


was the only sound the paper made as it hit k in the head. i watched as she grabbed the paper, walked over to the boy, punched him in the face, and dared him to do something about it. she walked back to me, wrote on the paper, handed it to me, and walked out of the room. I'M SORRY J, it read. I THOUGHT I COULD CHANGE. I CAN'T. I'M SORRY. ITS OVER.

the room was silent. everyone looked at me. they always did. somewhere in the past three years of knowing her, i became responsible for k. i was expected to keep her in line. i was expected to calm her down. i was expected to apologize for her mistakes. the room was silent. everyone looked at me. they always did. i got up and headed towards towards the nearest exit.

it was over before it ever began.

this is my religion

i was molested as a child. thats a fuckin fact. this did not happen behind closed doors. it happened out in the open. i can remember everything. i can see it with the most vivid details. i know when it happened, where it happened, how long it happened, how he looked, and what we did. but no one else knew about this. thats the thing that bothers me. thats the thing that keeps me up at night. thats the thing that makes me push people away. forget the fact that i was molested. how did no one know. how could i sit on this guys lap, suck his nipples, suck his dick, him touch me, him play with my ass, him kiss me and no one knew it. no one found out. no one stopped it. this didn't happen behind closed doors. this shit happened out in the open. i remember the yellow house. the yellow house with the three bedrooms. but i don't remember his. i can see his sisters. ive played in his sisters but ive never been in his room. this shit happened out in the open. in the living room on the floor. on the sofa. under the table. this shit fuckin happened on a fuckin trampoline every fucxkin day out in the fuckin open in the middle of the afternoon. how did no one see this. how did no one catch us. why was this never stopped. i dont get it. it doesnt make sense to me. its the one thing that doesnt make sense to me and it bothers the fuck out of me.