"How could you take almost everything?"
I had a good weekend. I'll talk about that perhaps another time. You could say that my focus shifted.
Well, honestly, the weekend was good. After slight cathings-of-breath-realizing kinda moments (I still have on the necklace Jake gave me, and with every movement, it continues to remind me he's no longer around in the same way), the show went on. I didn't feel as awkward as I did before. By the show's end, I was medium-happy. I'd prefer to have played Frank I realized early that night, as Brad just didn't cut it. It's hard to play vulnerable when you feel so utterly empty to begin with. I needed strength, no matter how false it was. In any event, I had an ok show. I had fun.
After the show, I went outside from the back to... nothing. I felt like such a pathetic cliche just standing still realizing "Oh, fuck!"... Yeah, he wasn't there. Even if he had been... Well, he just wasn't there.
So, ride to diner. I love Dar Williams, make no mistake, and lately I've re-embraced my depressing anti-love songs like no other... Still... "After All", a song that's not even really about love (like "that") just shook me a bit. "Sugar Daddy" came after, and I just got some sort of anger in me. Something of a "Ah, god-dammit - now this song is going to remind me of him..." He "took" all the good songs... 'Cause he made me look at so many in new light. And now, well, the light's a little dimmer, but now I just reverse and diagnal lines and it's suddenly my life story ("Every pop song on the radio is suddenly speaking to me..." - Ani).
Ok, so, anyway - Diner! C'mon, you just try to be sad at the diner! Well, I didn't try. And mostly, I was successful. Diner was good, diner was fun, and Bohemian poetry ensued once again.
And then it was time to leave. However, before we got past the door, I got a hug from Allison (Allyson?) and she's a friend of Jake's. Bubbly and bright, she asked me how I was... Yeah, 5 days since Bloody Tuesday, but... how do you think I am? I asked her if she spoke to Jake, her eyes widened, her smile got kinda bashful and giggly: "Oh, yes I did!" Oh! Well, in that case, how amusing, I know! ::resists urge to shoot:: Well, she shrugs it off and smirks "Well, some things are meant to happen, some aren't".
::coldness sweeps. sweep, sweep, sweep. oh, the coldness::
Inside I felt like I felt shredded, but outside, not very convincingly probably, I shook my head and said in a sardonic tone, "Yeah, thanks, Ally, I'll keep that in mind." Flooding thoughts of absolute... Ack, I can't even figure it out. I hated it. I hated it.
Well, I made my way to Genevieve and Michael's car and we drove to Danielle's father's car. I was being driven home, and I felt so hollow. I barely felt Danielle's hand on mind, Lindsay's arm around me... Some satellite off course. I was aware of every moment, apart from every glance.
It was due. I've been very restrained since Tuesday. Tuesday was eyes welling up and then nothing. Wednesday was the same. Thursday I let 'em flow - and flow they did. Quietly. Friday I barely remember sleeping.
Here, I was collapsed. Wasted. I couldn't feel myself.
I somehow got to my front door, opened it, and got inside. For about four or five minutes I said stood in my kitchen. I don't even know if what I was thinking was coherent, as I don't remember any of it now. In any events, I guess my dog doesn't like crying, he was "supportive" in that go-forward-step-back kind of way, not sure what the hell was going on. Yeah, me too, Max.
I got to my room, removed clothing and sunk into my bed. No, wasn't going to happen. Downstairs - shower. Boiling to frozen streams didn't do much, removed the salt stains on my cheeks, but I just felt wet, not cleansed, as I assume my objective was.
Upstairs, underwear on, and quiet, jumbled screams and rants followed. Lots of "whys" I think. I was talking to myself, actually wishing that my words wuld find their way into his dreams, so he could wake me the fuck up. I hated it, I hated to not be able to hate him (though I know I said it), hated the fact that I loved him (though I know I said it), and might have even taken love in vain, cursing out the fact that I don't even know what we might've learned from one another. I was angry, desperate. I am not good when I am desperate. I felt so drained, despite the water bleeding from me... I ritualistically counted days, moments, probably even touches as I sweated and turned randomly on my sheets.
Now. Now I'm just alone here.
Well, honestly, the weekend was good. After slight cathings-of-breath-realizing kinda moments (I still have on the necklace Jake gave me, and with every movement, it continues to remind me he's no longer around in the same way), the show went on. I didn't feel as awkward as I did before. By the show's end, I was medium-happy. I'd prefer to have played Frank I realized early that night, as Brad just didn't cut it. It's hard to play vulnerable when you feel so utterly empty to begin with. I needed strength, no matter how false it was. In any event, I had an ok show. I had fun.
After the show, I went outside from the back to... nothing. I felt like such a pathetic cliche just standing still realizing "Oh, fuck!"... Yeah, he wasn't there. Even if he had been... Well, he just wasn't there.
So, ride to diner. I love Dar Williams, make no mistake, and lately I've re-embraced my depressing anti-love songs like no other... Still... "After All", a song that's not even really about love (like "that") just shook me a bit. "Sugar Daddy" came after, and I just got some sort of anger in me. Something of a "Ah, god-dammit - now this song is going to remind me of him..." He "took" all the good songs... 'Cause he made me look at so many in new light. And now, well, the light's a little dimmer, but now I just reverse and diagnal lines and it's suddenly my life story ("Every pop song on the radio is suddenly speaking to me..." - Ani).
Ok, so, anyway - Diner! C'mon, you just try to be sad at the diner! Well, I didn't try. And mostly, I was successful. Diner was good, diner was fun, and Bohemian poetry ensued once again.
And then it was time to leave. However, before we got past the door, I got a hug from Allison (Allyson?) and she's a friend of Jake's. Bubbly and bright, she asked me how I was... Yeah, 5 days since Bloody Tuesday, but... how do you think I am? I asked her if she spoke to Jake, her eyes widened, her smile got kinda bashful and giggly: "Oh, yes I did!" Oh! Well, in that case, how amusing, I know! ::resists urge to shoot:: Well, she shrugs it off and smirks "Well, some things are meant to happen, some aren't".
::coldness sweeps. sweep, sweep, sweep. oh, the coldness::
Inside I felt like I felt shredded, but outside, not very convincingly probably, I shook my head and said in a sardonic tone, "Yeah, thanks, Ally, I'll keep that in mind." Flooding thoughts of absolute... Ack, I can't even figure it out. I hated it. I hated it.
Well, I made my way to Genevieve and Michael's car and we drove to Danielle's father's car. I was being driven home, and I felt so hollow. I barely felt Danielle's hand on mind, Lindsay's arm around me... Some satellite off course. I was aware of every moment, apart from every glance.
It was due. I've been very restrained since Tuesday. Tuesday was eyes welling up and then nothing. Wednesday was the same. Thursday I let 'em flow - and flow they did. Quietly. Friday I barely remember sleeping.
Here, I was collapsed. Wasted. I couldn't feel myself.
I somehow got to my front door, opened it, and got inside. For about four or five minutes I said stood in my kitchen. I don't even know if what I was thinking was coherent, as I don't remember any of it now. In any events, I guess my dog doesn't like crying, he was "supportive" in that go-forward-step-back kind of way, not sure what the hell was going on. Yeah, me too, Max.
I got to my room, removed clothing and sunk into my bed. No, wasn't going to happen. Downstairs - shower. Boiling to frozen streams didn't do much, removed the salt stains on my cheeks, but I just felt wet, not cleansed, as I assume my objective was.
Upstairs, underwear on, and quiet, jumbled screams and rants followed. Lots of "whys" I think. I was talking to myself, actually wishing that my words wuld find their way into his dreams, so he could wake me the fuck up. I hated it, I hated to not be able to hate him (though I know I said it), hated the fact that I loved him (though I know I said it), and might have even taken love in vain, cursing out the fact that I don't even know what we might've learned from one another. I was angry, desperate. I am not good when I am desperate. I felt so drained, despite the water bleeding from me... I ritualistically counted days, moments, probably even touches as I sweated and turned randomly on my sheets.
Now. Now I'm just alone here.