Let's expose the devil and his many advocates, just for one bare brief moment.
Let's say Bridget is pressured. Get better. Do it fast, do it now. Play pretend-normal. Life goes on. Take the pills, finish them up. Come on, girl! Leave therapy behind. Make your friends pick sides while they figure out what the fuck to do with your former domineering husband dead and your new husband one of them, formerly less sweet as he tried to usurp Cole. Watch as they get into actual grownup fist-fights over you, over nothing at all. Refuse to talk to most of them. Fight off older brother of dead husband repeatedly (because, the headgames he has played with me for DECADES). Sell cute little sportscar against wishes of people who don't have a say in that kind of thing. Make a few passing references to not being in charge willingly and lead everyone to call your new marriage some sort of sugar-coated incestuous power trip for someone but not for you (that was rich).
Have two treasured trusted friends who remain who will relay these awful character-destroying conversations and letters so that I can see exactly what is black and what is white. Boy was I surprised.
Oops, I almost forgot the whole keep Bridget heavily medicated and unreachable because that makes it easier to control her over all, no?
How am I doing?
Ben, Caleb, Robin. Mark...I don't even understand anymore. I didn't realize when I stopped being the x-rated entertainment that I would become their comic relief. Fodder for their own insecurities. I didn't ask for any of this.
Loch, PJ, Chris and Jake are it now.
Friday 1 December 2006
Thursday 30 November 2006
Unwritten.
Hey. Good morning. Rest assured, I'm not having a nervous breakdown. I haven't written about much of the latest news at all, looking back because I was hoping it would all magically disappear. I feel like I'm losing what few friends I have left and they may have all been fucked up and had their own hidden agendas but is that better than having no friends left at all or not?
I can't decide. But what people don't understand is that they ARE my family here.
(I'm not saying my friends are causing my problems, let's just say they're heaping it on thick and I'm not strong to start with. So maybe I am saying this is their fault. I have no idea.)
But what was decided for me is that it was too soon to stop talking about everything, it was too soon to stop taking pills, it was too soon to stay up late, to skip meals and to fight with people. It was too soon for me to try to pretend that everything was fine and dandy and it came back and bit me in the ass. I'm not in control anymore because it's better if you just lead Bridget by the hand. She'll come, she's just going to need a very soft touch for a bit.
But I am still spoiled. Jake brought a tray with coffee and toast and my laptop upstairs and I can read and sleep and browse the internet and write if I want to or not and he's going to take the kids to school. They came in to kiss me goodbye and I told them I was feeling really tired and I didn't want to get really sick again.
And surprisingly I don't feel like I'm going to shatter today.
But I'm not allowed to answer the phone either, so your mileage may vary.
I can't decide. But what people don't understand is that they ARE my family here.
(I'm not saying my friends are causing my problems, let's just say they're heaping it on thick and I'm not strong to start with. So maybe I am saying this is their fault. I have no idea.)
But what was decided for me is that it was too soon to stop talking about everything, it was too soon to stop taking pills, it was too soon to stay up late, to skip meals and to fight with people. It was too soon for me to try to pretend that everything was fine and dandy and it came back and bit me in the ass. I'm not in control anymore because it's better if you just lead Bridget by the hand. She'll come, she's just going to need a very soft touch for a bit.
But I am still spoiled. Jake brought a tray with coffee and toast and my laptop upstairs and I can read and sleep and browse the internet and write if I want to or not and he's going to take the kids to school. They came in to kiss me goodbye and I told them I was feeling really tired and I didn't want to get really sick again.
And surprisingly I don't feel like I'm going to shatter today.
But I'm not allowed to answer the phone either, so your mileage may vary.
Wednesday 29 November 2006
Here. Finally.
Jacob found a sitter for Henry this afternoon as soon as I opened my mouth.
Then he put my coat on me and took me out to the truck and put my seatbelt on me, like a child. He didn't say anything. When we parked, he took me by the hand and brought me inside, then again, took my coat off me and steered me by the shoulders straight into the office, no waiting, no bullshit. He said he wasn't going to take any chances, I brought up the very worst day of his life and he refuses to let me be in this kind of pain without doing everything he can to fix me. With help. With a whole team. He has connections, I had no idea. I came away with a plan, I came away knowing all of the factors which contributed to today's abrupt and frightening turn and I came away with more pills. Very strong happy pills. Which Jacob held up in front of me and he forced my chin up until my eyes were two inches from the bottle and he said, quite simply:
These you're going to take. Every single day. Because they keep me from being scared. I know you won't do it for you, so you're going to do it for us.
My teeth were chattering from shock because his voice was ragged from fear. From exhaustion. Because again I pushed myself, us and I was beyond overtired and hungry and slightly shaken by a lot of things lately and dealing with my usual depleted emotional strength and we both missed it in our joy of normal life at last. Or whatever that brief respite was.
My team (ha, that's funny) says a little backsliding is normal (ha)with new stresses and changes in a recent trauma victim and someone battling chemical imbalances as it is. They say it will get better but not for a long time. They say I need to not pretend things are great when they're not. They say that I must not push myself. That I need sleep, food, and medication. They also say I'm not to be left alone again for a while because the straight-laced logical part of me still refuses to say things that will make everyone comfortable. I told Jacob I was sorry and I told him that I love him and I'm not leaving without him but everyone else can go to hell. He laughed and said they sure could and he expects the promise to be made when we catch our breath.
I'm doing my best here. And I'm sorry for scaring everyone. Hell, I scared myself and I called out to him for help. I'm learning, guys.
Loch is coming for the weekend, bless his heart, since Jake has to work a bit, and I'll have all kinds of good influences present.
When we got home I was led into the house and my coat was taken off and then I was enveloped in the longest, hardest hug I have ever had, followed by Jacob pressing his lips against my forehead in a kiss that steamed up my eyelids. My god that felt so fucking good.
Because for once, he was here right when he needed to be.
He was here.
Jake.
Then he put my coat on me and took me out to the truck and put my seatbelt on me, like a child. He didn't say anything. When we parked, he took me by the hand and brought me inside, then again, took my coat off me and steered me by the shoulders straight into the office, no waiting, no bullshit. He said he wasn't going to take any chances, I brought up the very worst day of his life and he refuses to let me be in this kind of pain without doing everything he can to fix me. With help. With a whole team. He has connections, I had no idea. I came away with a plan, I came away knowing all of the factors which contributed to today's abrupt and frightening turn and I came away with more pills. Very strong happy pills. Which Jacob held up in front of me and he forced my chin up until my eyes were two inches from the bottle and he said, quite simply:
These you're going to take. Every single day. Because they keep me from being scared. I know you won't do it for you, so you're going to do it for us.
My teeth were chattering from shock because his voice was ragged from fear. From exhaustion. Because again I pushed myself, us and I was beyond overtired and hungry and slightly shaken by a lot of things lately and dealing with my usual depleted emotional strength and we both missed it in our joy of normal life at last. Or whatever that brief respite was.
My team (ha, that's funny) says a little backsliding is normal (ha)with new stresses and changes in a recent trauma victim and someone battling chemical imbalances as it is. They say it will get better but not for a long time. They say I need to not pretend things are great when they're not. They say that I must not push myself. That I need sleep, food, and medication. They also say I'm not to be left alone again for a while because the straight-laced logical part of me still refuses to say things that will make everyone comfortable. I told Jacob I was sorry and I told him that I love him and I'm not leaving without him but everyone else can go to hell. He laughed and said they sure could and he expects the promise to be made when we catch our breath.
I'm doing my best here. And I'm sorry for scaring everyone. Hell, I scared myself and I called out to him for help. I'm learning, guys.
Loch is coming for the weekend, bless his heart, since Jake has to work a bit, and I'll have all kinds of good influences present.
When we got home I was led into the house and my coat was taken off and then I was enveloped in the longest, hardest hug I have ever had, followed by Jacob pressing his lips against my forehead in a kiss that steamed up my eyelids. My god that felt so fucking good.
Because for once, he was here right when he needed to be.
He was here.
Jake.
Slide. rule.
Right. Downhill all the way now. I shouldn't be trying to write and so I stopped. Again.
In behind the front, the flippant, confident inventor of so many silly similes and poetic waxer of cake, lies me. Just Bridget, flaky girl of extremes and irreparably messed up in the head. Coexisting with my own inner monster is sometimes a real fucking bitch.
Nothing changes with that. I started with it. It's still here.
Jacob may care a whole lot more. He's epic in his own right and I'm the luckiest person in the world. But he asks for a promise I can't make still.
(this is where you can go and search my journal for eggshells or unspoken history and you'll see what I mean, I'm not reading that again.)
Bridget. I need you to give me that. I need to know.
I shook my head. I'm not going to make a promise I'm never sure I'll keep. That would be foolish. I can't lie to him.
Tread carefully, Jakey. And I love you even if sometimes I lie and say I don't just to protect you from me.
It must be hard to live with me. I find it easy because if it gets too hard, then I don't have to do it anymore at all. I thought that maybe since it got so hard already that he wouldn't be so afraid but I was wrong.
And still, I shook my head because I can't make it.
He told me he was going to get help for me because this isn't how I'm supposed to be. I hope he keeps his promise because I'm afraid of myself today. I hate this.
In behind the front, the flippant, confident inventor of so many silly similes and poetic waxer of cake, lies me. Just Bridget, flaky girl of extremes and irreparably messed up in the head. Coexisting with my own inner monster is sometimes a real fucking bitch.
Nothing changes with that. I started with it. It's still here.
Jacob may care a whole lot more. He's epic in his own right and I'm the luckiest person in the world. But he asks for a promise I can't make still.
(this is where you can go and search my journal for eggshells or unspoken history and you'll see what I mean, I'm not reading that again.)
Bridget. I need you to give me that. I need to know.
I shook my head. I'm not going to make a promise I'm never sure I'll keep. That would be foolish. I can't lie to him.
Tread carefully, Jakey. And I love you even if sometimes I lie and say I don't just to protect you from me.
It must be hard to live with me. I find it easy because if it gets too hard, then I don't have to do it anymore at all. I thought that maybe since it got so hard already that he wouldn't be so afraid but I was wrong.
And still, I shook my head because I can't make it.
He told me he was going to get help for me because this isn't how I'm supposed to be. I hope he keeps his promise because I'm afraid of myself today. I hate this.
Tears and mortar.
I think this house is causing problems.
It's a beautiful house.
Cole only lived here for exactly eight months and yet it's just full of him, with none of his things left, save for what the kids have. His visage, his imprint is somehow still here, hell, I don't know if it's the house. Maybe it's me. Why wouldn't he had an imprint on me just like his handprint was on me for so long. It was twenty years. It's been five months since he died and that's all. That's nothing. It was just in March when we stopped trying at all. No, I stopped trying. He continued on his self-destructive path without me. March was not so long ago and now even with so many changes and upsets and therapies, it's fresh and it hurts like so much hell.
I'm not sure if we're moving or simply disintegrating.
Once he was feeling generous or sad, I'm not sure which. It was one of the few more recent times when I was being cold, he hated that. I wasn't letting him into my brain or under my skin and perhaps he had a moment of regret, a twinge of a wish. I have no idea. He looked at me and he told me that if anything ever happened to him, to ask Jake for help with anything I needed. That Jacob was a good man and he would look after us and he had been around so long, so many years, that Cole knew he would hold true to his convictions.
I know.
No, seriously, Bridge, he's been there. Ask him for help, no one else.
Are you dying, Cole?
Everyone is going to die someday, baby.
Not you.
Even me.
I'll go first.
That's not even funny today, princess.
It's not supposed to be.
Just promise me.
Done.
Should I expect to be poisoned slowly now?
You should have suspected that all along.
He laughed softly and just looked at me for a moment like he had all the regret in the world. I'm left now wondering if he knew his heart was going to explode or if he sensed something. If he did he either told no one or no one is going to give up his secrets and I'll wonder this as long as I live. Or I could call it simple fate, or God's Big Rescue Plan for me with the help of his favorite wayward angel. I don't know. All I know is that it was times like that one that make me hate his memory less.
It's a beautiful house.
Cole only lived here for exactly eight months and yet it's just full of him, with none of his things left, save for what the kids have. His visage, his imprint is somehow still here, hell, I don't know if it's the house. Maybe it's me. Why wouldn't he had an imprint on me just like his handprint was on me for so long. It was twenty years. It's been five months since he died and that's all. That's nothing. It was just in March when we stopped trying at all. No, I stopped trying. He continued on his self-destructive path without me. March was not so long ago and now even with so many changes and upsets and therapies, it's fresh and it hurts like so much hell.
I'm not sure if we're moving or simply disintegrating.
Once he was feeling generous or sad, I'm not sure which. It was one of the few more recent times when I was being cold, he hated that. I wasn't letting him into my brain or under my skin and perhaps he had a moment of regret, a twinge of a wish. I have no idea. He looked at me and he told me that if anything ever happened to him, to ask Jake for help with anything I needed. That Jacob was a good man and he would look after us and he had been around so long, so many years, that Cole knew he would hold true to his convictions.
I know.
No, seriously, Bridge, he's been there. Ask him for help, no one else.
Are you dying, Cole?
Everyone is going to die someday, baby.
Not you.
Even me.
I'll go first.
That's not even funny today, princess.
It's not supposed to be.
Just promise me.
Done.
Should I expect to be poisoned slowly now?
You should have suspected that all along.
He laughed softly and just looked at me for a moment like he had all the regret in the world. I'm left now wondering if he knew his heart was going to explode or if he sensed something. If he did he either told no one or no one is going to give up his secrets and I'll wonder this as long as I live. Or I could call it simple fate, or God's Big Rescue Plan for me with the help of his favorite wayward angel. I don't know. All I know is that it was times like that one that make me hate his memory less.
An excuse to make excuses.
Hey.
Hi, Bridget.
Caleb. Hi.
Please don't be impressed on my account.
Oh, I'm not, trust me.
Can I just explain? Please?
I don't think any of it matters, Caleb.
I would like a chance to defend my character. Now, don't say anything. I'll be in town before the weekend for a meeting and I'd like to stop by and drop off some Christmas presents for the kids and say hello to you anyway if that's okay. I promise you'll understand when I explain why I contacted Ben. Please, Bridget, just trust me.
Fine, just please try to call before you come over.
I'll do my best. Thanks, Bridge. Look, it's been a while and I...
Don't. Please.
Oh, I can't WAIT to hear his excuses.
Hi, Bridget.
Caleb. Hi.
Please don't be impressed on my account.
Oh, I'm not, trust me.
Can I just explain? Please?
I don't think any of it matters, Caleb.
I would like a chance to defend my character. Now, don't say anything. I'll be in town before the weekend for a meeting and I'd like to stop by and drop off some Christmas presents for the kids and say hello to you anyway if that's okay. I promise you'll understand when I explain why I contacted Ben. Please, Bridget, just trust me.
Fine, just please try to call before you come over.
I'll do my best. Thanks, Bridge. Look, it's been a while and I...
Don't. Please.
Oh, I can't WAIT to hear his excuses.
Tuesday 28 November 2006
He only lies to be kind.
Princess!
Yes, Jake?
How many times are you going to play that song?
Until I figure out the notes!
Oh, my dear God.
What? (I heard him, I just wondered if he'd repeat it.)
Nothing! Sounds good, baby.
Yes, Jake?
How many times are you going to play that song?
Until I figure out the notes!
Oh, my dear God.
What? (I heard him, I just wondered if he'd repeat it.)
Nothing! Sounds good, baby.
Crumbs for breakfast.
I think I'd prefer to wait until the latest event plays itself out and then I'll eviscerate everyone involved right here for fun. It sure isn't as pretty as I like to call myself. Or maybe I'll share it later when I have it figured out. I'm still thinking this morning.
Instead I'll reach into my mailbag. The Friendly Giant used to have a mailbag on his TV show when I was Henry's age. Jacob's other nickname (after Preacher Boy) is Friendly Giant thanks to his towering blonde stature and giant hands and feet (shhhh, perverts!) and mostly easygoing nature (hockey notwithstanding).
I'm going to do a random grab of things you've asked recently. I'll leave your names out, being the guilty pleasure that I am. Here are the questions that have been asked by more than one person:
What's your favorite post?
I have three (you can search in the bar, the links are all there):
1-Public Declarations, because it represents what normal used to be. Normal, happy. Before Cole self-destructed. When we all had our shit still together, or something.
2-Because All I do is Talk, because this conversation shows Jacob at his most heart-rending (to me, I don't even know why) and it's the only time I feel like I've ever gotten that across in writing.
3-Life Very Quietly, because it still pains me to read it and I'm a masochist. I'm not but I shiver when I read it. It's on the mark.
If you notice none of these are the big Event posts, like Jacob's proposal or any of our anniversaries, it's because there was never any way in hell I could adequately describe those days and nights here. In truth, they didn't translate well at all to a page and do better shining in my mind.
What's Jacob's favorite post?
I'll ask him and get back to you on that. I don't even know the answer to that one.
Coasting, because he loves the way I wrote of the wind undoing my braids and the way I described his home planet.
What's your favorite song?
Oh please. Forty Six & 2 by Tool. Though I keep listening to 9 Crimes by Damien Rice over and over today so I can figure out the piano by ear (new talent! if I can hear it maybe I can play it! Weee!)
What's your favorite drink?
Jack Daniels, just plain, in a glass. Hell, from the bottle. I never claimed to be a sophisticated drinker, though I'm not doing that so much anymore anyway.
When does Jacob start his new job?
Not until the fall, unfortunately. August 2007. He's anxious but it's a long ways off. He has trimmed down the number of hours he spends counseling and doing pastoral care, because he has already begun his work as a chaplain. There is no difference only this feeds the whole little-boy-captivated-by-lights-and-sirens-and rushing-around gene.
What won't you write about?
That list is miles long. I don't do so much politics, current events, or news. I'm not exactly worldly. I won't name drop if I know anyone famous. This is not a mommy blog, though sometimes I like to write about the kids but I keep it sparing. I don't name place names so much, I try to leave Jacob's innocent family out of direct mention, and if he asks me not to write about something specific, I won't. There are lines I won't cross out of respect for my husband.
Oh and Cole's genius/madness is censored right down to the bare minimum. I have said only what everyone else can handle. There is no point in freaking the fuck out of everyone I love, he's gone. What's the point? And because Jacob loses it just a little more each time he finds out something else.
Why do you swear so much?
Habit. I always have. Not alot of words but a good 'fuck' can be descriptive. It's satisfying. Shock value for my mother. I have no idea. I was told that I write in a weird, buttoned-up, uptight, intimidating manner in which I appear smart, and the only thing keeping me approachable is all the swearing. Nice. Lord knows, Bridget isn't so smart. I don't talk like this, I only write like this. If you heard me talk, you would laugh. I stutter when I'm very tired, I mispronounce a lot, I just plain miss a lot, I can't find the words I want unless I'm writing them down and it's really frustrating for others. It's hard to explain. I was a bit stunned when people expressed surprise that I write the way I do here.
What's with the song lyrics?
Without the stupid hearing aids, I can't hear songs so much as I feel them first, unless they are played loud. I would feel a song, go and look up the lyrics and study them and then decide if I liked the song. I fall in love with songs in reverse of the way most people would, as a result and I'm fascinated by the ways a song can create emotions in the listener, much the same way writing can. I'm not trying to be 'emo'. (I had to look that up. Jesus, people).
Do you have any female friends?
About as many as you would imagine, a few here and there but no one really close. I would have said a couple of years ago that men play less head games, but now I'm not so sure. I had one very close no-bullshit girlfriend but she died many years ago and I lost interest in seeking out new ones. Besides, Jake filled the void for a very long time. He still does.
What's your favorite color?
Green. You'd think it would be blue, teal, aquamarine. It's not. It's Celadon, Moss, celery, olive, not so much mint, but most of the slateish shades of green between. Not forest green but pine. I'm picky on greens.
What is your real height? How tall is Jacob?
I know I lie about this all the time. Why I couldn't be a 5'7" supermodel is beyond my grasp. I'm exactly five feet tall but I usually say 5'2". Why? I have no idea. Perhaps it's deep-seated baggage from this equation:
Very short + Named Bridget = Midget.
Happy now? Jacob is 6'4" possibly taller. That's what his driver's license says but he can't squish himself into my little car to drive it so I would say closer to 6'5". When he hugs me really hard just about everything cracks. And...
No, I'll stop there for now...
Instead I'll reach into my mailbag. The Friendly Giant used to have a mailbag on his TV show when I was Henry's age. Jacob's other nickname (after Preacher Boy) is Friendly Giant thanks to his towering blonde stature and giant hands and feet (shhhh, perverts!) and mostly easygoing nature (hockey notwithstanding).
I'm going to do a random grab of things you've asked recently. I'll leave your names out, being the guilty pleasure that I am. Here are the questions that have been asked by more than one person:
What's your favorite post?
I have three (you can search in the bar, the links are all there):
1-Public Declarations, because it represents what normal used to be. Normal, happy. Before Cole self-destructed. When we all had our shit still together, or something.
2-Because All I do is Talk, because this conversation shows Jacob at his most heart-rending (to me, I don't even know why) and it's the only time I feel like I've ever gotten that across in writing.
3-Life Very Quietly, because it still pains me to read it and I'm a masochist. I'm not but I shiver when I read it. It's on the mark.
If you notice none of these are the big Event posts, like Jacob's proposal or any of our anniversaries, it's because there was never any way in hell I could adequately describe those days and nights here. In truth, they didn't translate well at all to a page and do better shining in my mind.
What's Jacob's favorite post?
I'll ask him and get back to you on that. I don't even know the answer to that one.
Coasting, because he loves the way I wrote of the wind undoing my braids and the way I described his home planet.
What's your favorite song?
Oh please. Forty Six & 2 by Tool. Though I keep listening to 9 Crimes by Damien Rice over and over today so I can figure out the piano by ear (new talent! if I can hear it maybe I can play it! Weee!)
What's your favorite drink?
Jack Daniels, just plain, in a glass. Hell, from the bottle. I never claimed to be a sophisticated drinker, though I'm not doing that so much anymore anyway.
When does Jacob start his new job?
Not until the fall, unfortunately. August 2007. He's anxious but it's a long ways off. He has trimmed down the number of hours he spends counseling and doing pastoral care, because he has already begun his work as a chaplain. There is no difference only this feeds the whole little-boy-captivated-by-lights-and-sirens-and rushing-around gene.
What won't you write about?
That list is miles long. I don't do so much politics, current events, or news. I'm not exactly worldly. I won't name drop if I know anyone famous. This is not a mommy blog, though sometimes I like to write about the kids but I keep it sparing. I don't name place names so much, I try to leave Jacob's innocent family out of direct mention, and if he asks me not to write about something specific, I won't. There are lines I won't cross out of respect for my husband.
Oh and Cole's genius/madness is censored right down to the bare minimum. I have said only what everyone else can handle. There is no point in freaking the fuck out of everyone I love, he's gone. What's the point? And because Jacob loses it just a little more each time he finds out something else.
Why do you swear so much?
Habit. I always have. Not alot of words but a good 'fuck' can be descriptive. It's satisfying. Shock value for my mother. I have no idea. I was told that I write in a weird, buttoned-up, uptight, intimidating manner in which I appear smart, and the only thing keeping me approachable is all the swearing. Nice. Lord knows, Bridget isn't so smart. I don't talk like this, I only write like this. If you heard me talk, you would laugh. I stutter when I'm very tired, I mispronounce a lot, I just plain miss a lot, I can't find the words I want unless I'm writing them down and it's really frustrating for others. It's hard to explain. I was a bit stunned when people expressed surprise that I write the way I do here.
What's with the song lyrics?
Without the stupid hearing aids, I can't hear songs so much as I feel them first, unless they are played loud. I would feel a song, go and look up the lyrics and study them and then decide if I liked the song. I fall in love with songs in reverse of the way most people would, as a result and I'm fascinated by the ways a song can create emotions in the listener, much the same way writing can. I'm not trying to be 'emo'. (I had to look that up. Jesus, people).
Do you have any female friends?
About as many as you would imagine, a few here and there but no one really close. I would have said a couple of years ago that men play less head games, but now I'm not so sure. I had one very close no-bullshit girlfriend but she died many years ago and I lost interest in seeking out new ones. Besides, Jake filled the void for a very long time. He still does.
What's your favorite color?
Green. You'd think it would be blue, teal, aquamarine. It's not. It's Celadon, Moss, celery, olive, not so much mint, but most of the slateish shades of green between. Not forest green but pine. I'm picky on greens.
What is your real height? How tall is Jacob?
I know I lie about this all the time. Why I couldn't be a 5'7" supermodel is beyond my grasp. I'm exactly five feet tall but I usually say 5'2". Why? I have no idea. Perhaps it's deep-seated baggage from this equation:
Very short + Named Bridget = Midget.
Happy now? Jacob is 6'4" possibly taller. That's what his driver's license says but he can't squish himself into my little car to drive it so I would say closer to 6'5". When he hugs me really hard just about everything cracks. And...
No, I'll stop there for now...
Monday 27 November 2006
Burning Bridget at the stake.
So for what it's worth I have enemies now. Real ones that aren't just little Bridget with her big imagination.
Ben and Caleb have opted to join forces to try to...irritate me to death? I'm not sure. Caleb called Ben to talk about me. He had questions and instead of just asking me he decided to dig around. And Ben knows everything. Well, almost everything and now it seems he's got a new best friend.
Should I be worried?
Ben seemed smug. Jacob is concerned. Which makes Ben more smug and Caleb even more curious. Ben and Caleb have been spending far too much time together, I'd wager. This makes me laugh. This is absurd. For two people I have pushed out of my life out of necessity they sure are causing a ruckus.
When you guys are done with the high school payback attempts, let me know. And pardon me for trying to leave the trouble behind. Because that's what you both are, trouble. Caleb, I can't even believe you're stooping to this level. Whatever you're looking for, it isn't there, sweetie. And if you're just interested as a way to get to know me and learn everything you can, well, you're too little too late. When I was twenty you could have had me, I would have thrown Cole over for you in a heartbeat.
But thanks for feigning interest in my heart all the same.
I don't know what more I can say. I don't need this. How can I leave this alone? My ears are positively burning.
Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
To be thinking of you
It's the wrong time
For somebody new
It's a small crime
And I've got no excuse
Is that alright
Give my gun away when it's loaded
that alright with you
If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it
Ben and Caleb have opted to join forces to try to...irritate me to death? I'm not sure. Caleb called Ben to talk about me. He had questions and instead of just asking me he decided to dig around. And Ben knows everything. Well, almost everything and now it seems he's got a new best friend.
Should I be worried?
Ben seemed smug. Jacob is concerned. Which makes Ben more smug and Caleb even more curious. Ben and Caleb have been spending far too much time together, I'd wager. This makes me laugh. This is absurd. For two people I have pushed out of my life out of necessity they sure are causing a ruckus.
When you guys are done with the high school payback attempts, let me know. And pardon me for trying to leave the trouble behind. Because that's what you both are, trouble. Caleb, I can't even believe you're stooping to this level. Whatever you're looking for, it isn't there, sweetie. And if you're just interested as a way to get to know me and learn everything you can, well, you're too little too late. When I was twenty you could have had me, I would have thrown Cole over for you in a heartbeat.
But thanks for feigning interest in my heart all the same.
I don't know what more I can say. I don't need this. How can I leave this alone? My ears are positively burning.
Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
To be thinking of you
It's the wrong time
For somebody new
It's a small crime
And I've got no excuse
Is that alright
Give my gun away when it's loaded
that alright with you
If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it
Disillusionment.
Have you ever been fed lines that sound so deep and beautiful and raw and honest that you fall for it hook, line and sinker? You proclaim the speaker of the lines to be a unique, precious charm in the otherwise pretty but dull costume jewelry bracelet that is your universe and you reserve large portions of time and brain power to the challenging and introspective conversations you actually look forward to now.
My weakness, I'll admit.
Then they go and behave like a total asshole and you discover that they're a fake and a fraud and a total charlatan. They lied, and that the conversations you were having weren't unique or deep or even introspective, they were a front for an image that was carefully, cleverly cultivated. Their words were just enough to leave you with a sense that they were just like you, with fears and failures and hopes and then you find out it's a front for some good old fashioned shallow bullshit. They're just like everyone else, and they were seeking out you in a way that would get your attention.
They got my attention with the imaginary neon lights over my head now that proclaims USED in capital fucking letters.
Jacob tells me to leave it. To be nice, to let it go and continue with the status-quo but really I'm having a hard time finding my nice for this particular person now. I was used and I hate this feeling. Someone fed off my sweetness and took it away just a little in the process. And they turned in their deceit for anger, at me. I did nothing wrong here. For once. Except I'm guilty of an unusual level of naivety because I believed it. He fit in so well. I should have known it was all a front.
A lesson for that friend would be not lying and not trying to be someone you're not.
A lesson for Bridget would be not to be a sucker for a pretty face and a soulful exchange.
But really, who isn't? Everyone I know is victim to that same weakness, wanting to be around the pretty ones and yet I don't put on a front. They know they're getting a slightly kooky, very brittle, somewhat kind and outwardly confident fun girl with some...issues. I'm not pretending. It's not a put-on (despite popular opinion), there's going to be no massive letdown for them in the end when I show myself because I was here all along. If anything I will prove to be less sure of myself then they suspected and I don't think that's going to come as any huge surprise.
My mistakes are in full view, my choices picked apart and evaluated and I have been judged and I continue to be judged and it's fairly kind, all things considered. And if you talk to me I'm not going to feed you lines. What is the point?
Did you want to be near me that badly that you had to pretend you were someone you're not?
stones taught me to fly
love taught me to cry
so come on courage
teach me to be shy
cause it's not hard to fall
and I don't wanna scare her
it's not hard to fall
and I don't wanna lose
My weakness, I'll admit.
Then they go and behave like a total asshole and you discover that they're a fake and a fraud and a total charlatan. They lied, and that the conversations you were having weren't unique or deep or even introspective, they were a front for an image that was carefully, cleverly cultivated. Their words were just enough to leave you with a sense that they were just like you, with fears and failures and hopes and then you find out it's a front for some good old fashioned shallow bullshit. They're just like everyone else, and they were seeking out you in a way that would get your attention.
They got my attention with the imaginary neon lights over my head now that proclaims USED in capital fucking letters.
Jacob tells me to leave it. To be nice, to let it go and continue with the status-quo but really I'm having a hard time finding my nice for this particular person now. I was used and I hate this feeling. Someone fed off my sweetness and took it away just a little in the process. And they turned in their deceit for anger, at me. I did nothing wrong here. For once. Except I'm guilty of an unusual level of naivety because I believed it. He fit in so well. I should have known it was all a front.
A lesson for that friend would be not lying and not trying to be someone you're not.
A lesson for Bridget would be not to be a sucker for a pretty face and a soulful exchange.
But really, who isn't? Everyone I know is victim to that same weakness, wanting to be around the pretty ones and yet I don't put on a front. They know they're getting a slightly kooky, very brittle, somewhat kind and outwardly confident fun girl with some...issues. I'm not pretending. It's not a put-on (despite popular opinion), there's going to be no massive letdown for them in the end when I show myself because I was here all along. If anything I will prove to be less sure of myself then they suspected and I don't think that's going to come as any huge surprise.
My mistakes are in full view, my choices picked apart and evaluated and I have been judged and I continue to be judged and it's fairly kind, all things considered. And if you talk to me I'm not going to feed you lines. What is the point?
Did you want to be near me that badly that you had to pretend you were someone you're not?
stones taught me to fly
love taught me to cry
so come on courage
teach me to be shy
cause it's not hard to fall
and I don't wanna scare her
it's not hard to fall
and I don't wanna lose
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