Metallurgy

Guy 1: "One day, you will be rewarded for that heart of gold that you own."

Guy 2: "You are extraordinary."

This week, I heard that.
Of course I cried.
I cried because I don't feel extraordinary.
I cried because deep in my heart I KNOW I won't be "rewarded." My heart is not gold, or titanium, or even iron-- it's coal... an energy source which is consumed for the generation of cooler shit.

I cried because I had never taken the time to notice how convinced I am of the contrary of what I am being told.

Some days I can laugh and smile and joke around...
Other days I just want to curl up into a ball under the covers, and cry until my eyes swell shut... those days I just want to be invisible.

I feel like garbage.
I want to be numb again.

It's a trap

The word was "Ethnic Cleansing" and it won.
"Sorry, AnoMALIE, but... looks like you're out."

...
I swear, this girl is crazy. Each time, each and every time she has some passive-aggressive, sort-of inappropriate, incendiary comment to toss my way.

Ohhhhh girl...
This is how I know I'm going to purgatory, and not straight to hell... because while I could take the easy way out and just knock this girl out, I just blush, smile, look at the floor, and tell myself she doesn't know what she's doing.

I also feel validated in seeing how the rest of the room does not find her comments hilarious... but rather out of line. They sit there in irritated silence... and keep the party going.

"___. It's a trap!" was my card...
The answer that made the entire room roar with laughter, and thus I felt compelled to select as a winner?
"My vagina."
Musketeer, homegirl's hubby, was the one responsible for that response.
We were all laughing pretty loudly... then, OF COURSE, homegirl has to interrupt.
"Well, IS IT?" she asked.
"A trap?" I ask.
I shrugged.
"Awww... I think your face says it all."

??
Why, man? I have to laugh and wonder why of all people, I always seem to be the one others choose to randomly hate.
I'm sighing so hard right now. Sigh sigh sigh.

No, really, get me some purple capris already

I've been a strange combination of an angry AND sad mess these last few weeks.
If I'm not crying in the fucking dark like some unstable creepy idiot, I'm taking deep breaths and counting to a billion in hopes of not breaking shit all over the place.
I'm in that scary angry stage where I feel I can crush shit with my bare hands... all fucking Hulk 'n shit.
I'm not even taking any meds or PMSing or ANYTHING I can blame... I'm just really fucking frustrated and fed up with people's behavior. People are REALLY fucking pissing me off... BADLY.
I need Vicodin or some shit... a fucking dart to the neck like some goddamn rhino.

Since I'm so anti drugs (mainly because I have a WILDLY addictive personality and I know once I pick something up, I'll beat it to death [figuratively speaking]--- which in the case of drugs would undeniably result in MY death... which I guess I wouldn't mind, but I sense it would be a painful crazy fucking death, so yeah, no, let's avoid that shit, yeah?) and I'm cheap as fuck... I don't pay for counseling OR drugs, so I resort to easy shit... like drawing... and long baths where I just sit in the fucking tub without thinking a damn fucking thing beyond "Goddamn.... I HATE this fucking tub!"
And I'll listen to HOURS of classical music.

... now that I think about it, this sounds like shit serial killers enjoy. Umm... uh... hmmm.
Sad.

I haven't even grocery shopped in weeks. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I FUCKING LOVE GROCERY SHOPPING?
Ugh.
Stress sucks dick.

I want to be normal.
And not cry all the fucking time like some weak pussy.
God.

Well, this was of no help.
I'm sorry guys... I'll be better in a few... hours... after I eat and lay like a corpse on my bed... listening to Bach and Strauss and Chopin and all that shit that makes me calm, like a peaceful bunny.

Todo para que?

Wasting away.
Pining.
Lost cause.
Game over.
Hope, gone.
Defeat.

No sirve de nada...

All of it, I was thinking all of that and more here.
I caught a glimpse of myself on my camera, and immediately felt my heart break.

Multitudinous-- the meanings to this year's costume.

It earned me a number of compliments... even a handsome legit military, country gentleman was trying to get me to flirt... and as always, I froze and turned catatonic. I tugged up on my dress until I gave myself a rash.

"Even as a corpse you look stunning."
Thank you... but I don't feel it... and quite frankly, it no longer matters... it never did.

"Is your Romeo showing up later?"
No sir... not at all.

Podría ser todo suyo, solo suyo, y no lo quiso. Que más da?

Te Pertenece

This drama with the pigs I've been dealing with recently... you'd think I'd be able to keep my mind busy.

And it had been busy... I had been good... so very good.

I wouldn't think... I wouldn't... I wouldn't miss. I wouldn't wonder. I wouldn't daydream. 

I just lived.

But this time of year, it always has, and always will, resuscitate the ghosts I try to forget.

Halloween for AnoMALIE is owned by one person, and one person alone.

And so I remember him. He comes to mind. With everything that is associated with this holiday. At all hours of the day... mercilessly on the actual day.

I remember his smile, and his eyes when he smiles-- it's probably my favorite thing in the world. I think of... everything I've ever heard him say.

And I miss him.

Now I can even add missing how his hand feels on my waist.

I miss his sarcastic little comments... even miss seeing his nails painted black back in the day.

I had been good. I had been good at keeping any and all thoughts and memories of him locked. Any and all feelings for him subdued. Numb.

I hardly spent any time wondering what he might have done in the day... or if he had at all looked up at the stars at night... or if he even COULD see the stars at night that day. How many times did he smile? I wonder if anyone aggravated the fucking shit out of him today... How many jokes did he crack? How many times did he smile... ?

But not today. Today... this past week... the memory of him has been haunting... reminding me. I have caught myself thinking such thoughts... wondering such things as I go about my daily routine. I catch myself smiling when I think of his cute mannerism... his peculiar walk... and I catch myself frowning when I catch myself remembering all the things that made me like him... when I catch myself remembering him so fondly.

Here I am, being consumed by this... weird, stupid shit... and he's out there living a pretty damn cool life... with me not even being a motherfucking blip on the screen.

But alas... I don't care about this... about not being an afterthought in his world, while he is the main attraction, the star of my show.

Fact of the matter is, ever since I met him, this day belongs to that boy. That dark, alluring, intriguing, interesting, sarcastic, cynical boy I met nine years ago. The boy with the dark, curly hair, black nail polish... and sly, sometimes sardonic, smile.

And it makes me smile.