A Cat in the Bag Waiting to Drown: July 2005

My Heart for the Girl With The Hook and My Mind For The Girl With The Mismatched Eyes

It's another one of those days where you know you're tired and you have to sleep but all you can do is lie in bed and think and while you think you ponder about tomorrow and you wonder if it's going to turn the way you want it to and hope things will be okay because today's been really shitty and its the kind of day that you just want to crawl into a hole or lie in the dark with your teddy bear blanket and cry and you think and think and think about the thing you can't put out of your mind no matter how hard you try even if you read a dozen books or create some worthless program or do dozens and dozens of laps on the pool until you come out smelling like chlorine and even if you soap yourself more than two times you still smell like it and you're feeling about as morose as before because you really can't force yourself to stop thinking about it and that maybe you just have to wait and wait and wait and indulge yourself in your pain until you've exhausted yourself from crying and you just can't do it anymore and you're numb and the thing that used to make you cry before has been stored in the deep recesses of your mind and you move on and quote a guy who wrote a book that said the pain to the chest and the weeping will happen less and less as time goes on so live but you think it's easier said than done and everything just seems so hard that you just can't take it anymore that you want to absent yourself from life but you're too scared to get those blades in your drawer and cut and slash and watch the blood flow from your hand because its just too painful and you know that losing your life isn't worth it and by doing so you'll only seem pitiable and you know your enemy's gotten the upper hand and you rationalize with the little prince and the fox and the rose and then you get that fleeting moment of empowerment and you think to yourself how stupid you are to be dwelling on the issue and how you have to keep your last remaining scrap of dignity and how reality just bites and how you're better off without it and then you smile and feel good but that feeling's only for a moment because in a minute of a certain hour of a certain a day of a certain week the enemy does something that triggers something that makes you feel bad and/or sad all over again and you just hate hate hate hate hate the enemy and you pray for karmic retribution but you know you'll never be satisfied until you're going to be one to bring about that kind of pain you want them to feel and then you think about telling them what you want to tell them maybe because you want to make them feel bad or maybe you want them to like you back but it's never going to work and then you get all philosophical and shit and discover the meaning and the true nature of life and love and you think that maybe lobotomy is a pretty good idea and the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was more inquisitive than people think and you proclaim that life would be much much better if it had a rewind button and then you become sad all over again and you stand up and take a tissue from the tissue box and wipe your tears and the mucus that comes out of your nose and you look in the mirror and see your eyes all puffy and red and a little voice at the back of your mind starts nagging you about having to go to sleep and you being so infinitely infinitely infinitely pathetic and you turn of the lights and go back to bed and shut your eyes tight and try to sleep but you just can't so you think and cry some more because you know sooner or later you'll doze off because eventually you're going to get tired.

How Chaper 21 Of The Little Prince Would Have Ended If It Was Written By A Bitter Little Girl

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure grew near-
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"I never wished you any sort of harm," said the little prince.
The fox sighed.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"Yes, that is so."
And the fox gave the little prince the finger and trotted away.

My sincerest apologies to Antoine Saint de-Exupery or any fans of The Little Prince. It's my favorite book too. But this little fox has just recently finished Denial and is currently undergoing Anger. Three more stages to go.