*names have been changed.
I heard the voice of satan, coming through my innocent samsung phone.
"Hey, it's Josh. Something pretty bad happened last night- *mumblemumblemumble* -I'm at the DMV- *mumblemumble* -no ride *more mumbling* -I know that would be a lot to ask. Yeah. Okay bye."
Josh, my ex-boyfriend of maybe three weeks. The one who had completely fucked me over after eight months. Broke up with me saying "the only reason I kept you around was because you were a good lay." and then some excuse about how young I am and he needed someone his own age (thirty-two...) so he could "progress" and "move forward" with his life. He was verbally abusive and a pathological liar. But he claimed he really cared about me. Suree buddy.
He needed a ride because of the "terrible something" that had happened last night. This was either going to be an awful idea or a very good one. What could have happened? Nothing was bad enough for him I thought, but still, if some catastrophic thing happened I wanted to know about it. Compelled mainly by curiosity, and the fact that I have compassion for all living things, inconsiderate douchey pricks included, I drove to the DMV.
There he was. Sitting on the steps. With the creepiest pedophoile moustache I had ever seen. Someone can reaaaallllly go downhill in three weeks.
He climbed in my car and I couldn't help but smirk to myself. He looked like shit, and didn't smell much better.
"So...what happened?" I said.
Basically, Josh, who is thirty-two, has a suspended licence. He took his companies work truck to finish a landscaping job without telling his boss. Bossman drives by and sees the truck is missing, and calls the cops.
This is gonna be good.
At this point in the story I am already cracking up in my car. Josh's head is hung in shame as he relays to me the story in a dull, lifeless voice.
Josh's boss calls him to tell him the truck has been stolen. Josh tells his boss HE has the truck. His boss calls the cops says the truck has not been stolen, that their employee, Josh Johnson has the truck.
The cops run Josh's name...uh oh Josh.
I am literally crying as he tells me this, trying to see the road through my tears of laughter is not an easy task.
When Josh goes to drop the truck back off, there are the cops waiting for him. To take him to jail. Yes. Yes. Yes.
"Do you know what a strip search is Erica?! The make you get naked, tell you to lift up your balls. Turn around, BEND OVER, spread your ass cheeks...everything. Then they gave me a jumpsuit to wear."
Silence on my part.
He looks over.
I CANNOT BREATHE I AM LAUGHING SO HARD.
I compose myself enough to gasp,"Orange jump suit?"
"No, navy blue." He says flatly.
"Oh, at least it was your color." I burst out laughing.
His face is bright red, which is definitely not his color.
"My roomate was this big black guy who was masturbating on the top bunk. He kept talking to me while he was doing it, I think to cover up the fact that he was jerking off-"
I interrupt "-Maybe he just liked the sound of your voice Josh."
His expression is PRICELESS.
"He said I was living proof that the system didn't work. Because I had gone to college, had a career as a pro-football player, and still wound up in the same cell as him. All I could think about was how much I missed you Erica."
Uhh, is that supposed to be a compliment?
"You don't have to hate me," he says.
"I don't care enough about you to hate you Josh. I wasted eight months loving you, I'm not going to waste another eight hating you." I say. It's true.
I have to pity the guy though. Apparently when you go to jail they take your money, phone, belt, etc. and MAIL it back to you, so Josh spent last night in jail and now has no phone or money, and his pants are falling down. Ha. Ha.
"I wonder if they'll send my phone by tomorrow," he says.
"I mean, you could always call them and ask...oh, wait." I smile. He flicks me off.
I decide I can't let him go home just yet, I'm having too much fun torturing him. He's clearly so miserable, and it's so so easy to take advantage of that misery. After all of the horrible things he did to me, this is a gift from God, this revenge.
"Well, you should eat something let me buy you lunch." I say, faking concern.
I can tell by the expression on his face he thinks I am going to start being nice to him now. Wrong again Josh. I can tell he thinks that maybe I am coming around, that maybe he has a chance. But he doesn't realize I've spent the past three weeks reminding myself of every horrible thing he ever did to me, and the list is lonnnnggg. I will never fall back into those arms again.
We go to some skeevy mexican grill. I let him flirt with me in line. But never flirted back, but he's too stupid to realize that. He orders his burrito. I order nothing. I sit across from him. He is thinking he's going to break me down and get me back in his bed.
And then, oh miracles of miracles, the ultimate break-up song of all time comes on. With that opening piano I see him freeze, his spine turning to ice. I am overjoyed. It is too too perfect. My lips curl in a smile. I close my eyes and begin to hum, almost inaudibly. He has not looked up yet
Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry, You don't know how lovely you are...
Thank you Coldplay.
...I had to find you, tell you I need you, tell you I've set you apart...
I start humming louder. Josh has stopped chewing his food, eyes still on his plate.
...Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions,oh, let's go back to the start...
I have now begun to sing the words, very quietly, grinning like an idiot. His shoulders sag.
...Running in circles, coming up tails, heads on the science apart...
He finally looks up, and I am two inches from his stupid face singing with joyous, reckless abandon at the top of my lungs for all to hear:
"NOBODY SAAAAAAAAAAAAID IT WAS EASYYYY! IT'S SUCH A SHAAAAAAME FOR US TO PARRRRT! NOOOOBODYYYYY SAIIIIIID IT WAS EAAAAAAASYYYY!!!! BUT NO ONE EVER SAID THAT IT WOULD BEEE THISSSSS HAAARRRRRDDDD!!!!"
I think he got the message.
Josh walked home. And I drove away, with the best closure in the history of relationships
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Monster.
For Jeff.
Somehow I always knew it would come to something like this.
Although, I had more faith in the human race than I should have. Or maybe it was just you, and perhaps you're exempt from the human race anyways. You are sick.
You fucking sociopath.
"Don't discredit what we had." is what you said. I didn't have to, you did that on your own. "I didn't know" you said. "You're full of shit." I said.
He helped himself to my body, whispering he loved me. And I believed him, and he blamed it on my youth. But really, he was just a good liar. A master of manipulation. For months he made me believe I was the liar, with all his accusations, just to hide behind them, his own despicable intentions.
It's 3 a.m. and I have eyes full of concern. He has a mouth full of dip. But mostly, he's just empty. And finally he speaks the truth: "I never loved you." I should feel shot through the heart, but instead I feel nothing. Just a terrible sadness, and pity for a broken man, if you can even call him that.
"I'm not proud of it." he said, sipping his red wine."You have nothing to be proud of." I said. He nods. I feel bile and rage rising withing me.
"I want you to know, I'm not going anywhere." he said. "But I am." I said.
He reaches out to touch me, and I feel like throwing up. He lied, and I lie in a strangers bed. "Who the fuck are you?" I said. It was all bullshit. And I'm glad it is finally over. A trick, a picture painted with pretty words from the mouth of a monster. The colors of his masterpiece are running like the rain outside the window, this lie of a relationship becoming a muddled, muddy mess, what it always was.
"I am a good person." his voice comes from the dark.
"You are not." my voice comes from the truth.
"I'm so, so sorry." he manages to say. But that's a lie too, but I doubt he knows it, because he doesn't know anything. Because someone like him is incapeable of feeling remorse, or anything really. His apologies are feeble attempts to save himself, and I wonder if he's too far gone. I wonder what happened to him? I let him hold me. His hands are cold, and I can't bring myself to hate him, only to pity him. The shadow of a man.
All the times he accused me of lying, he looked me in the eye and said "I love you." Crushed me under guilt, and I believed him. I had more faith in the human race, unaware I was sleeping with a beast.
I have so many memories to erase. I will be a very busy girl.
He said it himself, he only wanted my body. A plaything. To posses me like his voodoo doll. To stick me over and over, causing pleasure and pain, and then pain again, and now nothing. "I've never been addicted to anyone before." He said.
Oh, how flattering.
It's seven in the morning, and I have slept in hell for the last time. I stand and dress with my back to him, and I hear him sigh. He's not awake yet, because he's reaching for me. Forgetting he finally spoke the truth: "I never loved you."
I look down at the monster who pretended to love me, just to have a steady fuck for months. And as I reach for the door I hear the rustle of sheets as the devil himself sits up. My grip tightens on the door knob, I do not turn around.
"Good luck with everything." I say.
Somehow I always knew it would come to something like this.
Although, I had more faith in the human race than I should have. Or maybe it was just you, and perhaps you're exempt from the human race anyways. You are sick.
You fucking sociopath.
"Don't discredit what we had." is what you said. I didn't have to, you did that on your own. "I didn't know" you said. "You're full of shit." I said.
He helped himself to my body, whispering he loved me. And I believed him, and he blamed it on my youth. But really, he was just a good liar. A master of manipulation. For months he made me believe I was the liar, with all his accusations, just to hide behind them, his own despicable intentions.
It's 3 a.m. and I have eyes full of concern. He has a mouth full of dip. But mostly, he's just empty. And finally he speaks the truth: "I never loved you." I should feel shot through the heart, but instead I feel nothing. Just a terrible sadness, and pity for a broken man, if you can even call him that.
"I'm not proud of it." he said, sipping his red wine."You have nothing to be proud of." I said. He nods. I feel bile and rage rising withing me.
"I want you to know, I'm not going anywhere." he said. "But I am." I said.
He reaches out to touch me, and I feel like throwing up. He lied, and I lie in a strangers bed. "Who the fuck are you?" I said. It was all bullshit. And I'm glad it is finally over. A trick, a picture painted with pretty words from the mouth of a monster. The colors of his masterpiece are running like the rain outside the window, this lie of a relationship becoming a muddled, muddy mess, what it always was.
"I am a good person." his voice comes from the dark.
"You are not." my voice comes from the truth.
"I'm so, so sorry." he manages to say. But that's a lie too, but I doubt he knows it, because he doesn't know anything. Because someone like him is incapeable of feeling remorse, or anything really. His apologies are feeble attempts to save himself, and I wonder if he's too far gone. I wonder what happened to him? I let him hold me. His hands are cold, and I can't bring myself to hate him, only to pity him. The shadow of a man.
All the times he accused me of lying, he looked me in the eye and said "I love you." Crushed me under guilt, and I believed him. I had more faith in the human race, unaware I was sleeping with a beast.
I have so many memories to erase. I will be a very busy girl.
He said it himself, he only wanted my body. A plaything. To posses me like his voodoo doll. To stick me over and over, causing pleasure and pain, and then pain again, and now nothing. "I've never been addicted to anyone before." He said.
Oh, how flattering.
It's seven in the morning, and I have slept in hell for the last time. I stand and dress with my back to him, and I hear him sigh. He's not awake yet, because he's reaching for me. Forgetting he finally spoke the truth: "I never loved you."
I look down at the monster who pretended to love me, just to have a steady fuck for months. And as I reach for the door I hear the rustle of sheets as the devil himself sits up. My grip tightens on the door knob, I do not turn around.
"Good luck with everything." I say.
Monday, March 29, 2010
audio heartbreak
And so it goes.
My head buried in your chest, the darkness pressing up against us. No one is watching this, a moment where our truest feelings come tumbling out, reluctantly and with sorrow etched deep into every sad and beautiful detail. I supposed we were star-crossed from the start, but isn't that what made it so great? There is a sharp intake of breath:
Have you ever heard a heart break?
It's nothing like the tinkling of glass hitting the floor, shards flying in every sparkling direction. It's not a crack like lightening splitting the sky. It does not sound like the slow tear of paper, old love notes being torn. It starts with the clatter of someone setting aside their pride, it sounds like the soft whispering of someone falling to their knees, pleading quietly. It sounds like the gasp of air being knocked out of someone's lungs, the whoosh of hope being lost. And all the while there has been the steady thumping acceleration of a heart thrown into panic...and then nothing. I think it must stall out as a defense mechanism or something. And last of all, and perhaps the most awful, is the sound of reluctant acceptance. The sound of air shakily being drawn into lungs that feel full of water and hurt, and the soft sound of tears, the most honest kind of crying. Like that of a child experiencing some kind of pain that they cannot understand, raw, untamed sorrow. The sound of real, true loss.
I want to drop to the floor. It is painful enough to just want to sleep for ever. And here, crying against your chest, I can hear your heart beating slow. I never thought life was fairytale. I never expected a happy ending... but I had hoped, and hope is both beautiful and incredibly damaging at the same time. A spark that could turn into a wildfire. Burning up whatever plans you thought you had. Incinerating what you thought you knew. Leaving you charred and alone, with nothing but burnt out matchsticks for company.
Slow footsteps across your hardwood floors, the last time they echo from your walls? I don't know. My heart still feels still. A deep coldness is permeating my body since leaving your apologetic arms. I cannot meet your eyes, which is enough to make my heart break all over again. That one simple fact is like ice in my heart. The doorknob creaks, and my slow decent down the front steps begins. I cannot turn around. I don't know if you are watching me go or have your face buried in your hands.I step outside into the blackness, and a light rain begins to fall.
And I know that is foolish to expect you to come running after me, to grab me and spin me around and kiss me and just ask me to please wait and be patient and that you can't bear to watch me leave like this. I know that it would be silly to wait outside in my car and hope that you would open the front door and climb into my passenger seat and say that in the distance between my camry and your living room you had some great revelation. I know you are trying to do what is right...
But nobody can help wanting that.
Nobody can help hoping that this is not the end, not the real end. That love or whatever will prevail and be enough. That through the darkness of this terrible heartbreak, the aurora borealis will light us up, and remind us of why we fell for each other to begin with. Maybe, just maybe. I know fairytales aren't real. I know that isn't how the world works.
But a heart can hope.
My head buried in your chest, the darkness pressing up against us. No one is watching this, a moment where our truest feelings come tumbling out, reluctantly and with sorrow etched deep into every sad and beautiful detail. I supposed we were star-crossed from the start, but isn't that what made it so great? There is a sharp intake of breath:
Have you ever heard a heart break?
It's nothing like the tinkling of glass hitting the floor, shards flying in every sparkling direction. It's not a crack like lightening splitting the sky. It does not sound like the slow tear of paper, old love notes being torn. It starts with the clatter of someone setting aside their pride, it sounds like the soft whispering of someone falling to their knees, pleading quietly. It sounds like the gasp of air being knocked out of someone's lungs, the whoosh of hope being lost. And all the while there has been the steady thumping acceleration of a heart thrown into panic...and then nothing. I think it must stall out as a defense mechanism or something. And last of all, and perhaps the most awful, is the sound of reluctant acceptance. The sound of air shakily being drawn into lungs that feel full of water and hurt, and the soft sound of tears, the most honest kind of crying. Like that of a child experiencing some kind of pain that they cannot understand, raw, untamed sorrow. The sound of real, true loss.
I want to drop to the floor. It is painful enough to just want to sleep for ever. And here, crying against your chest, I can hear your heart beating slow. I never thought life was fairytale. I never expected a happy ending... but I had hoped, and hope is both beautiful and incredibly damaging at the same time. A spark that could turn into a wildfire. Burning up whatever plans you thought you had. Incinerating what you thought you knew. Leaving you charred and alone, with nothing but burnt out matchsticks for company.
Slow footsteps across your hardwood floors, the last time they echo from your walls? I don't know. My heart still feels still. A deep coldness is permeating my body since leaving your apologetic arms. I cannot meet your eyes, which is enough to make my heart break all over again. That one simple fact is like ice in my heart. The doorknob creaks, and my slow decent down the front steps begins. I cannot turn around. I don't know if you are watching me go or have your face buried in your hands.I step outside into the blackness, and a light rain begins to fall.
And I know that is foolish to expect you to come running after me, to grab me and spin me around and kiss me and just ask me to please wait and be patient and that you can't bear to watch me leave like this. I know that it would be silly to wait outside in my car and hope that you would open the front door and climb into my passenger seat and say that in the distance between my camry and your living room you had some great revelation. I know you are trying to do what is right...
But nobody can help wanting that.
Nobody can help hoping that this is not the end, not the real end. That love or whatever will prevail and be enough. That through the darkness of this terrible heartbreak, the aurora borealis will light us up, and remind us of why we fell for each other to begin with. Maybe, just maybe. I know fairytales aren't real. I know that isn't how the world works.
But a heart can hope.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
napalm
She’s sleeping, and I guess I am too, but are the inner workings of a person’s mind ever really laid to rest? This girl, she’s the only thing in the world I care about. Fuck every other guy, girl, human, whatever. This is it. She’s all. She’s not really sure what to make of me. I know she loves me, but I don’t think she knows why.
I know why.
It’s because I keep her safe. I’m her wall, her defense mechanism. I am the arms-length-distance between her and anyone else that could potentially damage her. I am the hand on her shoulder, guiding her carefully through a field of land mines, telling her where to step. Deliberately sidestepping and doubling back, setting traps and ambushes for any unwanted followers.
And to me, that’s everyone. I never said I was a saint.
She makes it so difficult though, keeping her safe. That stupid heart of hers, she’s always giving it away, falling in love, focusing all her attention on everyone except for me. I tell her all the time she’s better off without it. I have no idea what heartbreak feels like, and I never will. No one will ever be able to do that to me. Heartbreak is for suckers. It’s sick, seeing her after the wreckage, a pathetic heap on the bathroom floor crying over some boy who never even loved her or deserved her. If it were up to me I would make her untouchable...which I do my hardest to make that way anyways. I will do anything to make sure she is always happy, while joyously inflicting as much pain possible on whoever hurt her. No matter the cost,no matter how hard she tries to keep me at bay, no matter who I have to walk over and make life miserable for. If it were up to me, I would make sure anyone who ever hurt her would suffer a million times worse, which I try to do anyways. I will be her escape. I will hurt her wrongdoers, I will hurt them. And I will smile while I do it, whispering sweet little lies, targeting their own weaknesses and eventually going for the kill. Oh betrayal, oh envy, oh lust!
I am Erica’s smirking revenge
The thing with her is she believes everyone is good, and she doesn’t give up on people. Everyone deserves a chance, everyone makes mistakes. She forgives so easily. Except with me, she never forgives me. I say why bother? I am the constant voice in her head telling her to stay back, she’s going to get burned. I am the one constantly lighting fires for her, torching the enemy…and she never appreciates it, but she’ll thank me someday for striking first. I’m the exterminator of her life. I have to get rid of all those pests she wants to bring home and keep as pets, and she always cries when I send them running, tail between their legs, but I know best. It’s always for the best. She’s like a child, every day is brand new and shiny and anything is possible. Well what my darling girl doesn’t understand is that people don’t change, they are all liars. Some things are constant. There are rules, and there is a system, and half the fun in life is learning to infiltrate and destroy that system. Burn it to the ground, and build your own goddamn empire, crowning yourself God.
I will set fire to all her bridges for her.
It’s simple though. All you have is yourself. Really, no one else can be trusted, which for the life of me is why I can’t understand why she struggles against me so much, I know what we want. I know how to get it. And try as I might to kill her conscience, she always is convinced my way is the WRONG way. I always tell her there is no wrong way.
Life is simply not that black and white.
I wonder to whose standards she is trying to live her life? Who says revenge is wrong? Who says twisting words and situations to the best of your advantage is wrong? I mean really, what is so terrible about bewitching and entrancing your enemies to get what you want from them? I just don’t get it. Who decides what is wrong, the rest of the world? The general fucked up public? Well why don’t we just take a good hard look at the rest of the world, why don’t we just take a look at that general public… that’s what I thought.
I will keep her safe. I will keep her from those who don’t deserve her by whatever wicked means I can come up with, and those who stand in my way of keeping her happy will be very, very sorry.
No, you can’t love me. I don’t know if evil is the word for me. Erica certainly describes me that way often, but I am unconvinced if that is really the one word to sum me up. It seems kind of bland if you ask me...I know you can’t love me, but I don’t even have a heart, I can’t love you either. I will get what I want from you and move on, and Erica will try to clean up that mess. Erica is the only one who loves me because I keep her safe, but that is about it. For everything else she hates me. I “ruin everything”, but I know that someday she will see sense. I know that someday, I will get her to destroy that stupid heart of hers and we can finally reach our full potential. Until then, I will hold the world at bay and keep on pointing out all of the ugliness spread before her that she just wants to love so much and give chance after chance to. I will show her the ugliness cause by trusting others, by loving them, letting them inside and under your skin and in your mind.
But they don’t know that Erica has me inside her mind, her secret napalm.
I know she wants to get rid of me, but I want to get rid of her heart. One of us will win one of these days or maybe not. Maybe this will be a life long struggle. But we are both reckless, and stubborn. I just hope she doesn’t pull some fight club shit and shoot herself in the head or something.
Tyler Durden was a little bitch compared to me anyways
I know why.
It’s because I keep her safe. I’m her wall, her defense mechanism. I am the arms-length-distance between her and anyone else that could potentially damage her. I am the hand on her shoulder, guiding her carefully through a field of land mines, telling her where to step. Deliberately sidestepping and doubling back, setting traps and ambushes for any unwanted followers.
And to me, that’s everyone. I never said I was a saint.
She makes it so difficult though, keeping her safe. That stupid heart of hers, she’s always giving it away, falling in love, focusing all her attention on everyone except for me. I tell her all the time she’s better off without it. I have no idea what heartbreak feels like, and I never will. No one will ever be able to do that to me. Heartbreak is for suckers. It’s sick, seeing her after the wreckage, a pathetic heap on the bathroom floor crying over some boy who never even loved her or deserved her. If it were up to me I would make her untouchable...which I do my hardest to make that way anyways. I will do anything to make sure she is always happy, while joyously inflicting as much pain possible on whoever hurt her. No matter the cost,no matter how hard she tries to keep me at bay, no matter who I have to walk over and make life miserable for. If it were up to me, I would make sure anyone who ever hurt her would suffer a million times worse, which I try to do anyways. I will be her escape. I will hurt her wrongdoers, I will hurt them. And I will smile while I do it, whispering sweet little lies, targeting their own weaknesses and eventually going for the kill. Oh betrayal, oh envy, oh lust!
I am Erica’s smirking revenge
The thing with her is she believes everyone is good, and she doesn’t give up on people. Everyone deserves a chance, everyone makes mistakes. She forgives so easily. Except with me, she never forgives me. I say why bother? I am the constant voice in her head telling her to stay back, she’s going to get burned. I am the one constantly lighting fires for her, torching the enemy…and she never appreciates it, but she’ll thank me someday for striking first. I’m the exterminator of her life. I have to get rid of all those pests she wants to bring home and keep as pets, and she always cries when I send them running, tail between their legs, but I know best. It’s always for the best. She’s like a child, every day is brand new and shiny and anything is possible. Well what my darling girl doesn’t understand is that people don’t change, they are all liars. Some things are constant. There are rules, and there is a system, and half the fun in life is learning to infiltrate and destroy that system. Burn it to the ground, and build your own goddamn empire, crowning yourself God.
I will set fire to all her bridges for her.
It’s simple though. All you have is yourself. Really, no one else can be trusted, which for the life of me is why I can’t understand why she struggles against me so much, I know what we want. I know how to get it. And try as I might to kill her conscience, she always is convinced my way is the WRONG way. I always tell her there is no wrong way.
Life is simply not that black and white.
I wonder to whose standards she is trying to live her life? Who says revenge is wrong? Who says twisting words and situations to the best of your advantage is wrong? I mean really, what is so terrible about bewitching and entrancing your enemies to get what you want from them? I just don’t get it. Who decides what is wrong, the rest of the world? The general fucked up public? Well why don’t we just take a good hard look at the rest of the world, why don’t we just take a look at that general public… that’s what I thought.
I will keep her safe. I will keep her from those who don’t deserve her by whatever wicked means I can come up with, and those who stand in my way of keeping her happy will be very, very sorry.
No, you can’t love me. I don’t know if evil is the word for me. Erica certainly describes me that way often, but I am unconvinced if that is really the one word to sum me up. It seems kind of bland if you ask me...I know you can’t love me, but I don’t even have a heart, I can’t love you either. I will get what I want from you and move on, and Erica will try to clean up that mess. Erica is the only one who loves me because I keep her safe, but that is about it. For everything else she hates me. I “ruin everything”, but I know that someday she will see sense. I know that someday, I will get her to destroy that stupid heart of hers and we can finally reach our full potential. Until then, I will hold the world at bay and keep on pointing out all of the ugliness spread before her that she just wants to love so much and give chance after chance to. I will show her the ugliness cause by trusting others, by loving them, letting them inside and under your skin and in your mind.
But they don’t know that Erica has me inside her mind, her secret napalm.
I know she wants to get rid of me, but I want to get rid of her heart. One of us will win one of these days or maybe not. Maybe this will be a life long struggle. But we are both reckless, and stubborn. I just hope she doesn’t pull some fight club shit and shoot herself in the head or something.
Tyler Durden was a little bitch compared to me anyways
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
TiLt
It’s happened again. I got carried away, and I got hurt, and really it’s not anyone’s fault, these things happen, at least that’s what I tell myself.
We all have defense mechanisms, ways of coping. Everyone has an autopilot switch, a way of shutting out everything else in order to get through hell...but most people don’t enjoy the ride. I have something else, people might call it an alter-ego, but it is frighteningly more defined than a figment of my imagination, more than a cape or an outfit I can slip on when I'm feeling sad or weak. I have an entire consciousness that surfaces and takes over…
…and I don't know where She came from.
Perhaps a bit of lymphatic fluid that never got processed and festered in my body, a blood disease that developed a personality. Maybe she's an angel on my shoulder...very unlikely, unless she crash landed there after being kicked out of heaven, or maybe somewhere along the way I really did because home to a parasite, my demon girl.
Perhaps, and what seems most likely, is that I’m just crazy.
Lions, and tigers, and bears...oh my. My demon girl eats them all right up, protects me from anything that might hurt me…except for herself. Myself. The only thing left to fear is the hunger that I still have left. The longing for something that she cannot give to me, what is it that I'm searching for? When I've retreated so far back into my heart, to a place where you can't reach me. But I want you to reach me, despite whatever pain it could cause.
But Tilt doesn’t like being on the receiving end of pain. It pisses her off.
I have been here before, miserable and broken, retreating far back inside myself to numb everything that I’m feeling. It’s where I go when Tilt takes over for me. And I should have known it would come to this. I suppose She was waiting for it, like she always is, ready to take over when the dreamer woke up into a nightmare, which She either planned or already knew would happen. She knows a lover can't exist in a place like this. They are too soft for these jagged edges of something that was once beautiful. So I hand over the reigns and hide behind my eyes while my demon Tilt does all the talking. My mouth, Her words, but can't you see me looking at you? Wishing I was strong enough to tell you what I really want to. What she’d never let me.
"But we tried that, or at least YOU did," She reminds me. "And I told you it would all end in tears...and here you are."
She's right. Her logic is flawless most of the time. I hate Her for that. For her coldness, for Her ability to predict disaster on the horizon. For Her wild recklessness, so much like mine, to charge head first into what is sure to be earth-shattering heartbreak. And I hate that when it is over, I cannot be her. Because you can't feel without a heart…which is exactly what I suspect Tilt does not have, and for that I envy Her, to never have to know heartbreak. It's enough sometimes to wish I never had to know love.
Heartless as she might be, Tilt is still my savior.
She keeps me safe from my own emotions, picks up my broken body and proclaims with manic laughter that tonight we are going out! And everyone else is insignificant and who give a fuck about them anyways. She’s got a bad attitude and a wicked smile, along with the steady hand that applies my makeup, and the stronger will that holds back the tears that would otherwise ruin her handy work on my eyeliner. She is my idol, my best friend.
My worst fucking enemy.
Why She insists on doing things the way only the most practiced sinner would, I will never understand. It is a constant battle between her and I, what she wants, and what is right. She is an evil enchantress, and I can always feel Her creeping up my spine, perching on my shoulder, whispering Her diabolical plans into my ear. And sometimes when I resist, twisted little bitch that She is, She takes over. Grabs the wheel from my hands, shoves me out of the driver’s seat, and stomps down hard on the gas pedal, landing us in some huge mess.
But I can’t help it, I love Tilt.
Though, She’s hijacked my body now, and for doing so I may never forgive Her. I want to talk to you. I want to do whatever it is a weak, soft, stupid girl in love is supposed to do. Not the thing that Tilt would have me do, she’s out for revenge. My heart hurts and She might not know how to love anything or anyone else, but I know that I am the only thing that She loves, because I AM her….selfish little fuck.
I’m struggling to get back over into the drivers seat, but somehow we’re in some kind of ridiculously fast, sleek black car, and it’s manual. Tilt knows how to drive manual. Not me though.
“You bitch, you did that on purpose!” She knows I can only drive automatic. She knows.
She turns to me. That wicked, wicked, wicked grin.
“It’s for our own good! We gotta go, far away from here, from your broken heart. So I’ll drive us until it doesn’t hurt anymore, just like I drove you out of Statesboro. I’ll always have the getaway car! Now, don’t be stupid,” She rips out the rear view mirror, “Never look back. Haven’t you learned anything?”
Tilt, Miss lust-and-leave them, the bitch who turns nice boys into assholes after stomping on their emotions, the one-woman-wrecking ball who leaves in Her path a trail of broken promises and half eaten hearts…She gets anything She wants, when She wants it, or at least tries to, and leaves the mess for someone else. Why would She ever need to look back at such an eyesore? And yes, maybe She’s right, looking back might not be the best thing, but hell, I’m only human…and I haven’t done anything nearly as bad as Tilt would have, the view in the rearview is still worth saving. All I want is to jump out of this stupid convertible and run back to you and try and make things right, and yes, I’m sure that will hurt me like hell. And yes, I know She won’t ever let me do that.
Pride, just one of the seven sins she’s made of.
She doesn’t understand compromise, or give and take. She doesn’t understand forgiveness, and She doesn’t understand weakness. I can feel how repulsed She is with me. She is in Wrath mode. I suppose it is better She’s driving me away from someone instead of trying to eat their heart. Oh trust me, it’s happened before.
“Look at you, you’re a fucking mess. Why does any of this matter? What do any of these people you’ve ever loved care about you? Nothing! You’ve given your heart countless times, and what ALWAYS happens Erica? They break it! I mean...unless you let me break theirs first, but for your own good! But you always give yourself away, your stupid heart, if it were up to me, they might as well keep the damn thing! All it does is ruin our fun.”
She’s driving too fast, and not even looking at the road, She’s looking at me, bottom lip in a pout. Yeah, they just ruin our fun Tilt. She’s trying to convince me She knows best. I don’t want to listen anymore. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want Her to drive the getaway car. I don’t even know where we’re heading. I sigh. I can’t help it, I love Tilt, and I want to do what She says and forget the rear view mirror broken on the road, shining like pieces of my heart that Tilt wishes I would leave behind too...but I can't.
“Pull over Tilt.”
“Erica, I’m not doing that. We are better than that, you can’t even drive this car, you’d have the transmission fucked after two miles! So fuck you, I’m not pulling over, and I’m not turning around! If you wanna get out and walk your sorry ass back to whatever miserable heartbreak you just came from, be my fucking guest, but you know I’m coming back for you. You know I always will.”
“Yeah, I know.”
And I’m walking back, I hear Her scream of frustration, or maybe it’s just the tires spinning as She drives off, She’s fucking pissed. I don’t know who is right…I never do, I don’t really care. I just know that as long as the rearview isn’t reflecting a burning wasteland, as long as there is a chance, I will always go back. Foolish as that might be, and as badly as I might get burned in the end, at least I can say I tried, hopeless mess of a dreamer that I am. And I know, no matter what I do…
Tilt will be back for me. She always will.
We all have defense mechanisms, ways of coping. Everyone has an autopilot switch, a way of shutting out everything else in order to get through hell...but most people don’t enjoy the ride. I have something else, people might call it an alter-ego, but it is frighteningly more defined than a figment of my imagination, more than a cape or an outfit I can slip on when I'm feeling sad or weak. I have an entire consciousness that surfaces and takes over…
…and I don't know where She came from.
Perhaps a bit of lymphatic fluid that never got processed and festered in my body, a blood disease that developed a personality. Maybe she's an angel on my shoulder...very unlikely, unless she crash landed there after being kicked out of heaven, or maybe somewhere along the way I really did because home to a parasite, my demon girl.
Perhaps, and what seems most likely, is that I’m just crazy.
Lions, and tigers, and bears...oh my. My demon girl eats them all right up, protects me from anything that might hurt me…except for herself. Myself. The only thing left to fear is the hunger that I still have left. The longing for something that she cannot give to me, what is it that I'm searching for? When I've retreated so far back into my heart, to a place where you can't reach me. But I want you to reach me, despite whatever pain it could cause.
But Tilt doesn’t like being on the receiving end of pain. It pisses her off.
I have been here before, miserable and broken, retreating far back inside myself to numb everything that I’m feeling. It’s where I go when Tilt takes over for me. And I should have known it would come to this. I suppose She was waiting for it, like she always is, ready to take over when the dreamer woke up into a nightmare, which She either planned or already knew would happen. She knows a lover can't exist in a place like this. They are too soft for these jagged edges of something that was once beautiful. So I hand over the reigns and hide behind my eyes while my demon Tilt does all the talking. My mouth, Her words, but can't you see me looking at you? Wishing I was strong enough to tell you what I really want to. What she’d never let me.
"But we tried that, or at least YOU did," She reminds me. "And I told you it would all end in tears...and here you are."
She's right. Her logic is flawless most of the time. I hate Her for that. For her coldness, for Her ability to predict disaster on the horizon. For Her wild recklessness, so much like mine, to charge head first into what is sure to be earth-shattering heartbreak. And I hate that when it is over, I cannot be her. Because you can't feel without a heart…which is exactly what I suspect Tilt does not have, and for that I envy Her, to never have to know heartbreak. It's enough sometimes to wish I never had to know love.
Heartless as she might be, Tilt is still my savior.
She keeps me safe from my own emotions, picks up my broken body and proclaims with manic laughter that tonight we are going out! And everyone else is insignificant and who give a fuck about them anyways. She’s got a bad attitude and a wicked smile, along with the steady hand that applies my makeup, and the stronger will that holds back the tears that would otherwise ruin her handy work on my eyeliner. She is my idol, my best friend.
My worst fucking enemy.
Why She insists on doing things the way only the most practiced sinner would, I will never understand. It is a constant battle between her and I, what she wants, and what is right. She is an evil enchantress, and I can always feel Her creeping up my spine, perching on my shoulder, whispering Her diabolical plans into my ear. And sometimes when I resist, twisted little bitch that She is, She takes over. Grabs the wheel from my hands, shoves me out of the driver’s seat, and stomps down hard on the gas pedal, landing us in some huge mess.
But I can’t help it, I love Tilt.
Though, She’s hijacked my body now, and for doing so I may never forgive Her. I want to talk to you. I want to do whatever it is a weak, soft, stupid girl in love is supposed to do. Not the thing that Tilt would have me do, she’s out for revenge. My heart hurts and She might not know how to love anything or anyone else, but I know that I am the only thing that She loves, because I AM her….selfish little fuck.
I’m struggling to get back over into the drivers seat, but somehow we’re in some kind of ridiculously fast, sleek black car, and it’s manual. Tilt knows how to drive manual. Not me though.
“You bitch, you did that on purpose!” She knows I can only drive automatic. She knows.
She turns to me. That wicked, wicked, wicked grin.
“It’s for our own good! We gotta go, far away from here, from your broken heart. So I’ll drive us until it doesn’t hurt anymore, just like I drove you out of Statesboro. I’ll always have the getaway car! Now, don’t be stupid,” She rips out the rear view mirror, “Never look back. Haven’t you learned anything?”
Tilt, Miss lust-and-leave them, the bitch who turns nice boys into assholes after stomping on their emotions, the one-woman-wrecking ball who leaves in Her path a trail of broken promises and half eaten hearts…She gets anything She wants, when She wants it, or at least tries to, and leaves the mess for someone else. Why would She ever need to look back at such an eyesore? And yes, maybe She’s right, looking back might not be the best thing, but hell, I’m only human…and I haven’t done anything nearly as bad as Tilt would have, the view in the rearview is still worth saving. All I want is to jump out of this stupid convertible and run back to you and try and make things right, and yes, I’m sure that will hurt me like hell. And yes, I know She won’t ever let me do that.
Pride, just one of the seven sins she’s made of.
She doesn’t understand compromise, or give and take. She doesn’t understand forgiveness, and She doesn’t understand weakness. I can feel how repulsed She is with me. She is in Wrath mode. I suppose it is better She’s driving me away from someone instead of trying to eat their heart. Oh trust me, it’s happened before.
“Look at you, you’re a fucking mess. Why does any of this matter? What do any of these people you’ve ever loved care about you? Nothing! You’ve given your heart countless times, and what ALWAYS happens Erica? They break it! I mean...unless you let me break theirs first, but for your own good! But you always give yourself away, your stupid heart, if it were up to me, they might as well keep the damn thing! All it does is ruin our fun.”
She’s driving too fast, and not even looking at the road, She’s looking at me, bottom lip in a pout. Yeah, they just ruin our fun Tilt. She’s trying to convince me She knows best. I don’t want to listen anymore. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want Her to drive the getaway car. I don’t even know where we’re heading. I sigh. I can’t help it, I love Tilt, and I want to do what She says and forget the rear view mirror broken on the road, shining like pieces of my heart that Tilt wishes I would leave behind too...but I can't.
“Pull over Tilt.”
“Erica, I’m not doing that. We are better than that, you can’t even drive this car, you’d have the transmission fucked after two miles! So fuck you, I’m not pulling over, and I’m not turning around! If you wanna get out and walk your sorry ass back to whatever miserable heartbreak you just came from, be my fucking guest, but you know I’m coming back for you. You know I always will.”
“Yeah, I know.”
And I’m walking back, I hear Her scream of frustration, or maybe it’s just the tires spinning as She drives off, She’s fucking pissed. I don’t know who is right…I never do, I don’t really care. I just know that as long as the rearview isn’t reflecting a burning wasteland, as long as there is a chance, I will always go back. Foolish as that might be, and as badly as I might get burned in the end, at least I can say I tried, hopeless mess of a dreamer that I am. And I know, no matter what I do…
Tilt will be back for me. She always will.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Welp.
I suppose I have Ashley to thank for this. It is a rather good idea. I've decided that the notes section of facebook just isn't cutting it for my writing. Rants, poetry, short stories and what have you. Plus, I can keep track of her extraordinary life from here. Her blog is quite good...and now I can comment on her posts! So here I have my very own blog!
Heaven help us.
You'll have to bear with me though, seeing as I am technologically challenged. It's going to take some getting used to. But for now, I'll just mess around and try to figure this thing out. See you soon.
-Erica
Heaven help us.
You'll have to bear with me though, seeing as I am technologically challenged. It's going to take some getting used to. But for now, I'll just mess around and try to figure this thing out. See you soon.
-Erica
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