vent vent vent vent

little things tear at me. devour me.

theres nothing easy about going through days as this. reading too much into movements and words. reaching. if you will. upward and away from the dark spots below. away from the stagnant and pale. this last week has been the most confusing of this year. twisting and butterflies and this new and fleeting emotion i thought was once dead. passion? is that you? too bad. your coming in a weird time. stephanie meets boy, stephanie goes to work, stephanie hears voice she hasnt heard in years and years, stephanie comes to realization. not all of this feels good. but most of it does. delicious and frightening.
the boy. quick breaths and arms locked. being kissed like that hurts. i fell. weak. gave too much. and now its no ones fault but mine that im just a girl again. if anything, a goodbye fuck. weak weak weak weak. i go back to the blogs i wrote before. i always fall for boys the hardest when they are the most impossible to attain. when they are too busy or too intense or too much or ... leaving. maybe its a stigma with me. i just like the rush. maybe im trying to prove i can make them stay. most times they dont and im left breathless and wandering. well see. theres still time for me. i shouldnt care so much about them.
work comes in short bursts. time flies and im reeling at the end of the day, coffee grounds cling to my fingers and the customers names are slurring together. they ask me if everything is ok, but im all smiles and head shaking when im there. makeup and eyelashes flashing. intimidating and strong. the perfect shade of yes sir. maybe. then im in the elevator going up one floor and im sagging against the wall and praying for the strength to straighten and walk out. back into it. these new people are strange. they invite me out and talk and laugh and i take them in and we romp. i like the poeple i work with. sometimes.
the duplex is terrifying and usually too warm. i pace and listen to the music people give me. painting saves me. my cigarettes save me. but not always. i put my fists through my bedroom window the other day. im too dramatic maybe.
[dogs barking and killing each other and i just want the noise to stop]



i dont know how i feel right now! actually its kind of mixed. i feel twitchy and scared and at the same time brave and standalone.

silly.

ridiculous.

jumping guns.

tripping.


what is coming? who knows! in and out and me at the wheel. drunk and heavy with thought.

ugh.

i cant write anymore.

ive lost it.

there's a better way to say certain things

but never the right amount of time.
[rush]
holy shit have i forgotten how to type? has it been this long?
my fingers fumbling and me tripping balls on something he dropped into my mouth while i dyed my hair. was it that kind of night. maybe so. maybe the taste of vanilla coke made me ignore the consequences as i swallowed. the dye washes out and as with every attempt i'm new and changed refreshed in the high illogical mirror in my little bathroom. its foggy and i'm looking intently. scissors cross my mind, too much trouble. then my house is too small and cold an quiet and now i'm here in the warm loving arms of the interweb trying to find my footing. i couldn't stay there, left to pace and lay awake and pick at my couch.
nights are a challenge again. overwhelming and long. they aren't for sleeping. not to me. just stretches of dark time and nothing on the tv. books i've already read scattered and i haven't done my homework how could i focus at a time like this anyway.
the only thing i seem to do consistently is go to work. heres me, wired on shots of expresso and chocolate, staring. people flow in and out. control your children please. [yea right] heres me in a state, learning names of people ill never really know and making coffee coffee coffee coffee. its fun work, i should say. but repetitive in its actions. my hands flick off caps, shake water from things, hit the buttons.
[what was i even talking about before.]
cant keep track you see. this night, maybe im coming down. im losing energy fast. im confused. my friends send me cryptic texts, with words in the wrong order, theyre drunk somewhere, theyre lost, something about killing things then abrupt cut offs and stretches of silence. i need answers from certain people, but it doesnt seem as important to them. welcome back paranoia.
oof, these pills, what color were they? my body feels floaty.
the other night i went to a club, one of my old haunts you could say, from a different time. i drank until the lights swam and the boy i was with was dead meat. im an attacker lately. a destroyer? something. im something. its just unclear right now. in and out and me the next morning with that wonderful devastating feeling in my stomach. cant eat. too nervous, cant fight back, its funnier this way.
do you get it? i dont. i just miss the flow and bustle of the words and the truth that they imply. you wouldnt lie to me would you he asks me. i look back at him and almost cock my head in amusement. boys. they look at you funny when they think your not looking. personal questions and awkward touches. fun fun fun.

i should do this every night.

maybe then i could go back and edit for dramatic effect and get some goddamn sleep.