I Wanna Be Joan Cusack

2003-02-18 - 12:31 a.m.

'be careful what you wish for'

Maybe there was a reason for there not to be a kiss. Maybe there was a reason for the brush off. Maybe I should have seen this small blessing for what it really was instead of taking it personally. Instead of pushing. Fighting to keep something that probably never should have started in the first place.

Because it's all making sense now. Now. In the end. Now that it's too late. The clues were subtle. Yes. But they were there nonetheless. And I feel so fucking stupid sometimes. And I got this urge today while I was on the highway, to just take my hands off the wheel. Just to see a truth. To feel it. I shouldn't be behind the wheel of a car, let alone a life. Because let's face it, there's no one with me to take over when I get too tired to steer. When I get too afraid or fucked up. There's no one to save me. Not from them. Not even from myself.

I don't know what it was. And I'm reluctant to put it into any neat little category. It's too slippery and hazy and surreal. It's this thing unnamed creeping under my bed. It's in all the walls. And ground into my carpet. It's taken root in old photographs, because they saw it happen. They're the only ones and I'm still so confused.

Been thinking it's time to do that thing that I always promised I'd do. Grow out of this phase. Take out my piercings. Be a grown up and live a dull life. Because someone will always be waiting to make sure I'm not shiny. That I'm not happy. To make sure that I'm as low as humanly possible without being dead. Death is too easy. Misery is an artform. Misery takes practice. Skill.

And all I keep thinking is that I'm such a fucking clich� right now. And I really really don't need another personal tragedy to add to my arsenal, to my book-jacket biography. I think I'm mad at Mat. Though I realize how irrational that is. But then, this would never have happened with him. He probably just would have kissed my eyelids and put me to bed. He probably would have tucked me in and rubbed soothing circles into my back. He would have been different. But I'm not meant for the Mats of this world. No.

And now I just know that I never will be. I'm taking those few steps back. I'm trying to gain some perspective in the face of all this fucked-up-ness. But somehow I know that this fucked-up-ness, it's the rest of my life. It's me.

�

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