I'm afraid if I look down and lift up my sweater, if I try to expose my navel using the traditional trick of stretching out my stomach to inspire sex...
There's a gaping hole instead and I can see right through myself
and if I look through myself all I hear is smokebreak chatter about Microsoft this and IBM that and how Americans are the only reason we're still surviving and how it's okay that they're stupid and ugly and their faces all look like horses transplanted onto waterbags...
I read too much and when I read I listen and in Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged" they are asking themselves who John Galt is and I keep trying to tell them only now I've forgotten because their pain became too real.
And it's the pain that isn't real at all.
I have this talent for deciding who I will become.
Stumbling into my teens I looked about me and told myself that the only beautiful girls are the anxious fairies, Puck with a knack for twisting their hips and rubbing pelvis against you.
I told myself that laughter was beautiful and wildness was glorious and so I Became The Extrovert and Saturday, a circle gathered about me, they were laughing at my antics and enjoying my presence but after so many years, Rob and I sit and mope about what it's like to live in a demented carnival that nobody needs to understand.
We make them laugh.
So I got tired of being the slut last winter, I hurt too many people and played too many games and frankly it's been long enough and I've exhausted the game and I'm sorry Ian I won't sleep with you and I'm sorry Toby but I'm glad you enjoyed my kiss and I'm glad you're enjoying my friends better - I gave what I could and I'm glad you're happy.
And a few months ago I walked into The Professional World, only this time it was Serious because School Was Over and it's time to worry about nothing but my career, and I made ambition my New Identity and now I turn around and I wonder,
just like Dagny Taggart wonders
Where my insides have gone.
Oh, I love you Marc, and Steven and Aura with the way you move and feel like I used to, and oh Princess, with your Michaelangelo perfect face and perfect smile and perfect motivation and awareness...
Oh, and Ben who's lost at sea and sweet Dazahan with his secrets and flood of words, and Justin with your paranoid strength, and dear Kwizatz Bob... And Kaffeine who remembers how to feel and CF who used to dream and Marn who knows herself and Beth who sees the wonder there...
And I remember love and I haven't forgotten hate, in fact yesterday I drowned in the cold of it but passion is lying bleeding on the ground somewhere and I can't smell it anymore
I am so cold
I'm lost again
I'm lost again
My poetry is caught in my throat and I can't hear it scream my name
I don't remember a name anymore
A pretty face, a head of hair
A smile I practiced in the mirror to welcome strangers with
And friends and friends and friends and none of you have ever seen me cry
And now if I cry it's because I want to make sure there's still water inside at least.
I'm not lonely, and I'm not afraid, and I'd say I was tired of fighting but I can't even remember what to fight anymore
And I don't know what it is, except that I decided this is who I wanted to be, and I succeeded and None Of You Can Hurt Me Because It Doesn't Matter
But I want it to matter now.
This maturity shit is boring me to death.