Go Away (please)

4/20 in New York, and I’m okay with that. Everything is turning green and my feet have been dancing for a week.  Now the temperature just needs to go up... So I’m still sick. Dunno if the stomach issues are the last bits of this cold or if I’m eating wrong but I really hope it all goes away. I want to move! I have perfectly capable arms and legs! I’m so f-u-c-k-i-n-g r-e-s-t-l-e-s-s!

I think I’m restless about a lot of things. And I know I can be a very impatient person. I can be irrational and narcissistic too.  But I’m also trying to find peace-- the journey has slowed me down a little bit more; I work through my moods and impulses. Overall, it’s given me a better vibe and made me more mindful and accepting. I look at the lovely details more, instead of being pissed/annoyed about singular things. Which is really bad when I aim that at Fawkes-- he is so much bigger than my moody ass mind sometimes makes him out to be. I feel so blessed to know him when I see through reality’s lenses even for a second, and I forget this so often. So I guess all in all, I’m headed in a good direction, but I still have my bad days.  I think I get more negative and feverish when I’m stuck inside because it’s cold or I’m sick. Which has been the last few days. But I don’t want my happiness/balance to rely on sunshine and health! Life happens!  I guess I’m still working on this. I want Fawkes to have confidence and health. My goal for us both is that we find friends (even if they’re just in-work friends) at Starbucks, and for us to spend some time making money and focusing on something other than our normal life. I’m hoping that working with Tito, someone who actually likes and respects him, will be good for Fawkes’ confidence and self esteem. People (including myself) have been so shit to Fawkes.  I’m hoping that we will start to feel better as the weather gets warmer and that maybe we can work out/get strong and feel sexy for ourselves and each other. I also want to start playing music outright and go on walks almost nightly. I hope by next year we will have gained enough identity to jump into other things-- it would be so awesome for Fawkes to coach little kids. I think he would love nature hikes, too, even if we have to take a ton of Aleve.  I also think he might need a dog. Pending on that one. 

Licking the edges of something that’s overflowing simply because I cannot contain it

I try I tried I try I’m trying Rhymes with die died die dying Say that five times fast It’s funny when you stumble– And funnier when I try (die)

Please come back. I can’t handle you being dead. I can’t. Not even for me. I can’t stand the thought of me never growing as a person. Me always being the mediocre, unoriginal, dumb, follower-fuck that I am, and never changing. Danny is the most amazing human being I have ever known. EVER. The most intricate mind, the strongest soul, the most vibrant spirit. EVER.

I can’t stand the thought of him settling for me. Of me being his only option—I don’t want him to die if I don’t work out. If I keep SUCKING. I want him to fly—Goddamn Ky, he loved you so much. He never hated you, I swear. He still loves you. He won’t admit it but I know it. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

I guess I’m jealous. I’m snoopy and curious and obsessed and jealous.

It sounds petty and it is, but it’s because you’re better than me.

And I so painfully, blatantly know it. It’s never ever been a competition. I’ve never been close.

Listen to me write—my vocabulary, my diction…I sound like someone from the goddamn Lodges. I’m so disgusted with myself.

I am not smart.

I’m not a rebel.

I’m not funny. Or witty. Or clever. Or strong.

I’m dramatic and whimsical.

I’m not good at art.

I’m not good at music

I’m not good at being pretty.

I’m not good at being motivated.

I’m not good at being lovely and lovey and making him or anyone feel special.

I’m not original—in fact I have never been. Ever.

I read books about fairies and fantasy and based my life off what I read. Nothing in my life is real. I’m plastic.

When I was a kid and tween and teen and god knows if I’m lesser of a shitty person that I was—I dappled in the pettiest of drama. I stopped caring. I was just an instigator. Everything was tears and “he said she said”. I could not give a shit.

Why did I do that? Why? Attention? Being a part of something? A reaction? A pulse?

I have never in my life been a good friend. To anyone. Ever. In my LIFE.

That is not an over statement.

I am fat and yet I still eat. I am in love and yet I still boys talk to me and I’m not a bitch back.

You were in love and you took a bus across the country to see him.

I have never TRULY loved like I love Danny. And yet I’m just so shitty. My choices, my naivety, my words, my manias, who I was, who I AM. THERE IS NOTHING ABOUT ME TO LIKE. NOT A FUCKING THING.

He says I’ll remember someday. That I’ll get better someday. At art. At boundaries. La la la.

Everyone’s thought that about me.

I don’t want people to fall for my “potential”. That’s a goddamn waste of time.

Ky, you were a rebel with memorable features and phrases and phases.  You were a light. You were an AMAZING human being. Like attracts like. Why the fuck did you go? YOU were original. YOU were smart. Genius. YOU knew how to be a friend. A loyal, drama-free, focused, genuine, friend. YOU were clever. YOU were authentic.

I am not a violent person—in fact, all I worry about is having a bad track record and losing my chances for going to a university and having a steady job. Which sadly is something I’m caring less and less about anyway. Basically I’m just a pussy.

I hate what happened to you. I HATE it. THAT makes me feel violent. I could probably kill Nick. And yet I know that I couldn’t. Why does my blind sense of sympathy mess with my LOGIC? My sense of JUSTICE, which ACTUALLY has always been prominent in my mind. My actions never match. And neither do my thoughts and justifications after a while (5 minutes).

I probably didn’t even get raped. I’m probably just a fucked up girl who got drunk and is subliminally slutty. I probably WANTED my cousin’s attention. I probably WANTED Matt to throw me under the tree. I don’t even know—I’m so disgusting. I’m so ashamed of my thought processes and the things I don’t know how/won’t say no to. I’m disgusting and ashamed and stained and a lie. I am a whore.

I’m such a fucking piece of plastic. Danny is light and so were you. So beyond human expectations—I cry every time I think about him. He’s so fucking amazing. How articulate, Via. “amazingamazingamazingomgamazing”. …He’s so amazing.

Please come back. Somehow. Let him know you can be together again so the time he spends with me can actually have a good ending.

This is not feeling. This isn’t me feeling shitty about myself. This is me.

Maybe I “deserve” to live. Maybe I don’t “deserve” to die young.

But I sure as hell don’t deserve Danny. I’ll try my hardest. I will. But I am so horrible. I’ll never match up to you.

This kills me. I love him.

He deserves light in the purest form. Ky, come back. He loves you. Come back. I love him. So so much.

I love you, also. You would’ve hated me. I hope things are good for you.