Wednesday, March 19, 2003 :::
I haven't written in a while but after break I had some inspiration so I puked up this random stream-of-councious-ness-thing last night:You think you know me? You want to know me? Check this:
What Goes on In My Head: For once, I want to be loved as much as I love. But my fatal flaw is that I hold my anticipation too long. (A new realization)...After the question has been answered I'm still waiting. I know it stems from childhood. My mom always caved if I asked long enough. And I hate that I revert back to my childhood for inspiration to so many answers to todays questions. I want to let go and write about something other then my mother before I end up like my brother. I guess I really am still waiting for answers to questions that were answered long ago. I just get so caught up in my own head that I miss them, and I'm waiting for them to be repeated again. It's really just the same questions being asked to different faces.Fuck me. Love me. Love me. Love me.Fuck me. Love me. And of course the questions I ask myself that I've answerd a million times. Am I happy? What am I doing? What do I want to do? Am I doing what I want to do? Can I do everything I set out to do? My mother always says I burn the candle at both ends. My mother...again...She's embedded in the drops of wax burning my brain like the ciggarettes I tell myself every day I'm going to quit. Like the ulcer I've given myself at 20 burning inside of me. Like my heart always burning for the wrong people at the wrong time. Like my head burning for my heart to catch up and realize the answers to all my questions are there somewhere in fate, in destiny, in my own carved path I make for myself and walk with blistered feet in the heat, in new shoes, in a skirt, thighs rubbing together, waxy sweat forming mixing in some huge candle of what I am and what I believe, only to be melted into a new daily definition. Molded by the answers others feed me. Molded by the answers I feed myself. I am a harsh judge of character. I am a bitch. I am a tease. I am a prude. I am a wanna-be slut, I have trouble sleeping, I have trouble functioning without the people I love, I feel choked if I dont write, I need to get shit done, and if that means being a bitch and all of the above, so be it. I'm done catering to others. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. I want to be enough for someone else, but mostly, I just want to be enough for me to get by. Be financially independant, emotionally fulfulled. I'm trying. But some would say that I shouldnt even be trying, that I should just let things evolve.I'm not sure about all that. But I know, know, KNOW that I think too much. ~J
::: posted by Jen at 7:38 PM
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