October 06, 2003 - 9:15 p.m.
i do bad things... this we know. How come you always get into my skull? mirrors hang broken from too high ceilings, spin to and fro, showing fragmented sides of myself i already recognize... from angles i wish i did not. what does it mean? metaphor please.
so i gave in. i went to your house. i said i would not. i said i would not care. But i do. with your cute mohawk and blue blue eyes.
tonto the spider should have been there, hanging in wait... for me to get caught in that web. i'da made a good breakfast lunch and dinner. he'd have kept me on my toes for fear. Mostly though, i'm afraid of myself in these shoes. afraid to need words so much, and squirm so visibly in your silence. She's gonna be mad. til i tell her how sweet you were. i'm not supposed to talk to strangers. strange that i find myself compelled to.
she asked if you threw away your birthday card... giving me sly hints that she actually does care. her garden knome may be the only good travel companion she knows. He's happy to stay out in the cold and smile forever in the pictures she takes. I can't fake it. not even on the phone.
can things be good now? can I stop being right about things i'd rather not be?
feeling it out- she called it.
feeling.. is that something you do? but you will call. now i can be sure of it. except i think we may have lost the advantage. now you know... we are scared to lose too.
