"we are made to bleed / and scab and heal and bleed again"

The time has come, apparently, to write bad poetry and watch LXD episodes.

Muppet's back from her first experience with her dogwalker, and she is bedraggled and looking at me with sad eyes, and I'm convinced I've broken her heart though it is far, far more likely she's just tired.

I'm all broody today, wondering if these days are the kind of days that make me stronger or make me weaker. Am I more prone to shattering, or more resilient, do I get to choose and if not me, than who? My metaphors are all mixed, and I'm all at once the glass that gets closer to breaking every time you drop it, and I'm the grass that bends so it doesn't break.

I find myself drawing lines between subject and object, remembering that what I want right now is not Asshat, but the feelings I had about Asshat, and time being what it is, I'm not going to feel that way again, so even if I want it, I'm not going to get it. You can never unhear something you heard, it's always too late for a happy childhood.

I wonder if I can find a way to declare my desires by fiat.

Dear World - In the coming weeks I would like to be strong, graceful and patient. I would like to heal well and at a reasonable rate. I would like to have no regrets and learn how to make my new reality a matter of fact, rather than something to be constantly railed against.

If, in fact, I never show my breasts to another person ever again, that is not the worst reality I can think of. I can find the appropriate balance of respect and deadpan humor to deal with tattooed-on nipples for myself. I'm not going to have this be for nothing, I just don't know what use I can make of it yet. This is empowering, goddammit.

"we are made to bleed / and scab and heal and bleed again"

The time has come, apparently, to write bad poetry and watch LXD episodes.

Muppet's back from her first experience with her dogwalker, and she is bedraggled and looking at me with sad eyes, and I'm convinced I've broken her heart though it is far, far more likely she's just tired.

I'm all broody today, wondering if these days are the kind of days that make me stronger or make me weaker. Am I more prone to shattering, or more resilient, do I get to choose and if not me, than who? My metaphors are all mixed, and I'm all at once the glass that gets closer to breaking every time you drop it, and I'm the grass that bends so it doesn't break.

I find myself drawing lines between subject and object, remembering that what I want right now is not Asshat, but the feelings I had about Asshat, and time being what it is, I'm not going to feel that way again, so even if I want it, I'm not going to get it. You can never unhear something you heard, it's always too late for a happy childhood.

I wonder if I can find a way to declare my desires by fiat.

Dear World - In the coming weeks I would like to be strong, graceful and patient. I would like to heal well and at a reasonable rate. I would like to have no regrets and learn how to make my new reality a matter of fact, rather than something to be constantly railed against.

If, in fact, I never show my breasts to another person ever again, that is not the worst reality I can think of. I can find the appropriate balance of respect and deadpan humor to deal with tattooed-on nipples for myself. I'm not going to have this be for nothing, I just don't know what use I can make of it yet. This is empowering, goddammit.

(no subject)

So, there's this person. Bespoke. Not exactly in my life, but not exactly out of it. And every single time I interact with him, every single word comes out wrong and I don't know why. I've had thwarted crushes before, but there's something that makes me go straight to the completely blithering idiot place. Not in the fun giggly way, but in the who the hell is this person and why is she making sounds come out of my mouth way. And I then want to over-explain everything. And then explain my explanation. I think it might be the emotional equivalent of a cowlick, something that's just not going to go in place no matter how I try.

Maybe this is a lesson about object choices. Maybe it's not a lesson about anything. Maybe it's just an embarrassing learning experience. Next time, I'll try for a little more poise.

(no subject)

So, there's this person. Bespoke. Not exactly in my life, but not exactly out of it. And every single time I interact with him, every single word comes out wrong and I don't know why. I've had thwarted crushes before, but there's something that makes me go straight to the completely blithering idiot place. Not in the fun giggly way, but in the who the hell is this person and why is she making sounds come out of my mouth way. And I then want to over-explain everything. And then explain my explanation. I think it might be the emotional equivalent of a cowlick, something that's just not going to go in place no matter how I try.

Maybe this is a lesson about object choices. Maybe it's not a lesson about anything. Maybe it's just an embarrassing learning experience. Next time, I'll try for a little more poise.