bleed me dry

twisted words

drained, empty.

 

piece by piece,

moments stolen

languid dreams

and ruthless nights..

 

locked away for fear

or pain

avoidance left

and empty.

 

ambivalance

to cease all.

not to fight for anything.

you're empty.

 

finished, done

end of show.

whatever's left,

you'll never know.

 

because...

it's empty.

We all want to be that girl. The girl... the one that changes the guy, or to word it better, the girl whom the guy wants to change for. We have the same inane picture in our heads since children. Tiny little princesses dancing around the yards in our pink tutus, whirling with our tiaras and Barbie dolls in hand. Prince charming will come one day, and I'm pretty sure we all believe that, or at least as much as possible. Being socially and culturally  force fed an idea, no matter how retarded, does eventually lead one to believe (even if not whole heartedly). We watch as our heroines are saved by the man they love. How the Prince saves Ariel from Ursula... how love saves the beast and turns him into a handsome prince again (in dire need of a haircut, but a prince nonetheless)...

Why couldn't Ursula have just eaten the prince?? Or what happens to Belle and the beast afterwards? Perhaps in the end she finds he has chronic halitosis and bad gas.. leaves him and runs away with the teapot. 

The fairytales and perfection of Hollywood. Projected. Scripted. Lovely. Tender. Sensitive. Passionate. Moments strung together and pushed in our faces and controlled much like a puppet master controls a marionette. It is, about the same time, where we girls figure out that these moments cease to exist in reality that our hearts begin to break. Where we find that boys are as flawed, if not more so than females. Not so much the fact that they are flawed as humans, but more for the fact that they are flawed because they are human. There is no perfect moment. There is no perfect man standing outside your house in the rain holding your favourite flower and telling the world how much he loves you. No fairy tales or white steeds to whisk you away to a far away land where you will rule as prince and princess for all time... No castles, tender love making, moments that make your heart leap so far out of your chest that you have to catch your breath. This is where we become jaded, cynical, insane, cold-hearted bitches. This is where we cease to believe in the power of our feelings and our guts or emotions and we seek out affection, affirmation, confirmation..just something to tell us that we are, in fact, as special as we would like to believe we are. That somewhere deep down inside,  the capability to be loved lurks. And that somewhere, someone wants to be the guy standing in the rain in front of our houses with our favourite flower telling us how much he loves us. We just want it to be you.

And if it ever should arise that it isn't you.. the at least have the balls to tell us. We're big girls. We can handle it. 

M: boys are stinky. I'm sorry you feel so crappy :( Love you. 

There are things in life which you don't really want to hear at certain points in your life...

 

1) you're pregnant 

2) that was great. by the way I have chylamidia.

3) I just ran over your cat, can I use your washroom?

4) your mom has cancer.

 

items 1-3 i could probably deal with on a good day utilizing my resourcefulness, a coat hanger, some drugs and perhaps a baseball bat or baby grand piano. it's the last item on the list that I seem to be having trouble dealing with in a constructive/healthy way. Instead it's made me want to:

 

a) cry

b) scream

c) punch random strangers in the face

d) just punch people in general

e) cry some more

d) try to feed my mom SPAM thinking it's a magical cure

 

I always told her that I'd have her cryogenically frozen so that she would outlive me, because in some sort of twisted fate I don't really know what I'd do without her. I guess there's no real way to verbalize this whole weird situation... cancer is something that my grandpas both had and both died of. family members, usually the old and scary ones died of cancer. shrivelled away to nothing in the hospital bed...so hopped up on morphine that they had no idea I was in the room. I remember my grandpa going from huge pot belly to almost my size..and I was 15. it's just not supposed to happen to my mom.

 

bleh. bleh bleh... that's all i can muster up at this point.