an existence sent spinning

It's 2pm and my broken ego is some where at the bottom of this bottle of Corona.
Of course there was only one waaaaaaaay in the back of the fridge. You would think I woulda seen it sooner... empty as the fridge is these days.
Losing my job finally hit me last night at about 6pm... it really is a loss...omg. I have no identity after 9 years of being super...

This is my official day off from job hunting. I am all outta shampoo and ready to commit to the cheap stuff.
It, like my life right now, is smelly and not worth much at all,
I'm sure it
is just going down the drain anyway....

but on the upside...

No more freezing, no more tears no more sucky jobs that last for years. No more pain and no more insults... I feel so fabulously free.

Another subject,

i could watch the steam rise up in front of my overslept face and sigh as it dissipates into nothingness.
i envy the simplicity of it all...
up, up and away.

Calgone? Take me away from this. Away from the uncertainty and the pride.

I toss my ego into the recycling bin. Along with my single, ever so refreshing bottle....

there it goes.

i will return to the tub until i spin further down the drain of nonexistence.

coffee shopping and pizza hopping

Anna was surly the kind of girl to find corners in round things.

Like those small, reject pieces on the edge of the pizza when it is cut into squares. She favors the reject pieces and nibbles those first with her fingers while scanning for the best middle piece to save for last.

It was her quirky simplicity that attracted the artsy types of men and the most sophisticated oddballs.

Tim was the oddest of them all.

He had never pitched a tent or climbed a mountain, but he sure did know a few things about survival.
His knack for striking up conversations with the old ladies in the grocery stores was once an admirable trait.
Until it began consuming most of his wednesdays, tuesdays and sundays after church.

Anna first noticed Tim in the parking lot near a Aunt Ida's bakery on the corner of 172nd and Tennista Ave.
She was jogging along minding her own heatbeat when she stopped to stare in his direction.
Tim was stunning. He was dressed as plain as the local folks but carried himself with great confidence. It was impossible not to notice his broad shoulders and light eyes.


to be continued

one more thing

I still don't think it's fair.


Sincerely,
K. Cat

Pointing fingers at knife wounds

I'd have to tell the story again to make it clear to you.

It was a nagging urgency, a familiar feeling feeling and even I couldn't talk me out of it.
So I had to say it.

I knew I'd be "sorry" eventually.

So I took a seat and read deeper into my past

writings.

Once I found It, It flattened me immediately. I shook my head in disgust but It was as clear as the scars on my back.

He existed.

And that fact alone
made me want to vomit.

Finally did find out what it is about me.
There is security in turning around...
never looking back...
getting stabbed repeatedly...
I"ll never tell.

I'll run.
Away from the pain of being found out...
left defeated again...
left spitting out the teeth that hold my tongue in it's proper place...
left standing again on the feet I need to carry me away from you.

I swear I will not crawl to your feet exposing the back I've turned
close enough for you to see the scars you've left me with.

But I will go through with this nagging amend I need to make.

And hope to stop punishing the rest of em who are clearly not holding knives.

I am the grudgeholder pointing fingers and exposing my scars.
stirring my own poison pot as if it will make you die.

The fun fact about being left...
is knowing I will still be standing
and with that...

There can be no more fear.

seeing ghosts

By the time I looked away she had already stunned me standing, remembering her, within arms reach.
It had been a long winter since I'd last seen her.

In nine months I had grown something gorgeous inside even I couldn't identify.

It remains nameless.

But there is this guilt...

Shame is just another familiar feeling and it doesn't touch this that I can't explain...

She was a panamainian princess who no one could reach to save.

And I saw her looking at me, all this time later, in a park, in the daylight,

her ghost will haunt me. because it knows


I wanted it too.

I live with this gratitude, guilt and I'm full of it now. Call me Chickenshit

I can't hide what I carried inside.

LIFE
grows gorgeous inside
AFTER you live through the loss and circumstance

I wish she's seen it.
Before she became this ghost I stood in front of flaunting the lesson I learned in the nine months it has taken for me to grow my own life...





(eh, ill have to work on this later...it too raw to put into words.)

Stuart

Monday, November 19, 2007
Current mood: confused


Stuart

Stu drives one of those mustangs like Sally had when she turned 18.
His testosterone preceded him into the room and I gasped at the sight of him. With a chuckle, cherry coke on my sleeve and tears on my face, I nearly hit the floor.
Oh fuck. Duck, me duck.
Acrid doesnt describe the smoke. It masked the jack something or other, but only if you'd not smelled him before.
I have no inspiration, I am full of shit, and I have fifty bucks I'd like to give to a male prostitute to come play with my hair and listen to me sniffle. Then I'd never have to see him see me normal. If I'd only leave home.
Its been a good year since I've even been this way.
I missed me smelling him.
Like I missed me smelling the floor.
He never existed.
And I am nothing but a lump in a chair.
Do I exist?

If I'd a known then, my friend, what could I say?

Sure
It could have been easier.
But who'd a thunk.
I think that was about all she said before we took off for the coast.

Her hair had a bit more bouncy shine then and mine was more red than blond, but we had a good time despite our shady differences.
I never knew how to explain the easy way I use to make things difficult.
So I never did.

Until he came along.
He wrote it in a letter sometime after 4 am on a Tuesday.
And I am trying to pick myself up.

If I knew how to "remember to let anyone in"... where will I go when they leave?
I swore I'd never, ever, not now, not ever, not again. I promised myself happiness at any cost.


And the price just keeps getting higher.

I swear I've not forgotten to remember to know how.
to put it off one day at a time
until i just cant get hurt anymore.