i dreamt i saw you walking
up a hillside in the snow
casting shadows on the winter sky
as you stood there counting crows
one for sorrow, two for joy,
three for girls, and four for boys,
five for silver, six for gold, and
seven for a secret never to be told

there's a bird that nests inside you
sleeping underneath your skin
when you open up your wings to speak
i wish you'd let me in

from "a murder of one" ~ counting crows
For Brat Alone

Open mouth
jump in with both feet
do the twist.
Awww . . . why not? i did.

i'm sorry, ok? Just stop reading the fucking diary, Brat.

Did i not say i loved you? Did i not, for years, deal with conflicting emotions, over you, so strong that i was torn? Did i not say i was proud of how passionate and dedicated you are? Did you miss the part about how i just don't want you here? This is MINE, not yours. If i wanted to say something to you, personally, i would. Right now, i don't know what to say to you and i'd rather not say anything. I talk to myself here and work things out. This is my head. Stay out of it please, it�s not a pretty place.

No family is prefect and ours is stronger and more loving than many ~ that does not mean closer. i have hurts that may never heal inflicted, accidentally and otherwise, by the ones i loved most and i live with those choices. Choices they made and ones i made in response and the disasters and blowups that followed like a string of dynamite firecrackers.

None of us were all right and none of us were all wrong, we are humans. We all know i am the one who feels it all so much more; it holds me longer and worms it's way into my heart and mind. i would not be me if i didn't. i can't change it ~ i have tried. i am working so hard to peel back the layers and fix one thing at a time and there are times it's so fresh and painful and i don't need to be around anyone. i am sorry you caught me on one of those days. Sorry, sorry, sorry. i apologize for what i said and how you felt.

i am trying so hard to make me work right inside. i am paralyzed inside and broken and dead in spots and tender and soft in others . . .

i will never make sense to you. You will never make sense to me. i have accepted this and i stopped trying to fit the pieces of you together.

i have asked you before and you had no respect for my request. i will ask you one more time. Please stop reading this diary.


"Apart" ~ The Cure
"How did we get this far apart?
We used to be so close together . . .
"


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confessed on 2001-06-18