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my thoughts

I can't believe that what I feel is really happening to me
Make it hurt
And point the finger at my insecurities
Well I guess I just don't understand about those complexities in your mind
And I guess I just don't understand why this world seems so unkind
Maybe just once I get what's coming to me.

**"Maybe Just Once" - Nine Inch Nails**

Friday, April 01, 2005

Hello old friend. I haven't seen you in a while. Have you missed me? I haven't missed you. Finally Blogger is working again and I can write all about our visit. It was Monday when you were here. That was the day you brought what was hurting inside me to the outside. You brought it out to face the light. I can still see you and feel you today. Seven times you talked to me. Seven times it hurt. Seven times you helped soothe me and seven times remain. I feel ashamed for turning to you, old friend. You haven't been around for so long. The last time we spoke was November and even then you didn't stay around much.

I can't admit to you being my friend. No one would understand why I talk to you all these times I'm upset. I would be told to stay away from you because you would do nothing but hurt me. Why can't they understand? You don't hurt me. I seek you out when I hurt and you comfort me for a short while. It's all you can do. I seek you out when I'm alone and don't feel like talking to anyone. The effect you have on me stays for days or even weeks at a time and I can remember the relief you bring me.

Old friend, I don't like you. I shouldn't have to rely on you to temporarily fix my problems. I'm old enough now that I should know better. You've been around for years. It's difficult to remember times when I didn't call on you when I was in need. When I bleed on the inside, how can anyone help? You can help me, old friend. I can call on you anytime I need you.

He knows about you, old friend. He doesn't like you, but he accepts that I call on you from time to time. Afterwards, he asks to know about your visits. He asks to see what you've left for me to remember you by. Seven times we talked the other day. Seven times visiting was what I told him about. He accepts you. He doesn't like you one bit but I need you. I shouldn't turn to him anymore. He shouldn't take your place, old friend. I wish he could. I can't let him. Why depend on someone else when I have you?

Did you miss me, old friend? I sure didn't miss you. Seven times we talked and seven memories you gave me. Seven times it hurt to tell you and seven times remain. He doesn't like you, but he accepts you. Why can't I accept you as someone I turn to in times of need? You never stay around long enough. I call you when I need you. You give me what you can and then you leave, patiently waiting for the next time I beckon. I wish I could turn to him instead, but why should I when I have you? Seven times, old friend, and many more times in the future.

[edit] someone's been using Google to search for my pictures. I'm scared. Image hosted by

*stupid link of the day* Furniture Porn: there's even a bondage chair! Now that's hot.
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