With Blueberry Sauce

May 12th, 2008

summer is coming. promises of last-minute movie dates, thumb-wrestling matches and pseudo philosophical discussions orbit around my head like moons. my mouth waters as i daydream about these promises, like a child looking longingly at a dripping ice cream cone on a hot day. i want this in a way that we all want our fetishes, how we long for these liberating explosions of light as we crouch in the clandestine pits of our own stomachs. clawing at the walls, yearning, desiring, but always conflicted; always feeling shameful that we were made to fill all the wrong moulds.

i am angry. fleetingly so; the anger thuds in my skull like the strange headaches i’ve been getting lately - a few hard pulses in the upper left corner of my head, and then they’re gone. 5 minutes later it happens again. it’s the same thing with the anger. it comes and it goes. some moments i realize how silly it is to be angry at these things that i cannot control, and then other times i feel like i want to reach out and viciously bend things back into shape with my bare hands. it feels so good to talk about these things with people who understand me and let me talk; people who actually listen instead of raping me over and over again with self-righteous opinions. self-righteousness is something that should be taken and thrown into the pits of hell.. along with high horses, disloyalty and the murderers of Altantuya.

Entry Filed under: Musings, Unsent Letters