A Closed Mind is An Open Book
2001-09-21 23:21:31 (UTC)


Wise man say if you ask Jon to bite you, he will. Wise man
say if you ask Joel to hit you as hard as he can, he will.
Wise man also say if you ask people to hurt you, you're
stupid. So I have a mysterious bruise on my arm that no one
really knows from where it came. Is it wrong for me to
enjoy that abuse? And if I ask for it, is it really self
inflicted? After all, Jon didn't have to bite me again. I
told him to. Joel didn't have to hit me as hard as he could
possibly hit. I asked him to. So if they had a choice of
whether to hurt their friend or not, it's not my fault it
happened. I just gave them that option. I'm listening to
Tonight by Xymox. Time will fly tonight, time will fly
tonight. Tonight. TOnight. Time flies, only with you. Only
with you. I can't make out anything but those lyrics. But
somehow I understand it. Its one of those songs that makes
me cry. I have so many thoughts clashing in my mind right
now. My head hurts. I'm not sure if its from thinking or
sitting here infront of this screen for too long. I'm
wondering where my dad is, why my mom is drunk again, why
my sister is sleeping so early, why no one ever calls any
more, why I keep finding things to think about to forget
the other things when it only adds to the things I'm trying
not to think about. I'm wondering where my faith went and
why is there a bug crawling up my monitor. I'm thinking
about orchestra and why I sound so bad without Christy
there anymore. I'm wondering if I wake up tomorrow will my
world be at war and what would happen if I didn't wake up.
I'm wondering would anyone care or would I just be a flash
in the pan, a name and not a person, a waste of time
instead of a daughter. And what if all this thinking and
wondering and worrying is simply a waste of time that could
be put to something more useful. Maybe I shouldn't be here.
I'm sure I should be cooking dinner or cleaning the
bathroom or doing my homework instead of waiting until
Monday morning. Last night I sat infront of my bedroom
window in my inflatable chair and I looked up at the sky.
The stars set so perfectly in their purple coat. There's
something about perfection that just stirs something inside
of me. And I felt a tear slide down my cheek. I wondered
why I couldn't be so perfect. Why I couldn't be hung so
delicately in such a perfect balance. Why I couldn't
sparkle and shine even behind thick stormy clouds. And then
I felt angry at those stars. Angry because they were so
beautiful. And then as another tear cascaded silently from
my tired eyes, I closed the blinds and crawled into my cold
bed to sleep a light dreamless slumber and wake to repeat
this boring melancholy nightmare the next day.