:: a.whisper.in.water ::

:: Monday, January 27, 2003 ::

Patience, Understanding, and Spleenventing
I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being made to feel unjustifyably guilty. I'm tired of arousing all these hidden suspicions, landmines in your personality, relationship tripwires that I'm too honest to avoid...don't make me lie to you. I don't care if you asked me to in an analog Sheryl Crow, I'm not going to. The scary part is how tempted I am sometimes. It's why I lie to my parents, to not arouse their displeasure, whether they operate on rational premises or not (they don't, but they're not changing, so whatever, I lie.) I shouldn't have to lie to you. As long as I've got a say, I'm staying far away from the realm of dysfunction where other relationships reside.

The sweet jungly crunch of ATR is a neat little complement, I think. You like this stuff, you know. This is a music-inspired blog, anyway.

I mean, it mostly boils down to me having no one to growl at since everyone's asleep, and no reason to because you don't want this to happen. Messy and protective, I've basically got this blinking cursor as my only appropriate recourse, which [i am the bullet in the gun / i am the truth from which you run] is significantly less than adequate. Excise it from your soul, or it will eat at every romantic relationship you cherish, albeit slowly. Can I stand it? For the moment, yes. The porcupine's dilemma, not a consequence of malice, merely our respective natures.

You need to explain that remark about being naïve; I offer you no choice. I'll simply do that thing where I squeeze it from you using whatever conversational devices of which I'm possessed. Work calls, but I suppose I’ve said my piece. It’s mostly a reprisal of my frustrations at having nothing to call wrong, to condemn outright, since you know it’s wrong too. But fuck-all, it’s getting to be a tired song, this one. Yes I’m mad, yes, it’s largely directed at you, and no, it’s not entirely justified. But after almost 27 months of tolerating unjustified feelings, isn’t it my turn?

I wouldn't have felt nearly so bad if this didn't fly in the face of one of the best weekends we've spent together, one that had me hunting your footsteps in a New York subway just to hold you a little more...and it sucks because you can't gauge things in light of that, and so every female name is a threat, and you never learn, never learn...every distinct female name warrants a brand new set of concerns and worries that simply don't belong, when they should have been taken care of the first few times around. Thanks again for ruining yet-another evening, even though it’s not your fault, and/or you don’t deserve this, or something.


:: Aziz 10:11 AM [+] ::
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