|
Previous - this entry written on May 25, 2002 at 5:55 am - Next Erm. This isn't... ...it isn't something that is going to make much sense unless you know me. Even then, it might not quite click. I don't think I could ever write an autobiography. I don't like my life enough, and don't hate my life enough. But I can write bad blank-verse poetry, and odd short stories, and tacky songs... ...and I can write this. In fact, I've tentatively titled the following piece "This", because... well... there's not much else to say about it. I'd considered seeing if it might be able to find a place in the kajira's diary, but... well, she has her own life, as it were. This is the Collective. This is WHY the Collective. This is me. - This - a girl is born, all wide eyes, breath forced out her first experience in this world is violence she drinks formula and goats' milk, her mother hands her over to strangers and never looks back she grows up sickly, with a bitter taste in her mouth that never quite washes away, memorytaste a girl huddles under a tall wicker-seat chair tickets please, she calls out today, tickets, she hides beneath it to play, because sitting on top was not so safe once, hands on cold skin she gets over that eventually and perches on the chair to eat at the counter like a grownup would a girl watches, shock and horror, as her room is violated, invaded, she knew her body was public she had hoped that her room at least was sacred instead it is open house to parents who scream she clutches a notebook, afraid to put it down if she leaves it alone it too will be burned up a girl steps in to a classroom with other kids long brown hair hiding her face, baggy clothing she tries her best to be ugly but can't succeed then she tries to be pretty and that fails too she watches someone else hurting and thinks it only fair, really, but tries to help the other a girl is sitting in the church her parents like leaning against a wall, watching two brown eyes she is transfixed by the gaze of a stranger who speaks about a life so like the girl's, so hard she follows those eyes into the first real taste of freedom and strength, she falls in love now a girl grows up slowly, teaching herself to like the thing she learned to hate when she was young she practices, polishes, and then she discovers computers and the internet and a Canadian clone she takes her first steps away from brown eyes and toward a black-haired girl and a distant boy a girl tastes new things now, cigarettes, kisses alcohol and marijuana and salt-tang evening air she walks the streets when the sun seeks shelter park and golf course, ocean beach and paved road she believes in herself for the first time but simultaneously she doubts, knowing her faults a girl, like girls often do, looses the boy, and does not give up now that she has had this taste she knows what she wants and how to get more and when another boy enters her life she smiles she enjoys his company and enjoys his touch thinking that now there is a chance for forever a girl is frightened by swelling stomach, body reacting to the presence of new life within it she leaves small-town life and small-town love only to find that big-city love is no better she realizes, baby handed off as she was, lost, that she cannot bear the price love seems to ask a girl runs and looses herself first in another Canadian taste of heaven, mirror image of the DJ she falls now for someone who would own her, not surrender to her, and she believes this is it she watches as he leaves and it is not until then that the thought of love for him becomes fact a girl is alone and for comfort turns to darkness black skin and black eyes and he hurts her well she finds love in this too, love in the pain she asks for over and over again even when she knows she no longer wants it and no longer needs it the knife wakes her up and again she is running a girl discovers peanut butter and hypothermia, a hedgehog keeping watch as she takes a virgin boy she has eyes for so many now, old friends and new but she comes back to the city because it is home she comes, too, for soft blue eyes and long hair gaming geek, computer addict, he trusts her then a girl grows further and regresses too, sinking into the online world she had almost left behind she takes on whiskers, tail, and fur to stalk her latest prey - young boy with innocence left in him she promises herself that he will have the Firsts that were ripped away from her, he will be safe a girl, reconciled to this new role, savors it all teasing and slowly capturing, meeting and claiming, she knows that her Other waits for her return and if he did not, she would die from a shattered heart she has finally found something that she treasures and it is again mirror opposites, two boys she loves a girl reaches into herself as she tries to adjust finding more, always more emotion that tears apart she loves and looses and loves again but the two stay at her side and for this as much as anything she remains devoted to them, her heart is theirs even when her body begs new, yet familiar, violation a girl, now entangled in a web of her own making watches her life slip away in pain and confusion she looks back at the beginnings, unsurprised that such early hurt built up such wicked ice-cold walls she tires of the cycle, of want and need and loss change is frightening but she reaches out for it a girl stands at the doorway to her future and cries terrified of what comes next, afraid of one thing: she cannot bear the thought of loosing what affection and what beauty and what hope she finds in the two she cannot keep from loving others, wanting more, all the while feeling herself tremble - she knows a girl has nothing, owns nothing, and the ones she cannot imagine life without could choose to leave her she watches her own actions pushing away her friends and wonders silently when the ones she loves will go she does not doubt this fact: she does not deserve their love and company; they do not deserve her, too Hosted by Diaryland - All Rights Reserved - Image, Layout, and Content copyright Jax Raven - - Do Not Feed The Moose - |
