This
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

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