It is cold in my house. It is colder outside. It is cold in my heart.
I hold onto my hate because it is dependable. I hold onto my anger because it keeps me safe. I hold onto my cynicism because it is sometimes all that I have.
I walk out on good women and away from women I love. I shy away from all that might be great, because it has the chance to cause me horrible pain.
I hate women. That I hate at all is a terrible waste.
Will this ever get better? Will I ever face a Christmas without pain and loneliness, without me pining over an ex, without trolling match, without some sort of self-inflicted drama?
I can count my happy Christmases on one hand and still have plenty of room left to flip you off. That sucks.
The answer? Perhaps I need to fly south for the winter. Perhaps, actually, I need to fly south altogether. Fuck norcal, fuck San Francisco, fuck home, fuck bay area elitism, and... damn I really wanted another "fuck". It just felt right rhythmically.
1 comment:
Trying to stay warm on this gloomy December morning, not my favorite time of year. I remembered that this time of year was also difficult for you. Stopped in to see how you are doing and if the season had spurred you to write again; I really enjoy the way you write. So honest, fearless. A lot of your observations resonate with me. Imagine my surprise to see myself mentioned. Frankly, I would read your blog even if I knew that we were never to meet again and you never mentioned me again. I respect the journey you've had and am curious to know how things turn out for you. You've been silent for a long time. Of course, it's a tricky thing, my wanting you to post. I've noticed that you tend to write more when you're having rough times than with good (at least on this blog... you'd mentioned you had others). I want you to be happy and doing well, but I miss reading your posts. Can I say that in these last three posts your voice sounds... more wise than before. Your insights are more poignant.
Ha ha. I did browse your profile, but then never saw it again. Impulse purchased match recently. I've been so busy and distracted these days, I thought maybe seeing it was a figment of my imagination. The internet is now a place where you can bump into people, amazing.
I wonder what it is you wonder? Whether I still read? Yes, although with long spans in between. It's been an eventful year. I try not to comment on your posts because I wonder if the thing that allows you to be so raw is the anonymity of the blog. Since that's my favorite part, I'm self-interested in staying in the shadows. Maybe it's precisely because we never knew each other very well, you felt comfortable sending me the link to your blog. I get the impression that it's not something you share with many people.
So, for what it's worth, here are a few of my unsolicited thoughts. I hope you don't mind that I'm going to indulge and make a comment or two on your other recent posts, and then I promise to give you back your anonymity.
P.S. If it's all the same to you, I prefer Tre to Tracy.
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