april 9th, 2008--12:45am to 6:15pm--- and end scene.

the writings of an evening destroyed by my own mind----->


(1)

There is a certain sad shame
That wont seem to leave my side
And it slept with me all night
Taking up this couch
And I’m very sure
That when I leave
It will follow me




(2)

When I take off the sullen trails of black glitter
That have seemingly burnt themselves down my cheeks
And are only the least of last nights brokenness
Maybe I’ll be able to shake these thoughts
And gently wipe them away
With everything else that made me beautiful last night
And leave them with the black and rouge stained tissues in the bin
if I could forget my memories of it all
as easily as I’ve forgotten what shirt he wore
then I would be okay
I wish this burning acetone could be enough.
To burn away my memories as easily
As it does the color from my nails
His shirt was purple.





(3)

Last night, i watch the shimmering amber
of a lofty smoke fall to it's end
and die like a hopeless shooting star
slowly burning out in fits of rising smoke

how it began:
it shoots across my face, demanding my attention
so, i follow it's descent with my eyes
and watch as it hopelessly fights to stay alive,
-certainly hopeless, for all fire dies eventually, right?....of course.....right?--

and so, its dying, or fighting, but really dying
and all of this fighting and dying manifests itself
in a not-so-grand, but certainly final, puff of remorse
in which the one last glimmering dot of amber
goes black--

and at this moment,
when the poor, hopeless thing goes out
i become suddenly aware
of just exactly how abject and low humanity really is

as I stare at the proximity (about an inch) of the burning ash
To my beautiful suede high heel, thank you marc jacobs,
and see that little smudge of ash- the minute dot-
just below the delicate bow at the arch of my left foot
the little ash, so unaware of it's grand offense
lets all hell loose, and, ironically, sets fire to my temper.
i blink.... keeping my eyes on my divine shoes
(that are now only seemingly pleasant-looking)
slowly e x h a l e.....
pause.
and determine that somebody is going to die

--and i. am. fucking. livid.--

how dare some stranger be so careless
i cringe with disgust at whomever did the flicking
at the abesent-minded, vacuous idiot
who already tainted the night with his sickening sin-stick,
sickening. sin. stick.
and then, upon finishing the filth,
carelessly flicked it away
negligent to the powers of potential destruction
held within the little end of his pathetic device
that he abjectly let consume his lungs just seconds ago
and turn them black--ooh yummy!--
in exchange for a deplorable 'cool factor'
demonstrative of the 'in crowd' of black-lungers
those non-conforming frauds,
seething with disdain and self-doubt
that i'm certian he is just dying to be a part of
and it is-this- self-involved, vile conformist
that will die by the heel of my $600 pumps.

So with anger already laced amidst my breath
I break my stare, and begin raising my accusatory eyes to find the culprit
But before I can even begin to look,
before my eyes have any chance to search
they land and lock--lock-- on her.
and i no longer want vengance for my heels
(forgive me, marc jacobs)
the bastard black-lung will go unpunished

I see her walk into the bar--
and it feels like someone has swung a huge wooden board
flat into my face and chest, knocking the air out of my lungs
and sending all sounds reverberating off off my heartbeat
and i am suddenly lightheaded, i can't hear anything,
i can't breath. she is here. she is here. i can't balance. she is here.
she's never here on tuesdays.
from across the dirty hopeless room i stare
she's picking apart the crowd with her eyes,
standing on her tiptoes...looking looking looking..
i know she's looking for him,
she's never here on tuesdays.
she finds him,--- i hold my breath-- my eyes follow her
her thin frame breaks the drunken crowd with difficulty
and now she's standing there, she's standing there
his left hand moves to his pocket, exept his thumb
which is hooked just outside of the pocket
he's leaning on the tall table, supporting his weight with his right arm
which holds his drink- he looks at his drink
let it be empty, please let him leave to get another
please please please.
i keep staring, --oh my shoes! the ash!--
she shifts her body to mirror his, with her left arm on the table
I watch her pull back her straight blonde hair
--im not a blonde anymore, and my hair, my red hair, is curly tonight--
To flirtatiously reveal her bare shoulder and protruding collar bone
--my collar bone isn't so obvious--
her cascades of friends behind her form a protective circle
--my friends are here, i have my friends too--
around her and him, it is subtle, but i notice--I NOTICE--
they've been well trained,--- who wants a treat? too many calories for them anyways.
oh fuck fuck fuck.
they're simultaneously guarding her from the girl that is me
--me me me not her her her--
while locking him in, doesn't he see? come on!
--my shoes, my beautiful marc jacobs shoes!!--
i am still staring, i wish my eyes were lazer beams
i would do something really evil with them, but not too evil
--she obviously has good taste in men--
she hasn't done anything wrong, she really hasn't--
-what am i doing? rationalizing? GAH, stop this,
i'm most certainly allowed to be irrational, i've just had my shoes ruined
but i don't care about my shoes i care about
she sits down now, --why why why? don't sit, don't stay! LEAVE!-
and crosses her thin legs towards him, right over left
i watch as she coyley moves her right foot in a circle
--her shoes are hideous--
she is holding onto the table with her left hand
her other hand is hidden from my sight by one of her guards
--they're shoes are ugly too, except girl #3, i like the color of hers--
i want to go over there-no- i want to stop staring,
my stomach is churning, my hands are sweaty,
i still can't breathe. im lightheaded....its her fault...
im paying no attention to what my friend is
so excitedly telling me (something about Ward...he said something of importance....)
she does the hair thing again, only with the other shoulder,
it's equally emaciated.
her wrists are so thin.
doesn't he need a refill yet??
and now she's smiling with purpose, a flirtacious smile
her teeth are so big
--my teeth aren't big--
she glances down to the right while smiling
i reconize the tactic
she brings her right hand to pull her hair from her face
she holds her hair back, still smiling
with her head facing just a little bit down
and slowly she raises her eyes to his
its from the books! it's a used, used, used tactic.
he has got to see through it, right? the coy look.
she lets go of her hair, it falls perfectly straight
--my hair never falls so straight--
why can't i move? why can't i look away?
what is he thinking? why can't i move!?
she never comes on tuesdays.
i don't care about my shoes--
she never comes on tuesdays.
i don't think i will ever begin to understand
how she has power
how she--SHE-- and no one else in my world
has the power, the gosh forsaken power,
to make me question myself
and question everything i am
and everything i'm usually so proud to be
i don't think--i'm still staring--i can ever understand
why or how she has this power
and she doesn't even know she has it
but the power she has floods me with self-doubt
and makes me want to reject everything i am
in exchange for the ability
to smile when i don't mean it at all.

i'm still staring. my shoes are ruined.
lauren snaps her fingers in front of my face
'madeline!...'
i turn to her
i can't watch this anymore
not because he's talking to her
or she's talking to him
but because i refuse to ever question who i am
and refuse to let her have that power--
and besides, Ward just said lauren's belt was hot, can i believe it?
and then he kissed her forehead and his hand was right here
and he did this with her hair, did i see? do i think he likes her?
i say of course i do. she giggles and squeals, and did i see him holding her hand?
and that is why lauren is beaming
and that is my saving grace.
she looks at my shoes and gasps.
"holy (pause) shit" she says.



i won't go into detail--but i was upset...and the second i let him into my mind was the second things were better--it's difficult to talk, to share things, when i had/have become so accustomed to solitude and secrecy....the lesson i learned: girls overanalyze and misinterpret. i am a girl, i overanalyzed and misinterpreted and ended up wiping my running mascara on the shoulder of a friend at 4am for reasons that i later find out, were of no importance.... hours later, the next morning, i went to his house with a steadfast determination to tell him why i was upset- no lies, i promised myself i'd be honest, and not hold back anything i wanted to say.... it was so difficult, and it took courage but, i said what i i had to say.....we spoke, he kissed me, i took a nap, and the end. ---it's difficult giving up my the solitude and secrecy--i am a child of my own upbringing, and from what i know, honesty = vulnerability = bad times....and secrecy + solitude = control, protection, pain-free........i've learned that being honest leads to be being beaten down and bruised.......for so long, all i've known is how to be secretive, how to hide, how to lie, how to manipulate, how to always be in control....and it's hard as hell to force myself to be honest and not hold back things that need to be said...