unedited.
2002-11-20, 5:42 p.m.
You want to know what I'm thinking, do you?
You want to know where it hurts?
Sit down, baby... You're in for a long fucking ride.
Maybe I should lift up my shirt, baby...
Point at my heart?
You fucking hurt me here.
You hurt me here when you threw me in the goddamn trash
Like a fucking tissue that you had cried into for three years
and suddenly didn't need anymore.
You fucking hurt me here when you say it wasn't a game...
Because that's bullshit...
It was a game with me like it was a game with him.
Love me, love me, love me babies...
Love me... and when you prove you love me...
I will run back to him.
(and don't fucking get me started on him.)
*pulls down her shirt*
Do you want me to fucking rip out my hair...
Peel back my skull?
You fucking hurt me here.
You hurt me here when you fucking pretend that you want to see me.
(Only when it suits you, of course).
Hey, baby, I'm here, and I'm bored...
And you, my dear, are backup.
I can spend time with you today
because I have jack shit else to do.
But, by god, don't you ask for one fucking tiny piece of my weekend
(when it's convenient for you, dear)
because that's HIS time.
(and don't fucking look around and wonder where all your friends went.)
Don't mention that *I* would drive four-trillion miles to see you every fucking day if I had to fucking walk. (it hurts me when he does that to you)
Did I ever mention why I came THERE to see you? It wasn't for some 3 day romp to end up in sex that you never fail to mention that you regret whole-heartedly (which hurts me more than you'll ever fucking know). I came THERE because YOU were sad. YOU were lonely. YOU had no one else. I CAME THERE TO BE YOUR FRIEND. NOT TO FUCK YOU. So fuck you.
It fucking hurts me HERE when you make up excuses for him.
It fucking hurt me HERE when you said I would never leave her for you. And you proved in seconds that I will never compare to HIM. But you won't tell me why.
It fucking hurts me HERE because I'll never understand. I will always feel inadequate.
*slips her brain back where it goes*
Do you want me to pull up my sleeves?
Show you all my little scars?
Do you want me to count them for you?
27.
I've begun to cut back over them so there won't be new ones.
No new questions.
27 scars cut open again and again every time I fucking sit here and wonder where all of my friends are.
27 scars cut open again and again every fucking night i sit here alone drinking vodka and popping pills that I don't even know the names of anymore.
27 scars cut open again and again every time I hear about what everyone did this fucking weekend while i was at home fucking cutting.
27 scars cut open again and again as fucking practice when i finally get the balls to push down a little harder.
*pulls her sleeves down*
Do you want me to pull back my hair? Show you my eyes for once?
Maybe you'll see something you haven't seen before.
Fucking pain. Fucking rage. Fucking tears that you'll never know I've cried. Every time I have to hear about him. And what a fucking mistake I was. "irrevocable... irreparable". Well maybe, honey, I don't want to fix that. I don't want to fix anything. Because I didn't fucking break it. I didn't fucking stop it. And I didn't fucking say no. I ran away. Yeah, I fucking ran away. But you have your whole world ripped to fucking shreds and see if you fucking stick around. I ran away because I was tired of fucking hearing about him. Of fucking watching you mope around about him.
And now I'm fucking rambling.
*pulls herself back inside her shell*
You wanted me, unedited. Well, here it is baby. Here it fucking is.
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