rebecca meydey fiduccia

i am trying so hard not to do something stupid. trying so hard to sleep before sunrise. trying so hard to keep the ammo out of my gun. i wish i didn't hate you, more so every day
i could never have imagined we could ever come to this. i miss it. i miss you. now that you're gone i let the fox share my bed. he curls up on me and i feel like he loves me, but i don't know, maybe he's lonely too. i dont care how pathetic i am. i still have more balls than you. why do they wait at my door and fill up my voice mail while you have dissapeared like you never were at all. i am stuck remembering every promise every day you cried because you loved me, evryday we laughed and dreamed about the future and if only there had been a downfall. if only something had been truly wrong. because i can never forgive you for leaving me because you loved me too much. i've never heard of something so absurd. i never could've imagined you could betray me this way.
it only gets worse.

first of all- why the fuck are you even reading this? you should know by now this is where i come to bitch so no one has to hear it. you wanna listen to some angry bullshit, fine. but you're a fucking freak. and don't blame me. this is an outlet. not for entertainment. not for ex-boyfriends to keep tabs on me. but if youre fucked up enough to actually waste your precious time on my inane babble then be my guest. turn shit into gold if you can.
if only someone could explain what the fuck is wrong with me/the world/people in general....if only i could grasp some reasoning behind the push and pull-tides of life. the angry, cruel, irony that seems to shape every instance.
like what the fuck are people thinking, swallowing all your pills in your bedroom and calling it 'love' when they don't really know how to spell your last name yet? love. tell me you love me and i swear to god i will punch you in the face.
i seem to have become that girl who gtes drunk and hits people. granted i don't remember what happened last time. but supposedly i hit someone for 'trying to change my shirt' which i suppose is the same thing as trying to take off my shirt, in which case i'm glad i can still punch even when someone has drugged my drink. however i have two loose molars and i had a black eye on the other side of my face... how could i have fallen on BOTH sides of my face?
and how the fuck is it possible that after knowing some hopeless, junkie bitch who is essentially wasting oxygen and so miserable taht you should kill her just out of humanity, you could find it sensible to follow suit and start on the junk yourself. hell, you've spent thirty or so years struggling to get by and keep your head on straight as it is, why not put a nail in your own coffin... y'know, just to make it interesting. and you know i'm talking about you. what the FUCK.
i am living in that city i swore i was free of. i am living down the street from where he hung humself because i left him. i am making enemies for the sole reason that i don't want that kind of friendship. you know, the kind of friendship that involves me fucking you. and to all my asshole ex-boyfriends- i apologize, you were right. they just want to fuck me. i wanted to believe otherwise, but i was wrong you were right... hooray now we can all be miserable in the understanding of true human nature.
hey! you think i'm a bitch? good! fuck you too.
promises promises. dont make promises since yoou can't keep them and since the plausibility of an emotion that will outlast your next erection is slim to none, don't do me any favors. we're all 'adults' here. pretty words only make me want to kill you.
i am working heartlessly now. since i left my heart god knows where, because when shit gets scary, i guess its easier tho just start over.well, at least that seems to be a popular opinion, unfortunatley not my own. i guess what's easy has never been my thing. i have a fucking sugar glider and a fox as pets. so i'm the asshole really. i have these fucked up idealist perceptions of what love is. hell- it's tattooed on the back of my neck
agape.
all the promises. and i've been betrayed and abandoned because he loved me too much or something.... i can't understand. but for once i was happy, and for once i felt lucky. i miss the mountains i miss the air and the sky the stars and that mother fucking moon that has been promised to me time and time again. don't leave me with the moon,. the ever changing moon.... what was it juliet said? promise me the sun instead. that ever rising never fluxuatimg god forsaken sun that rises every fucking day invoking the same sense of dread it once did when i was willing time away and wondering in bewilderment at my own herats incessant beating. i'm ungreatful and insolent. unrepentant and faithless. so why am i stiil strong enough to fight when i don't know what i'm fighting for. to believe in something i know is hopeless?

you are an asshole and you are doing everything you can to forget every promise you made and every amazing moment and dream we both built,back when you said we would conquer this world, back when we had our whole lives before us, back when you said the only thing that would ever change would be my last name. well at least i've got that, curse that it is, you weak, spineless, cruel, jerk. i thought you were more- i respected you. i will never understand and i hate you more every day. and how dare youn ever blame me for that?

so now i am empty but i've got shit to do. armor i forgot to wera and better get the fuck on as fast as i can, because for a little while i was safe... and i forgot what it was like....
i've got more classes to pass than should be possible sober, so i better not fuck it up by risking it all on a few seconds of oblivion. i've got the two best shops in chitown as prospective employment. it's absurdly ambitious, but they wanna see more of my portfolios. if i were given the chance to work either shop- not only being around other artists as opposed to teaching myself all i know, but being around the best artists and the ones i started out with i would be capable of being what i've been striving for. i'm a great artist and i'll work my ass of but i need more understanding and discipline. i need more goddamn competition. i need to hear someone else's machines running. i need another artists techniques to put up against mine. all i need is to work side by side with other artists for a substantial period of time. so pass these classes, get into one of these shops, work my ass off then find a way to escape for the summer. come back in sept. finish it up then find a place to go. somewhere without snow. somewhere to set up shop, tattoo, run the fox around, let the glider have free reign, paint, and learn how to lead climb.
i tried to bench 60lbs last night. four years ago that wouldve been easy. last night it was pretty much impossible. i'll get a new bike, a couch, i'll count the fays till mid-may and bust my ass all the while and then i'll think, because right now i'm running my mind in cincentric circles that get angrier with each lap. it does no good and i gain no ground. this senseless life. i thought i had finally turned the corned and now i return. defeated and ashamed and with the same options there always were;

sink or swim.
cause noone's gonna do it for you.

and for the record- keep your pretty words and promises. i don't need them. they're nice but wholly unnessesary. next time i'll be true to my word and bludgeon you with your own limbs for feeding me bullshit. because it would be fun. for me.

"Morrow" by Stephen Mallame [embellished by Bill Given whom i miss very ver much, esp. in my drunker moments, like now]
with flowers, with women, with wine,
one can have a little fun, play one's role in some
non-drama.
wine drunk on a winter evening enlightens in green
the smoky soul,
and flowers around the one i love
give off scents before the shining fire.
then kisses lose their charms, having lasted a few
seasons.
mutual betrayals one day bring separation
without tears
letters and flowers are burned and fire lights the room
flickering, and if saddness is spared, wine
and hiccups remain.
portraits are consumed in the flames, my lifeless hands,
and still chair....
one dies for a while from sleeping too long
with flowers, with women
without flowers, without women.


agape.

people are stupid and hazardous. and you can never ever know what retarted act they will produce next. like big dumb dogs with rabies who forget the hand they just ripped off was the same one feeding them all along.
if i had a dick i would skull fuck something.
in anger.
obviously.
i am really trying to be an alcoholic, but it tAKES SO GODDMAN LONG TO REALly get drunk and no one will really hit a girl no matter how much you beg them to.

i don't know.


i could leave it there but.... here i am wasting time i don't have. i am a lucky lucky girl. after surgeries and that fear in our throats, joel don't have cancer. and he's quittting smoking and as much as i was like "well i'm quitting too then" i suddenly find myself needing to smoke more than ever, and drinking,.... in the mornings. i don't get drunk, but i'm not stupid, i know what it means that i need a couple bottle to face the day without my heart exploding. efren is gonna die. i want to see him. i tried, thanks to ethan, and spent the day crying in the airport and spending more money i dont have to get back home since i missed the flight by seconds thanks to some vengeful alarm clock incident. i work too much, (all the time) i think too much or too little, i'm not sure, don't take time to write or draw or be alone because there is always something. i don't like myself sometimes and i don't know why. i don't feel pretty i don't paint and i have no excuse to feel this way. i know there are things i need to process, i know i need to think and feel and not be constantly consumed by what i don't do well enough, what need to be done, what problems need solving, what lacking i have, work work work. i am the only income that shop has... and i won't delve deeper into that issue, but the thing is i know i am lucky. there is no reason to feel this way. i need to run to the mountains. i know my brains more than a little askew. it takes maintenence. theres no time for that when i work all day every day. but in two weeks i'll have a couple of days off. and maybe i can give up sleep and paint or write. i need to stop fearing everything. i need to stop somehow taking in whatever my client is feeling, like somehow through that machine i pull in their pains or spinning thoughts....i sound completely insane.
i worry they will cut off my right hand. it hurts and goes dead and a lump has formed at the wrist where i broke it. my viens aren't retunrining, just like the doctors said. i won't let them take it. i won't.
but STILL. i am so fucking lucky and life is so goddamn good and all the problems are so fucking .....just life. a part of life. i just need to keep myself sane, because as much as they keep pusing, i don't want their goddam drugs. pills that any give me new problems excpet their not even my own.....and now i need a drink. and then i will try to do what needs to be done and maybe sometime soon i can write or draw...sometimes late at night in the tattoo shop it's the only place i can hide and be in a space to do just that. my paintings are up now in a few places and theres been several offers for more. i just need to do them I JUST NEED TO FUCKING DO THEM.
i'm lucky. i'm free, i;m not miserable anymore, but i'm sometimes scared. even if i don't know why, and sometimes...i'm pretty lonely. it's differnet though. in every way.

where to next? when? why? how?

i need time to think. to find my peace with brian and nasu being dead from now on. from everyone else i never mournede. i need to run out into the woods and clear my mind. but i am always barely on top of what i need done, and i think i have lost whatever it was thata drew people to me. as much as i never wanted it, i just didn't understand what people wanted...i had nothing to offer. some conversation drunk in a bar with a boy who swears we met in chicago, described my house to every detail, people are attracted to what is fucked up at times. well, if that's thye trade in i'll take it. i'll take feeling plain and unremarkable. i must paint. i must get better at doing what i love. that's al;l that matters. and i must keep up with my head and all i need to do. what would i give for eight arms, twenty more hours in the day..... i want to create what i am proud of. i am but i am not complete without growing, drawing writing painting.... and there's no one here to work off...
i am so fucking lucky. i just need time.
it's hard still feeling like i don't belong, scary to think of losing all the epople i love because i'm too busy to be a good friend, to tell them how much they are in my thoughts. to belong with joel and no one else...i am so lucky but it scares me. it's what i used to believe i would never do. but in the end, i'm just lucky.

finally i'm alone in the tattoo shop. this girl dru has funded a shop in breck for her piercer boyfriend and i'm the sole tat artist. ahven't had time to get online in like 6 mos and i'm never not working in a way. in a tourist town when people want custom work RIGHT NOW and me being the only artist, well, the only walk in shops i've been in have at least 4 artists but usually 6-14. i don't think they know how hard it is at time but at leat now i don't have to hand draw ever fucking stencil. nasu is dead. brian is dead. i still take bath after bath every night and can't identify my emotions, i need to paint i need to think i need to run out into thew woods. i've been climbing or i was before the tattoo shop became my life (12 hr days 7days a week) and i love it. i am so lucky. i am happy. but i am human and this is life and i am self medicating (in more socially acceptable ways) and always blindly feeling my way, biting off more than i can chew and knowing i need to paint, write, think, talk to the people i am afraid i will lose,,,,so many people to lose... i am not complaining. i'm just a little lost sometimes. i'm alwasys trying to find a balance (aren't we all?) always a list that grows ten times faster than i can cross things off and i know i need to grow, to cultivate. not just work and prove myself and make the money.... i need to paint and get better and think and understand. i am so ridiculously human. after months of a broken and fractured wrist, casts on both arms, too much time on my hands and hating the world, i am suddenly too busy to sit and write, like i am now, and i feel guilty because i ave twenty other things to do and thats only since it's sunday night...were it monday morning i could be doing fifty other things that should take precedence. i'm at work all the time so if you wanna find me it's (970) 453-6063.
excuse the misspellngs, i dont have time to care and i type with two fingers. i have more to say than i coul breech right now. my internal dialogue is in a language i can't convey and it sounds alot more like 5 radio stations and a zoo full of starnge foreign creatures just before the monsoon. so consider yourself lucky if yer actually reading this.

what do you do when they die and everywhere you look is a letter, a cast of their goodam head or a piece of their old jewelry and every time you mourn them, in a way youre mourning twenty more you were too fucked up to feel before? and you gotta do it alone, so it's easy to skim over it, it's ahrd to hear yourself...


and before i deteriorate entirely into nonsense.....

i am freezing. my nipples are hard little rocks of pain like fists clenched tightly around metal barbells. i have maimed both of my wrists in a moment of snowboarding cockiness. hadn't ben up in three seasons (thanks midwest) and didn't have goggles and whatever, bottom line is as much as i pretended it was all good and "i don't break bones" bullshit, i kept bill and joel up all night crying in the bathroom. sooo. thus far we've established that a) doctors pretend to know what they are doing when faced with something they don't know what to do about b) it's all about who you know. seeing the right doctor, getting an appointment when everyones booked till next january, getting to use all the new cool xray machines that have low radiation and work like a tv screen (bones in motion!) and getting a cool space age cast instead of some acebandage/fiberglass abomination... whatever. and c)unless you have a trained monkey or enjoy being helpless (baby, will you turn this doorknob for me? will you unscrew this jar, will you dress me cause it's taken me an hour and i still can't get this bra to clasp....)its a bitch having limited to no use of either hand.
so they are talking screws in my wrist, my right hand took it worse and i NEED that hand. i have goddamn nightmares about losing those hands. still i see no reason to stop snowboarding. the damage has been done right? i try to paint and maybe it'll be good for me, losen up a bit. i can't tattoo though and people keep calling like maybe if they fuck with me enough i'll be like; "okay okay, you got me, i was just kidding about the CAST ON MY GODDAMN ARM AND THE BRACE ON THE OTHER, c'mon over, we'll just wing it."
it's wierd still, i guess it's adjusting or whatever. I AM NOT COMPLAINING, i know how good i've got it now but there are things and feelings that don't seem right. like brian. now that what i assume was a temporary blindness induced by emotional short circut has lifted, i see pictures ofhim and i everywhere,or things he gave me or left behind. i am reminded of him and i won't say it because it's too late. because it's no one else's problem. because i can't begin to mourn him now. i still haven't cried. i feel like a monster admitting that, but it hurts. hell, it hurts like my walls are caving in around my chest and stomach if i let it. but i don't. i am afraid of myself, ofhow i took the calls from people in tears, from his own mother, and i felt nothing but shock. and now what do i do? like some guy in a bar crying his eyes out and someon'es like "what's the matter dude?" and he's like, "kennedy got shot."

um yeah that was a while ago. it just disturbs me, there was no closure. this is still only real on the pages of a newspaper. a sad obituary and not what i know it really is to me.
i realize that now that i am not shooting dope four to six times a day after doing so for the past three years straight and the good part of a decade, that things are gonna take adjusting, but it's hard. to feel the things i do and not know why. to feel the same feeling i used to and want to kill it the only way i know how but ride it out instead. oerall i realize that as i used to say that no matter what i did or how hard i tried to make my life better it meant nothing as long as i was still trapped in the bathroom six hours a day. that if i couldn't get clean i couldn;t get anywhere really. and now that i've jumped that hurdle, it's all me. all the fucked up things i feel and the separation i feel from myself. the trouble with thinking straight or getting most anything done, the difficulty in making me do my work or knowing what to draw. ...it's all me and now that i am playing with a fair deck of cards i have no excuse but to fix them. i want my brain back. i want to kill the bricks that land in my gut without reason. i want to power to take this all away but i know i can't and although it's easier to forget now, i remeber what life was and ihated it, every goddamned second. but what i would give for just one hit....
still the truth remains i have no viens. theyve been trying to get blood out of me now for a while, sending me from place to place... blood is circulating somehow though, however slowly as i am freezing all the time. but there must be viens somewhere, mostly places i won't allow people to stab me with needles.
took joel home to meet the family. it's great how different i am treated now. i mean i may be good at getting away with being fucked up since you just can't pin it on me but there is a very clear difference between me on drugs or absolutley not on drugs.it was nice, but still i am faced with the family of my mother and her husband and my sister whom he adopted and then theres me. and most of all i want to do something with my life, i don't wanna be the kid to give up on as everyone had basically assumed, but i cannot be my sister; top of her class, stanford soph and fellowship this and paris that.... i wanna see the world though. i wanna be sucessfull and make my art and love what i do and .....
i've had enough.

my wrists hurt and i need a drink before my nipples pop off. and by the way chef....you know what you were to me and what you are to me. don't stress it. you know how it is. never ever do something fucked up and tell me its because tyou subconsciouisly are still angry at me, you have every right to feel what you do and no right to have any resentment towards me. i can't fully trust you and you've fucked me over time to time, but i always took you back didn't i? and i saved your life that time, so i must love you right? and i still speak to you so i obviously love you. everytime i am faced with my lack of hash i curse you, but most of all i have let it go and all in all you know i will always love you and there is no damage that cannot be overcome. i want the best fro you and i miss you. wish we could talk and see each other. one day we will. you sound good. that always makes me happy.

no more experimenting with alcohol concotions. youre not a mad scientist

and everyone else well, heh, i don't even know if you know this journal exists!

so it's unreal how much i love joel sometimes. there are times i think i fall in love with him ten times just in the fiveminute ride home. and it's crazy to feel so lucky.it's crazy to know how sickening i sound except this time it's because i'm so happy not because i'm so miserable and melodramattic. i mean i'm not one of those "happy people", i never will be, but i am happy.i'm one of those obnoxious people in love who thinks it can last forever. it's amazing to have him speak words to me i want to say to him. to not feel like there is anything uneven to throw off this balance. i feel like a car accident could happen at any moment. since it usually always does whenever there is a placid moment, and yet somehow i am not worried. i intend to keep him forever. i just hope i am lucky enough, or really a witch like he suspects. and i am not afraid of him and i can talk to him, he doesn't want my disease or want me to feed his, he doesn't want to pin me down behind glass so he can monitor and scrutinize my every move, he doen't want to own me, he doesn't have a freetsnding idea of who i am, he treats me like his lover and his freind. he wants good things, the things i want or the things i want to want. he makes me want them too. he makes me want this more than the sometimes overwhelming urges i have to kill the noises of my brain to put myself to sleep or dull the feeling in my stomach i know is often unfounded.i miss ethan. i miss the city sometimes and sometimes i am bored. i found it hard to paint yesterday. at least i have a sort of studio now. i'm seeing a doctor. i still don't sleep. still take at least five crazy baths a night. my brain seems either blank or on the brink of something very big and important, but never quite there. the panic that hits me swithout reason usually doen't go away no matter what i drink or how much i smoke and it makes me wana do dope. but i don't. i find needles and bags and i throw them out or give them to joel since i'm no good at throwing that stuff otu. like maybe it shouldn't go to waste, somebody could use that, i mean hey! there are children starving in china.
and i had a dream last night. cate nielson and julian wayser were in it. how strange. i miss them, they are both crazy but i miss them. like i miss the city. i miss the sun setting on the city, i miss the momentary feelings i got walking alone throught he streets riding my bike. i never feel that sort of aone anymore. mt roomate bill jokes tghat i am turning into a 'kept woman' and joel jokes bout me being his concubine. i don't need much money and i have a bit so the fcat that i am temporarily not working hasn't been a crisis. but it means alot of time to myself and i never feel productive. alotof time to be crazy. i watch my sugar gliders when i can't skleep. joel and i made a seconmd cage for the girl. she is the antichrist. he is so much better behaved now though he was in shock for a bit when he first heard her 'crabbing' or making thast crazy noise they make. he hasn't been around another of his kind since the puch. now when i let him out of the cage he just runs around and around her round cage chasing her. she's just a coy little bitch. i think they'll getv along just fine. for now it's on either side of the cage though. he's like twenty and she's like thirteen yeras old. creepy. a few more months at least. i won the halowween contest ( a $300 pass to a- basin) for the bear suit i made during inals freshman year and a wierd lemur mask i made recntly. too bad i don't know how to put pictures up. i think it was mostly because i had the glider/lemur between my boobs though. hmmmmm.m i need to tatoo more.
anyways. brian has been on my mind. i go back and forth between guilt and anger and grief i never trul;y feel. all the questions i can't answer. i find things he's given me everywhere i look and i get phone calls from people who didn't really know or like him crying and i feel nothing but a distant ache. i called his phone a week ago. his voice was still there. and it doesn't seem real. and i am afraid at how numb i am. i am sorry most of all.

i'm not sure if it's the altitude or the fact that i HATE working at the goat lately, not that it's THAT bad it's just that i don't sleep still, not till the sun rises which is half an hour before my alarm goes off and then i have to work for literally less than a dollar an hour since they say i can't collect hourly since right now theres just not enough money to go around, but "they" are my friends who are also in charge of the schedual who also take all the money shifts for themselves and will only make me wake up at the goddamned crack of dawn for pennies when they know i've got a court case comin up and then they have the balls to bitch about how they have to work such long shifts and so many days. what the fuck, i can't keep bringing it up and being ignored. anyways it could be that or the altitude or the fact that people kept pouring me shots at work and i did too, and then igot on the back of don's bike and rode to gators where i drank more and as drunk as i was i'm lucky i made it home but i don't remember much from there, but when i woke up i knew i had done something very wrong. i don't know how i got so drunk and i was such a mess and so ashamed and definitely had at the very least a mild case of alcohol poisoning. joel was gone and i knew that leaving with a strange guy was enough to upset him but being drunk off my ass was a bonafide reason for him to be justifiably upset. i felt awful, found a note from him on my way to throw up. he didn't come back till later and whn he did him and bill went on a walk. when he came back he didn't even look at me and i figured i should just leave, i almost had amy come and get me till i saw the look on his face. god i don't know why we were so hysterical but i do. i guess both of us are pretty new at loving at trusting someone else with your heart and having no defenses no back doors. i know that if i were to do it again i wouldnet even go off with some guy, in any other relationship i did what i wanted, whether that be go off with guys they didnt know or whatever, as long as it wouldn't upset me if they did it and it didn't seem wrong i didn't stop doing what i wanted to just because it bothered them. now i guess i can see myself getting upset about things i haven't before, and upsetting joel is the last thing i want to do, because it apparently upsets me so much too. i want his trust and i for the first time feel just as possessive and fragile as he ever could, so i guess things are gonna be different and i'm fine with that. i'm okay with giving up the chance to go on vacations with guys unless he can come. i'll have guys he doesn't know come over or i'll bring joel with me, i don't care. the laws of what would or wouldn't bother me are different with joel. it's so wierd. it's so scary when i think about it so i don't. i want it all, i want the impossible i want to believe in the fable they call love. i never ever want to be as drunk as i was yesterday.
and on another note, i tried out at purple lotus the oether day (the only local tattoo shop) and i think it went well . the woner wants me to call him about getting me in a few days a week, theyre a bunch of really cool guys. i'd feel so much better about things if i could work there and stay on as a permanent artist. i think i should learn how to drive. yeah. well, money is bad but it's not that bad. court is wednesday and the dentist is monday, don't know which i fear worst.

spent yesterday with joel and bill, tripping up a mountain (which was essentially my backyard) caught a snake and made played with him for a bit, then trailed a pack of deer up the mountain. they kept stopping and waiting for us then moving ahead. first we were following a pack of female elk and their young and then there were so many. in the end we were somehow following only bulls and young buck, and then they dissapeared. and i don't know what it was exactly but we saw the hugest jackrabbit ever, granted i've never seen one before but i swear it was about four feet long. it was HUGE, i mean really really big. then we climbed a bunch of rocks, saw a hawk (and it made that hawk sound that they do), chased the sun down to the lake and watched the sun set on one side just as the moon rose on the other, the colors were ridiculous, unreal, absolutely absurd. the stars and the coyotes came out and we followed the shore home. i am worried about red, it's so hard to see him so sick, i feel like a shitty friend, i worry about my court case, whoever thought that after all the stupid shit i've done i'd be facing a felony 5 for less than a gram of pot and less than a gram of hash. 1-3 years, mandantory 2 years probabtion, 1-100 thousand dollar fine. yeah, fuck you/ anyways they have no case and they're full of shit, but my word against theirs, i'm under no illusions that i do'nt need to worry. amy is still weird about joel and i but she's starting to talk to me again, good thing becasue i was nearing the point of beating it out of her, i know she's depressed, i understand too, i just can't bear to watch her sink into it. i can't bear to think that my coming out here could make her life harder, that i could be bad for her, as i have for so many people. and i fear what happened with mira so long ago, my getting clean and not being the fuck up anymore causing a violent end to our eight years of friendship. not to mention my scant collection of femAle friends. still, this is all easy, and i'm not complaining. i dont need life to be perfect, i just want to be happy, i can deal with life if i have something that fills me back up, and i have room to deal with this. i do feel a bit wierd, i still dont sleep at night, i still feel a bit out of it from time to time, and i still dont know what i'm thinking most of the time, and when i do it's nothing groundbreaking i feel a little plain. a bit useless, like i'm not thinking anyhting new, i'm not smart or articulate, and sometimes i don't feel like i'm pretty enough or interesting enough, especially next to joel. and i've never felt that way, i've never worried about whether i was good enough for someone else, this sort of insecurity. i just look at him and i don't see any flaws. i swear i don't it's scary because i am so full of flaws. not just - i'm a girl and i scrutinize myself too much- kind of flaws, but really obvious flaws, the kind you can't miss. i'm a little sick still, a little wierd, i get drunk at work sometimes and i drop things, i don't sleep at night but i'm tired in the morning and i take too many baths to ever be considered normal. my thighs are too big my legs are too short, i have a belly and my boobs aren't as pert as they were. i'm not in good shape, my fingers are always shredded and i haven't been doing as much art or writing as i should because my brain seems like it's been cleared out in the night, robbed and sparse and i don;t mind because most of what it was furnished with was trash or broken anyways but it does seem quite empty. and i know i am good and i know i'm not worthless and oh why would anyone want me boo hoo. no thats not what i'm saying i just haven't felt this kind of insecurity before. it's not very becoming so i keep it to myself, but if i fall for joel what defense do i have? i don't enjoy the knowledge that i deserve better than the person i am with, i don't like one way worship or knowing that i have the upper hand, in fact that sickens me and is always a sure sign that it will only be a matter of time before i lose interest all together, i love that i don't feel that way now, i love feeling lucky, it's hard feeling a bit defenseless though. like bareing your soft underside and hoping you won't get bitten. i think in time this will change, i don;t think it's shocking that after being a junkie and little else for three years i feel a little worthless. i'm a little scared though. like what if he changes his mind and i live with him already, what if i love him already. and already we talk like this won't ever end, and i'm afraid of losing it. you can't make this sort of thing happen, and before now i didn't belive it ever could. fairy tale or tragedy, i don't know. it's hard to rise to incredible heights without the thought that you could fall and how awful wou;ld that be crossing your mind. but it doent matter. there is no other option. i'm in. this what i've wanted for so long and now that i've somehow stumbled upon it i'm in with all i got. and i wanna go to italy i wanna travel and find myself again. i wanna see the ocean i wanna live by it. i wanna get string again. i want to fill up all the empty space i've left behind. and i hope soon ideas and energy come back and i can create something i am proud of. progress. and all i can do is believe him when he says what he does and wonder why i don't tell him i love him.

and get a lawyer.