i’m tired of being the interesting one
i’m tired of having fun for two
just lay yourself on the line
and i might lay myself down by you
but don’t sit behind your eyes
and wait for me to surprise you
not being with someone has never been more exhausting. i don’t know whether i’m trying to convince myself i don’t want to date at all, or that i just don’t want to date him. the prospect of having a boy message me at 4am because he wants to come over and kiss me on my birthday, or the fact that a friend told me i was pretty (no, but for real, kidding aside, so pretty), those things… from those different people, still have me on my toes- wanting more.
i feel like i’ve been hiding. when i moved out of me and andy’s house, i spent four months drowning in drugs, sex, & alcohol (and had the time of my fucking life) and now i feel so far gone. i pulled myself out, found a place to live, and got back on my feet. sometimes i worry that i spent so many years feeding my demons that i’ve lost myself entirely. do you ever feel that way? like you’ve spent so much time being bad that being good seems to involve too much effort. that’s how i feel. i see the bad in people because i know i’ll break whatever good that’s left inside of them.
i don’t want to be responsible for that.
when m. was gone and i was living in our attic apartment alone while he was on his coke binges, i used to come home and passout in bed with my shoes on, listening to records really loud. i wanted to remember what it was like to care so little about things that would normally make my skin crawl. like wearing boots in bed or falling asleep to the angry slur of subhumans. when m. would finally come home i never had anything to say. i would anger-fuck him until my legs went numb and then i’d get drunk when he’d leave again. was it simpler to just be ignored, and live my life as a single woman until he’d come home again? fuck, sometimes i don’t even know. did he damage me with the abuse? or did i damage him because i didn’t give a fuck?
my best friend left the city a few months ago. the weekend before he left we spent the afternoon in bed snorting k and listening to morissey. i don’t even fucking like morissey. but i remember thinking this was the last time i’d ever have him this way. he was so pure, you know? i never loved anyone the way i loved him- without ever having to do anything at all. we just laid there and laughed. i felt my whole body go numb- i couldn’t even cry if i wanted to, and i remember really wanting to. when the sun finally fell we walked down the street to pick up beer and we drank until we forgot.
you see that’s just what i mean.
i get so angry with these people sometimes, i just want to forget. i want to forget how to cook a decent meal from scratch, or sort laundry like my mother does, or hold someone until they fall asleep. i want to forget how to meet families, or hold babies, or love someone so hard my insides shake. i want to forget because it always gets ripped from me.
it’s so much easier to stay out until 4 in the morning than it is to get everything done that needs to get done before 10 o’clock on a wednesday. it’s so much easier to fuck dudes you don’t have to call back than it is to invest yourself emotionally in a person who will likely fuck your best friend or pin you against a wall and scream at you for being useless. it’s so much easier to fall asleep facing the wall than it is to try and find someone who actually meshes with your body- someone who just fits when all you want to do is sleep. it’s so much easier to flirt with all of your friends because you all have so much in common, than it is to find someone who genuinely wants you- only you, for exactly who and what you are.