December 2010
12 posts
tumblr4men:
Yeeeeeeees. It really is the answer!
I could never understand how you sat still, straight and aligned so perfectly, as I jittered, picking and unwinding. I was so nervous with your stillness. It gave me unease with the way you looked so unbothered, all precise and proper. I would never understand how you always looked so indifferent.
The room flickered, blue, from the television we stared at. I wondered what your mother...
I am a nervous person.
“I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time;...”
–
I hope everyone had a very, merry Christmas and spent the day loving not only the people who love you, but also loving the ones who need it most. Charles Dickens’ words applied in the 19th century, just as they do today. Merry Christmas all.
I’ve been feeling a little sad lately.
I’m not quite sure of the cause of it either. When I look at all the factors of my life, I think that I should be happy right now.
But I’m caring too much about things that shouldn’t be important to me, for I know I have everything I really need. You used to be the one keeping me in check.
I can’t wait to see you...
In elementary school, it was okay to chase boys, sprint across the campus, plead for their attention. It was okay to scream nasty things to them and cause a scene, hoping that they’d later talk about me, even if it was only to say how annoying I was. Because then it meant that they were thinking of me, and that used to be good enough.
Nowadays this game of chase has newer rules, more...
When it’s quiet, there are these pictures that creep into my head. I think that they must be memories, compressed as they are, because I remember them. I feel them, and see them, smell them, taste them. They are almost tangible, accessible, real.
I think that they must be, unless my mind has a way of creating a false reality that plagues the memory lines of my thoughts, unless they...
I went Christmas shopping today. I spent a lot of money, and none on myself. It felt good. I can’t wait for them to open their gifts.
There are moments when I truly wonder why I do this, how much easier it would be to just float, to lift without the weight tugging down on the soles of my feet.
I wonder what the other people feel like. I wonder if they have that similar itch, the annoyance that presses and presses and scratches, digging and creating scars. I wonder if they experience the squeeze, the one that grips my throat...
This made more sense to me than I think it should have.
“The Box Man” by Barbara Lazear Ascher
The Box Man was at it again. It was his lucky night.
The first stroke of good fortune occurred as darkness fell and the night watchman at 220 East Forty-Fifth Street neglected to close the door as he slipped out for a cup of coffee. I saw them before the Box Man...
“Brittni.”
“Hey, Brittni!”
“Come here, Brittni.”
“Stop running, Brittni.”
“Brittni!”
“Brittni!”
“Brittni…”
The twinkling, sarcastic circus music filled the background with blaring white noise as various colorful figures danced around me, jabbing and screeching. In the midst of it, they had learned my name, and they were now using it as a dagger. From the left, and the right. Left,...