| a day like any other day, lalala, HEY! me starts a breached conversation by replacing �i� with �me� to make you think me witty and-blending Japanese characters against a 1984 neon pink background is probably one of the most beautiful images i�ve ever imagined. so you tell me how it�s always all about me and i smile, as giddy as a birthday girl. i like how your salad dressing motion soothes me like a sunburn in a polar beat�s gut. your alien eyes narrow at everyone with love and contempt. i like the way your quiet, calm disposition hides what i love about you most so well. we synchronize our cd players and maneuver ourselves into different positions, trying desperately to get better reception in the darker part of a shadow. but wait�i missed something in the way you said it, didn�t i? there was something in the pitch, something like remorse and resentment�you didn�t mean it like i thought, did you? �you don�t take anything seriously, do you?��you do the craziest shit��you say the craziest shit.��you like the craziest shit.� and suddenly i�m plunged into a thick panic and sheer terror as i realize that you actually meant them all in a most sarcastic manner and not in the loving way i always imagined. Uh-Oh! dundundunnnn�time for pink marshmallow duckies and intravenous coca-cola! time for meals of ding dongs and twinkies. time for soap operas and entertainment tonight. time to read the tv guide. time for sappy love movies and harlequin novels. time for obsessive gnawing on fingernails and chewing of bubblegum. time for chain smoking and super model stalking. time for improvement gurus and 10 Ways to Better Hair Days mantras. 150 pounds later, i decide to redecorate my insides. my walls, once covered with beck and bjork, are now bombarded by backstreet boys and britney and i�m just not trying anymore, i know. years and years peel away and-waitaminute, you�re packing, aren�t you? tooth brush in a pink plastic case, shampoo snuggly against your undies�don�t think i don�t notice! i knew it! i totally called it! i told you you couldn�t take it! i was RIGHT!�.wait, i forgot what i was saying�..oh yeah�. so go, leave, go, that�s fine, i�m fine, we�re fine, i�m fine, everything�s fine, so go, leave, go! (you really are leaving, aren�t you? shit�) hey! um, wait, um, remember, um, remember�that Ants in My Pants show? remember when i totally fell in love with the lead singer and was convinced he made eye contact with me in a crowd of 2.6 million fans and was instantly in love, too? and you said i was absolutely insane, that he wasn�t smiling at me, that any eye contact i imagined was riddled with his embarrassment for me, that if he ever was actually able to focus on my monstrosity, he would most likely puke or laugh or run away in pure terror? remember? remember when, on the way back, you were driving and i was sobbing in that choking, suffocating, wheezing way that might require eventual CPR? you said you were sorry and you�d never leave again. remember how you promised and begged me to calm down? (that has to work. a promise is a promise and there most certainly is.) you promised nothing i could do or say would ever change your mind. you promised no matter how chaotic it got, how bizarre i might become, you would not leave. you promised you would protect me until the day we died. you promised you would be better and not make me cry anymore. and everything changed for a long, long time. it was all about me and stuff, remember? nothing i could do would make you think that way about me again. but then i�m sitting in my grandma giant underwear on a dirty kitchen floor, one hand spilling diet dr. pepper down my shirt, one hand shoveling roasted chicken in my mouth, one hand wiggling its fingers deep up my nose, one hand scratching vigorously at my contaminated crotch, one hand handling a cigarette like a newborn, one hand slapping the jolly belly of a starving beluga, one hand twitching with sleep paralysis, one hand obsessively painting trailer home wheels, one hand dialing a radio station, one hand strangling blackened pillows, one hand writing you �dear john letters�, one hand writing you love sonnets, one hand plotting your murder, one hand firmly sealing the light from my eyes, one hand swinging your hand back and forth, one hand made into a puppet that talks to you breached conversations�.and then you say that�s too much! but a promise is a promise and there most certainly is. (there�s a long, long silence between us right now. you�re thinking it over and i have to convince you to stay.) (hand puppet) �hello, senior/seniora. c�mon estas? al derrocar a un dictador, los ciudadanos deben congregar-cuando los cuartos de ba�o son �full�usar los�bushes.� heeheehee! " wait�don�t go- |
| bloated |