depiction4

Daisy recalls a time in her life when she felt appreciated, accepted and maybe even respected. It was several years ago, looking back now she sees that it was a crock of shit. It is only with time that these things are understood, only with patience that others will know who she is.

There is no way that Daisy could ever admit to her feelings towards food. Only because she hated it loathed it and avidly refused it. Sometimes it was tempting to eat but often she had no desire to. She drank Ovaltine to make up for lost nutrients

Daisy wonders about her socks. She always wears knee socks but doesn�t know where they come from. Somebody must have made them, but in her lifetime she has met no one who makes socks for a living. She pictures girls with long straight hair slaving away in rundown factories in China and Taiwan. Although the labels always say made in the USA, Daisy finds it hard to believe, who in the USA is making these socks?

Walking the industrial zones of a dead city Daisy is assaulted by the scent of old garbage. Old rumors left hanging in the air by mouths that can no longer speak are faintly audible beneath the sound of the nearby freeway. I know who I am and I don�t care if others see someone else. She repeats this over and over in her head. Daisy can read the signs of an entire century of wasted time, empty buildings and vacant streets; what it had once been didn�t matter, it had amounted to nothing. Here and there the neon signs of bars and strip clubs lit up the streets revealing litter and cracked sidewalk. Why does everything eventually become unwanted or useless? Why do humans insist on paving over the earth?

Friends aren�t forever. They never have been, a few people will stick around but these people aren�t common. Daisy has observed that there are different types of friendships, the first stage of any relationship involves getting to know each other, often after doing this the parties involved will go their separate ways. Sometimes after two people know each other well they choose to continue spending time together, because they actually like each other. Even when this happens, Daisy tries her hardest not to become emotionally dependent on the friend. She knows that if she needs anyone, they will disappear. You can count on no one but yourself so never assume that someone will be there for you, because they won�t. One night a few months ago Daisy recollected drinking a bottle of rum alone, sitting in a yellow chair. She left a lamp on and listened to the same song over and over again. �Lord knows I�m weak�� this line haunted her and the rest of the lyrics seemed to describe her life, Daisy wept. The phone rang and she stumbled towards it, Daisy fell upon her knees as she reached for the receiver. The voice on the line was the boy who claimed to be her true friend. He knew she was upset and he told her to turn the song off. Daisy refused and realized that he was only a block away, yet he did not come to help her, he left her on the living room floor mournful and empty. He didn�t know Daisy he still does not.

Daisy remembers bingeing on acid for two days this past winter. The end of the second day came and she could not believe what she now understood. The human population was greedy and selfish; no one cared about others or even about themselves. Everywhere Daisy went people were begging to be heard, but there was no ear that listened. Daisy wanted to be that person who listened, that person who cared, but she could not. Daisy�s presence caused mouths to close and eyes to stare. It was as if she did not exist as a person to others. Daisy wants to hear what worries and what ideas are being played in the minds of innumerable people, but everyone seemed to close themselves off to her. It was in this forty-third hour of LSD that Daisy curled into a ball on her bedroom floor screaming I want to listen. Nobody heard her.

Daisy inspects the burning end of her cigarette, the way the smoke spirals out to makes a wispy cloud is almost beautiful. Not quite photographic but perhaps an interesting pencil sketch.

Daisy recalls sitting on the couch smoking ganja when he last entered the room. He opened the door and walked in. Daisy looked up and said I�ve been waiting for you. He shot her a nervous glance, and spoke of his job, he�d held it for three days, he stopped as her words sunk in. He asked what she meant. Daisy explained that in slumber she had dreamt that he would come here and sing a song as he danced a dance. She said, I knew it would happen. The boy looked confused, Daisy just glared at him and said, You can�t manipulate me anymore, I know you to well. After that warm and sticky afternoon, the things that had once bound Daisy and this boy together began to push them apart.