scars

_It's hard for me. To let people in. Hard for me to share my joy, my excitement, my resentment, my fear. Hard for me to share my sadness, my pain, my secrets. I have them. Secrets. Big ones, small ones. Ones that seem big but really are quite small.
_When we have scars we remember the pain and size of the original wound, not the faded old mark on our skins. Scars are merely what we show the world. But it leaves a mark much deeper than can be seen on the surface, permanently changing us.
_Some things you cannot mend. Try as you might. A crystal vase, bumped off the edge of an endtable, shattering across the floor. A vehicle twisted and tangled, a once prized possession now a heap scrap metal. An antique hope chest ravaged by an unforgiving fire. Or a tortured soul, battered and bruised, hidden and apprehensive.
_And so it's hard to forget. Hard for me to move on. Hard for me to allow myself happiness, to invite serenity. And it's hard for me to be honest. Honest with myself and honest with you. But any apologies would be feeble attempts to... to what? To uncover those wounds and let you in? To set myself free? To experience tranquility and the longed-for peace among my unsettled emotion? A question whose answer seems, at this point, futile.

not the same

I'm not the same.
I'm not the same as I was 10 years ago. I'm not the same as I was 3 years ago.
I'm not the same as I was last week. I'm not the same as I was yesterday.
I'm not the same as I was 4 hours ago.
I'm not the same.
I'm different.
I am better. And I am worse.
But I am not the same.

it's okay

he had ugly feet

He had ugly feet. I had once been told that I should be a foot model. They're cute and, besides the pinkie, dare I say perfect. But his were ugly, and wide, and one of the most hideous pair I'd ever seen.
Strange that this it what bothered me, his ugly feet, rather than the events that had transpired the night before. The events that ultimately led me here, staring at his ugly feet.

Maybe an ugly pair of feet is about the biggest trauma I can endure. Ugly feet are my shield.

my rant and my apology

*As posted elsewhere during my little temper tantrum.*

I’ve realized something recently. I think my spirit is dying. Cause of Death: School… mostly.
The homework and the studying are taking everything out of me. It’s all I ever do anymore. By the time I take a break to relax, I have no energy and I’m in such a dull mood that even attempts at excitement fail. Now there are only the occasional, unexpected bursts of the old me, and I think this is becoming a serious problem. I bore myself. But what can I do? Not study? Not do my homework? You see, I’ve developed this sick idea that I and my grades have to be perfect. I’m a very logical and rational person, but sometimes what I know logically to be true isn’t what I let myself believe. Therefore, I feel guilty for things that I know I shouldn’t feel guilty for, things I know others wouldn’t expect me to feel guilty for. So now, blowing off studying makes me feel irresponsible. Guilt is not a pleasant thing to experience.
Then again, neither is a dying spirit.

I think guilt is a big part of it though, and it’s not just the guilt of having fun. It’s the guilt of not being around. It’s the guilt of not being able to control situations that (logically) I have no control over. It’s being plagued with the guilt of not answering my fuc#ing phone at 7 in the morning. God, I’m such a jerk. It was “too early” but you were standing next to the overturned car that you were fuc#ing lucky to crawl out of alive. While you were rolling your car, I was rolling over in bed, asleep. I’ll be answering my phone from now on.

I got a text message about 2 weeks ago from a friend back home. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to be in her apartment with a screwdriver in my hand. Instead, I was here with an analysis book in front of me. And why did I yearn to be in her apartment so badly? Because her apartment is the land of the carefree (also the land of alcoholic beverages, but this is beside the point). Remember when I was carefree? Remember when I could jump in the puddles without thinking, “hmmm, I should probably finish that homework”?

My own damn fault though, right? I was the one that decided I could tackle a math major and now I’m the one that has to suck it up and deal with that. If my mother were hearing this she’d say, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” But ya see, at one point I had this false self-esteem that, foolishly, had me thinking that I was a smart, intelligent person. I was told I had a "bright future" and that I had "a lot to offer the world." That self-esteem isn’t around at the moment. Over the summer I had a nice little argument with my boss and it really pissed me off at the time. I’m finally starting to see his point though. I really wish that just one person had been honest with me. People telling me that I was smart didn’t help me out any, did it?

Well screw that. And another thing, why do I need any of this anyway? I learned this summer that having a brain isn’t going to get me anywhere no matter what I do. Apparently, it’ll always be about my “hot little ass”. Makes a girl feel pretty cheap. Ya know what else does? Have you ever been harassed while innocently trying to clean the men’s bathroom? I have. It’s bastards like that… Whatev. Logically I know that not every guy is a creep like the many I’ve had the pleasure to meet. But I’ve had them fool me.

Much to my horror, I was called out on the whole not being myself thing the other day. It seems it’s been noticed by more than just me. They were like, “Kate, what’s up with you? Suddenly you have nothing to say? You look like you’re a million miles away from here right now.” Apparently, my little moments are becoming noticeable.

So basically, I apologize. If you live with me, live near me, are related to me, have classes with me, study with me, are friends with me, have not heard from me in a long time because of this, or just plain miss the person I am without all of the stress… I am sorry. I'm sorry if you actually read all this. I'm sorry if I've been no fun. I can barely stand it myself, so I am sorry that you have to put up with it. If I’ve seemed distant, do not take it personally. And please, just don’t give up on me.

what happened?

I don't understand. I'm terribly confused.
I realize that I've never been very good at this game. I also realize that I tend to be paranoid. But I keep that to myself. So what is it? Am I being paranoid, or is something wrong here?
Things are different. I wished and wished for things that never came and I see these things slowly slipping further and further away. But grabbing for them will be no use. It will be worse that way. And now I just don't know what to do.

when the cooler is occupied

You almost brought me down.

I don't get it. Do you think you're complimenting me? Am I supposed to find it flattering? Because you're not, I don't, and you're pushing my limits. Normally, I can brush it off with an uncomfortable laugh or sarcastic grin, but a girl can only take so much, ya know? It's getting a bit sickening. You're not unique, so stop thinking you're anything special. I wish I could say that your comments have stopped shocking me, but they still catch me off guard sometimes. I don't think I'll ever understand. It's inappropriate is what it is. Inappropriate and unappreciated.

I've come to realize that my education will never be the determining factor of my success in life. My intelligence will always be secondary. A little disconcerting, don't you think? So what's the use? My brain, my work ethic, my reliability, my pleasant demeanor... they're just extra. It seems it has always been more about having my "hot little ass" around. Is the way I look the only value I bring to the place? To think, I was naive enough to believe that I was actually valued for those more respectable qualities. To think, I believed myself to be respected. To think, I trusted you.

My "hot little ass" has grown tired of it. I don't known when I've ever felt so cheap in my life. Cheap. Nothing but a fine ass and pretty face. Is it so much to ask to just be respected, respected for something real? This is why I need to be back at school where I can get good grades and be respected for something more then the way my ass fits in my jeans.

So stop. Don't be a creep. Keep your comments to yourself because I don't want to hear them. You're not going to win me over and make me fall madly in love with you by saying inappropriate, tasteless, obscene things. It isn't appreciated and it just isn't right. In fact, I believe it's called sexual harassment.

from zero

restart the count
from months now in minutes
the loss of control all over again

restart the count
clean the mascara from your pillow
shower until the pipes run dry

restart the count
write out the words
relive the past of fear and frustration

restart the count
your life is in your hands
you only need to remember

restart the count
tell yourself this is the beginning
not the end

restart the count
the last count ends
but a new one begins