last night i had a dream so epic that there's just no way that i could explain it all, here or otherwise.  it involved debauchery with a facebook friend i've only spoken to once, a bathroom in the bedroom where the water wouldn't stop coming out of the sink and toilet, causing there to be water damage everywhere and time on the phone with kmart trying to get them to pay for it.  then there was a "fatal exception" with a celine dion cd, and i had to press f9 or die, my mother dressed as a christmas tree and driving into the bank where shirley was manning the door, then stealing milk and butter from a cart, and everyone watching the disney world parade while i tried to be clever and ride rides instead.

which could explain why i am still tired this morning.

forget it all, i'm ready.  you hear me?  i'm so fucking ready it's almost scary.  i'm ready to let go of all that noise and move on, push past all this sad sackery and just breathe again.  my life in general (think job and love life) have completely destroyed my body and self esteem.  i was never like this before, and i think i'm finally ready to take back my life.

don't let me forget this, though.  never forget the will to live.

i understand the concept, of getting as good as you give.  i really do.  but somehow i'm still wild with laughter that run dangerously close to tears.

i feel sick with it, with impotence and distance and rips in the time/space.  i want to see you, to remember you, to be your friend but i think you're scared because you've found something good and know that i'll rip it apart.  because that's what i do.  my skills have tailored themselves to destruction, i want to burn down the whole world and you know that if you get too close you'll get caught up the maelstrom.

i think that's why you haven't called me.  i've only done what you (and you and you and you) have done once in my life, but it wasn't nearly the same thing because i didn't consider them one of my best friends.  i used to laugh at people who couldn't make it work, couldn't be friends after everything.  i used to think how sad it must be, to know that there's someone out there who knows everything about you and doesn't give a shit.

but now i know, that people are shit.  they really are, they get inside you and track mud everywhere, eat all your oreos and leave the fridge open.  people don't care about you, except when it suits them, and i'm just the same.  no one cares about anything but themselves, but i'm through beating myself up over the fact that i can't make you care.  maybe you weren't what i thought you were.  maybe i'm rambling, maybe it's all just noise and dust.  we're all going to be space dust in the end of things anyway, so maybe it's not that important that you're loved, happy, peaceful, useful.  maybe that just makes things complicated.  maybe that just makes it hurt.

it won't stop snowing.  if i thought it would help i would build an ark, but since i don't think you can float on snow i'll settle for staying in, drinking hot cocoa, shoveling... maybe making a snowman and watching zombie films.  there are worse ways to be trapped in your house.

besides, i think i've got a hot prospect, and i couldn't be more excited about it.

and while i can't wait until summer, this kind of winter is kind of nice, at least while i've decided not to drive in it and it's still white and fluffy and not brown and dirty.

and i want to move to england. forever.  let's imagine that life, yeah?

so if my google stalkings are correct you're married now.  i hope it isn't to that psycho girl that called me one night, and i hope you might be genuinely happy.  because through all the bullshit, believing the stupid shit he told me, the lies you told, in the end i can't help but burn a little.  my god, i miss your face.  i miss your eyes and your smile, your tight back and short legs.  i miss those shoes you used to wear and the way your hands were always so warm.  you had the biggest eyes and the boniest butt and the most skewed outlook on everything.  you were probably nothing but a cheater but i loved you nonetheless.  i miss the days of penny candy and roller blades, and when you'd tell me stories about life.  one of my greatest regrets is lying to you, laughing when you said you liked me.  because the truth is from the first day i saw you i loved you.  i don't miss pretending like i don't care and i hate that i'll probably never get to tell you how much i cared.

and why, jesus, am i thinking about you now?  is it because i have a job that's slowly killing me, making my brain dull and my thighs wide?  is it because i hate who i am, what i'm doing, and miss who i was and wanted to be?

all i can think is that i can't stand this much longer, this dead and dreary lack of emotion.  at least when i hated you, that was something.  now i can't even muster that much.  i can't love with fire anymore, can't ache or burn or pine or perish.  i can't feel.