kierabot

My Pumpkin's fur is covered in tears, and he doesn't mind.  well he may, but he's still on my knee and purring.  he's still headbutting my face, wiping the tears dripping from my nose.  he is definitely my better half.  but let's not feed his ego too much here.  he already knows he owns my devotion.

at the fan dinner in new york, jim pulled me aside and said i'd hate him for what he did to molly in ghost story.  i don't.  i admire him.  it's almost uncanny the way he twists and turns molly, and i feel every ounce of it.  i have pride for the girl. 

molly wore the scraps from the clothing harry wore at chichen itza. her rags are mementos, they're pieces of him in her own way.  i've mine.  the other half of something i made for someone.  i've worn it every day since. but he'll never know.  such are the sad processes of life.  

molly is wracked by the guilt.  whether or not it was her fault.  no matter the outcome of the day in and day out.  she will. always.  i know this.  .. i do.  

'i can't be home tonight, i'll make it back it's alright.  no one could ever love me half as good as you.  you can't be strong tonight. love makes you sad, it's alright.  no one could ever worry half as good as you.'

molly knew, she knew before, during and after.  and there was nothing she could do.  she knew this.  but still it ate her alive, devouring bits of her every minute, furthering her fester and decay from the inside out.  can she be saved? in the end? at the finale of the tale?  yes. i'm sure of this.  because if she can't... well that's moot my dears.

i don't think i'm molly, nor do i consider her a real person.  i'm not quite that far gone yet.  but i do feel her pain, and i do relate better than most.  this isn't specifically a good or bad thing.  it just is.  

i can't help you kid.  i can't change the world for you kid. i can't wait for you kid. i can't make decisions for you kid. i hope you realize what you want kid. i can't make you believe me kid.  i want the world for you kid. i'd give my life for you kid. i want to protect you kid. the world's a scary place kid. my best isn't good enough for you kid. i want the best for you kid. i pine for you kid. i want happiness for you kid.  i miss you kid. you'll be great kid. i want you kid. i'd do anything for you kid. i'm not good enough for you kid. i want you to want me kid.  i love you kid.






disclaimer for any sick fucks who may have stumbled upon my ranting:  kid is not in any reference to a minor, child, or anything illegal.  it's actually a completely replaceable term i've used instead of a name. it just sounded better in my head this way. 

why am i always #2? i can't be number one. never. no way. it isn't real. i'm only in first place because the original winner bowed out.  if that champion steps up to bat again, does that kick me to the second spot again? or am i doing well enough on my own?  'how can i decide what's right when you're cloudin up my mind.. i can't win your losin fight all the time'  i can't shut off the agonizing screams inside my head. telling me i'm wrong. telling me i'm right. telling me why i'm not worth it why i am. why i'm always alone. even when anyone's here.  the shrill shrieking of agonizing blasphemy terrorizing my sanity.  i want.  i need. i feel.  i hate.  i love.. love... ...  i hurt.. scars are deeper than even i can know.. only flashes.. i can't stop. oh gods let me rest. make it peace. take it far.  stop. Stop. STOP. it's like a terrifying hunger that needs sated. and my cognizance is its feed. there must be a way.. i'll find a way. i won't run. i gotta do it. i'm sorry. the fire must be fed. the need satisfied. it's inevitable.

cause i could really use a wish right now...

i'm me. just me.  i keep reiterating this.. but no one seems to listen.  they want me to be someone i can't be. they want me to be someone i'm not.  i can act the part.  i can play the role.. but i don't like to.  ''be peppy.. stand there and take it when she calls you fat... don't be so argumentative.. she can't stand you, but you have to kiss her ass... can't you just settle like everyone else?" would that i could.  i'd love to be an actress, then i could get paid for my skills.  hell i'd love to be doing anything that i can get paid that i enjoy.  i want to be a ninja.  a chef. a starring actress in a tv show.  hell a supporting actress in a movie.  learn a cool instrument and play in a band. there are so many things i want to do and be but none of them are achievable.  i've always been known for setting my sights and goals way above the possible and probable.  why stop now?  i wish i wish i wish i could one day get that wish.  that dream. that hope. that sign that life doesn't always suck. 

I walk, I talk, I shop, I sneeze. I'm gonna be a fireman when the floods roll back. There's trees in the desert since you moved out. And I don't sleep on a bed of bones. Now give me back my friends!

i'm nothing particularly extravagant.  i'm frustrated. i'm angry. always angry.  it's like the mines of centralia burning deep inside of me.  i can feel it.  i can taste it.  it's there, hating me. hating you. hating everything.  i can quench its thirst for a short while, but it's so bitter it's all consuming.  sigh.  it's almost funny.  an ongoing joke.  ''careful, she's scary'' or, well that's usually the way it goes.  i'm scary.  fun.  if everyone thinks i'm so scary, wouldn't they stop trying to piss me off?  no.  which is amusing.  i'm not really that scary.  at least not in the sense everyone thinks.  no one here has seen my temper. my rage. my fire.  i can reinvent myself a thousand times but it's still there.  burning deep.  i've tried it all.  meditation, chemicals, alcohol, it never works. never ceases the need.  not for lack of effort though.  i wish i was angry at someone specific so i could concentrate it and expunge it.  but i can't.  i think in all actuality it's myself i hate.  well more than i let on that i do.  i think there is a genuine deep hatred for myself.  not sure why.  i suppose because i'm nothing like i thought i should be.  and the one guy who wants me.  truely wants me for me.. well doesn't matter how much i think of him.  he lives 12 hours away anyway. and yeah maybe if he lived here things would be different.  but he doesn't.  and if i told him that he'd drop his life and move here tomorrow.  which i can't have.  it's not fair.  to either of us.  i remember how much justin resented me when he moved here.  i wish my brain wasn't so broken.  watching dollhouse i think constantly how much i'd love that.  to be able to change the thought process.  imprint me with a new, not so broken personality.  i'm okay with that.  mine kinda sucks.  i'm mean, brutal, and spiteful.  i sometimes think it'd be better for everyone if i just kept the faking up 24/7.  always okay always happy always the perfect person they all want me to be.  it's so tiring. so difficult.  i hate faking it.  for anything. for anyone. 

i don't in any way pretend to be normal.  heh. i'm not.  i'm kinda awesomely different.  i've got characters floating around inside my head wanting to come out.  i really wonder if it's just because i'm creative or downright crazy.  hmm.  i suppose anyone else who's ever had a character who wanted their story told would know the answer to that?  my latest is a scary, no nonsense, no bullshit, i will laugh when you die, cynical bitch.  hmm i'm probably going to pay for that somehow.  but she's kinda cool.  she has some of the same cynicisms i do.  and she rather scares the hell outta me.  but in a good way.  i think if i keep her around, she's got an amazing story.  i'm considering putting it up here.  but i haven't decided yet.  i just need a place to vent, not necessarily a place to put the inner-workings of my non traditional mind. 

love isn't really like the movies or a book.  i'd love for it to be.  but it really isn't.  there's no twilight.  no edward.  no angel to buffy.  it really doesn't exist.  not for lack of want. maybe someday..