you_are_a_stone_on_my_chest unhinged you took the other highway, (don't ask me which one; the highways around here are fucked) to take them home; it was always the convienent excuse when she happened to be with us. cause we only lived five minutes from each other. me and her were in the back seat and she looked at me and i laid my head on her shoulder. 'you need to go home nicole. call me when you get home.' i looked at her and nodded, biting my lip. she knew i wasn't going to go home if she got out of the car before me. 'dude where are you going? you have to take nicole home.' you mumbled, feigning_innocence , like you had always fully intended to take me directly home anyways. you had assumed because after two muscle relaxers and three long islands in the space of two hours i had made a bad choice, that i had forgiven you. that i wasn't 'mad at you' anymore and that it could just be the way it was where you got to scab, bruise, and grab me without ever talking to me. yeah, i know where you are coming from. i don't have a right to be mad at you. we had an arrangement. the arrangement isn't why i'm mad. but i guess we didn't settle too clearly on the terms. my terms are that if i would rather be with someone else, i won't be with you. so i guess i just want that same respect, i know, i know, that's my biggest mistake. thinking you could ever respect me when all you ever do is degrade me. i mean for christ's sake you won't even call me to find out what i'm doing, and the handful of times you had to call, you sounded nervous. not how you had sounded through her phone. you sounded like you didn't want me to get the wrong idea, the idea that you possibly liked me. yeah, we were fuck buddies; that was the arrangement. no liking involved. but don't think that after i watch you buy another girl drinks all night, that when she leaves, like she always does, that i could possibly be fucking happy to be the second choice. yeah, maybe she was skinnier than me, prettier, more the kind of girl you would brag to your friends about; which only makes my inferiority, your settling, even more apparent. well, you don't get to settle for me anymore. take me home. 050307 ... unhinged oh and i have to admit that last night was such a perfect touch; you scored the match winning point. you win. i'm done. i won't go there anymore. i won't bother you. i can't watch you from across a crowded room anymore, gaining more realization every week just how little i meant to you. of course i knew it from the start, but that nasty word hope came around and convinced me maybe you could like me. even though the realist devil looked at the hope devil and said 'yeah right; you know you're just a fuckhole to him.' yes, i was just a fuckhole to you. a subpar, unadmittable fuckhole. and you think after all the other people before you, i would have learned how to say no. i don't need you to affirm my inferiority anymore. yep, after last night it is more than abundantly clear. find yourself a sane pretty little girl to parade off to your friends. no offense, but i think i'll stay home from now on. 050311 ... unhinged the kind and size that makes it hard to breathe doubled over in pain crushing the last bits of life out of me flattened it surely is a slow way to die 050311 ... megan right now i just wish i could see what's going through that head i guess i'm probably being annoying, calling and everything but i just want you to tell me do you not want to see me today? that's fine with me, but just tell me do you not want to see me for awhile? that's fine, but tell me why. if you don't want to talk, just tell me you need off the phone. just don't be silent like that please don't yes everyone needs to be silent sometimes, but tell me it's one of those times 050312 ... unhinged i didn't have to lock myself in my bathroom this thursday night i didn't go out i didn't see you i stayed in and smoked some hash my sad_little_breathing_machines with no stone on my chest i feel somewhat better maybe still alone and useless but better 050319 ... mon uow "the ancient gaelic poets lay with stones on their chests pressed stale air out fresh breath poetry springing from lungs that were pure you in the back seat leaning forward asking where i'm going i've no good answers the stone on my chest won't let me breathe" - bpNichol, the martyrology book 3 050321 ... unhinged i did stop going there because of you. i thought that after a month away from you, i would be able to see you there again without flipping out. at one point i tried to go back and just the sight of you, i could feel you trying to put your weight back on me. i have since realized the uselessness of letting people like you effect me like that. the problem is that i occasionally forget the uselessness of the situation and come to believe that i actually deserve to be treated that way. i have since realized the only way your weight can crush me is if i lay down and let you crush me. 050518 what's it to you? who go blather from