*french haitian rainbow killing. 2002-01-26 2:26 a.m.*

it hurts to read sometimes. in this way where my eyes actually get a little teary. and on so many levels. i feel like i put myself out there as this girl who while she's pretty fucked up in a lot of ways, at least has a finger on her emotional pulse at all time. i mean, i've been told that the world would be a better place if people could just emote as well as me. and that wasn't the sentence i was going to say at all. i feel like in this one group of friends, i'm suddenly the girl who knows the shit about relationships. which is funny in some ways, because in other groups of friends, i'm the girl who's had so few relationships and looks kind of wide-eyed and innocently at everyone else. but i had the wonderful fortune to be in one of the most open relationships i've known of. (open in terms of honesty and all that goodness, not like sexually open, but yeah...) and yet all this stuff still rings true with me. not in the relationship with this self-same boy that's driving my dear friend crazy, and who makes me want to sit them both down and go, "okay, this is how she feels. be flattered. don't fuck up. she's too important for you to bloody fuck up." but in the wonderfully open and honest relationship that was, i still believe, the best way to do it. but i still think i felt so many of these same ways. and maybe for me it was my own self getting in the way of stuff that was true and good and there, and i mean, there was a physical element as well, and i loved that relationship with my whole heart, and i'm still all glad and shit that it existed, but this soul tiredness that she describes is how i found myself on so many nights. those nights where i'd steal away to her room before going home to regroup, to reconvince myself that i had not emptied myself out for nothing, that in the end there would be some return. that in time it would all go back to beauty and i would feel important again. and so this whole thing saddens me on so many levels. i hate that my friend is sad, that's first and foremost. and i hate that she feels so unfulfilled and that she doesn't have even the reassurance of effort that i had. because i think that's what saves me from bitterness in the end-- that there was this attempt and this love and all this trying on both sides, but in the end we really weren't getting what we needed. what saddens me is that i didn't get what i needed, but what makes it okay is that there was an effort, but what makes me so sad here is that it's so baffling whether this boy is even trying. i want him to try. i want him to get down on his damn knees and worship her. i want him to see all her preciousness and wonderfulness and bask in her glow. and i know that with me, there was this recognition, but just this so much tiredness. with him, it's so hard to say. and i think he's a good boy, but in the end i wonder if it's just that he's a boy, but is that sexist? and then i'm also, of course, a little sad for me. i always say that this girl and i could be the same person if we'd had the same experiences, and so her descriptions of her pains are so frequently the descriptions of old pains of mine. and so i want to hug her and say "i understand," but really... what right do i have? i started out with the perfect relationship. i had it so damn lucky. what right do i have to tell this girl that i know where she's coming from? and besides that... her relationship still feels like it's at that new budding full of promise stage. like if there were something to crack the shell it would suddenly be beautiful. but i'm afraid that the boy might not like the shell broken. but i don't understand how it could continue if it doesn't happen...

i feel like, in the end i'm talking around in circles. it's all so much, and i'm reading too much of the zine-ness to be able to come to any sort of definite conclusions about anything. except perhaps that hearts are just horribly confusing.

*listening to: *
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