the danish outpost
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feeling kinda how a girl feels

hurt and bruised, shaking, fighting the urge to cry... i sit in the dark at my desk, not wanting to go home, not wanting to face any person, not wanting to be alone. outside, it's cold and snowy. suitable for the siberian tundra in my heart right now.

i am losing everything, it seems. my mother is slipping away from me, from herself. my siblings, thru no fault of their own, are not close enough for me to feel any warmth. and i am watching the most important relationship i have slowly crumble.

i feel like holing up in my apartment, ignoring the phone, and sleeping for days. the last of the Christmas obligations seem rather trivial right now. cookies or no, everyone will have some sort of holiday. it doesn't really matter what i do.

i picture myself screening phone calls, avoiding the sharp edge of disappointment, not wanting it to slice any deeper. i imagine answering the phone sullenly, abruptly dismissing those i do not wish to talk to. i pretend that i can be strong enough to get thru this without being hurt more. i try not to cry.

maybe i'm being too fatalistic, or perhaps i am creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. if she wins, it will only be because i let her. i think, for a brief instant, that perhaps this will take a turn for the better. this is not about winning or losing. maybe i will not destroy it again.

and then i think, the times you expect the best are the times you suffer the most. plan for the worst, hope for neutrality. i desparately want this to work, and yet... and yet, part of me has already accepted that it might not.

i do not know how to go thru this again, to pick up the broken pieces and reassemble my sense of self.

yesterday :: tomorrow

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*tap tap* hellooo?
i think i've been tricked
steely grey days
warm food for cold weather
the appeal of the broken boy

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