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janaan-ya.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-07-31 05:54 pm
janaan-ya.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-07-31 05:54 pm
Wish to wish him well...
Not this time
Lij
frustrated, sad, at a loss.
A little language.
I choose a mortal life. Ha. if only. People think they know me because they can see through my eyes on a movie screen. They think that the way I play with the ring is the way I am in the face of any temptation. That the boys they see on the screen, aging movie by movie, limbs lengthening, beard growing, have become me, are who I am.
How the fuck do people stop acting and go to school? I've never been to school, wouldn't know how to behave. Couldn't sit still to save my life, never mind my brain. I hear that online is some story with all of us in a fraternity, I'm the geek (natch), and it's pledge time. That's great-as if anyone would have to talk me into foregoing anything.
Because what no-one realizes is I HAVE NO FUCKING SELF DISCIPLINE!!! I'm in this life now and there is no going back, no kindergarten, no college, no virginity, no privacy. Everything out in the open, spilling out of these fucking blue drain holes into other peoples' lives, and nothing left to me to quietly have of my own, on my own. Oh, yeah, I can snap out of a nap into a scene like no-one, fall and rise up like those elastic animals- the ones on a little stand, push the button and they collapse, let go and up they stand-but I can't go 10 minutes without a clove, an hour in my time off without a drink, a second without biting my nails. There is no balm in Gilead, no peace inside.
And I don't know what to do about it. Shave my head completely and get brown contacts, and move to the middle of Canada or something. And wear a brace or cast or something, so I don't walk or run or sit the way so many, many people recognize. Work in a rest home, or hardware store, and take meditation lessons. Or stay in LA, and party and drink and travel the world working and smoking and drinking and smiling and dying.
What if this time I don't open the bottle and light up first? I could call Sean first-he'd come get me, take me home, sit with me til the shakes are over, take me to safety. I could.
But not this time. Not this time.
Lij
frustrated, sad, at a loss.
A little language.
I choose a mortal life. Ha. if only. People think they know me because they can see through my eyes on a movie screen. They think that the way I play with the ring is the way I am in the face of any temptation. That the boys they see on the screen, aging movie by movie, limbs lengthening, beard growing, have become me, are who I am.
How the fuck do people stop acting and go to school? I've never been to school, wouldn't know how to behave. Couldn't sit still to save my life, never mind my brain. I hear that online is some story with all of us in a fraternity, I'm the geek (natch), and it's pledge time. That's great-as if anyone would have to talk me into foregoing anything.
Because what no-one realizes is I HAVE NO FUCKING SELF DISCIPLINE!!! I'm in this life now and there is no going back, no kindergarten, no college, no virginity, no privacy. Everything out in the open, spilling out of these fucking blue drain holes into other peoples' lives, and nothing left to me to quietly have of my own, on my own. Oh, yeah, I can snap out of a nap into a scene like no-one, fall and rise up like those elastic animals- the ones on a little stand, push the button and they collapse, let go and up they stand-but I can't go 10 minutes without a clove, an hour in my time off without a drink, a second without biting my nails. There is no balm in Gilead, no peace inside.
And I don't know what to do about it. Shave my head completely and get brown contacts, and move to the middle of Canada or something. And wear a brace or cast or something, so I don't walk or run or sit the way so many, many people recognize. Work in a rest home, or hardware store, and take meditation lessons. Or stay in LA, and party and drink and travel the world working and smoking and drinking and smiling and dying.
What if this time I don't open the bottle and light up first? I could call Sean first-he'd come get me, take me home, sit with me til the shakes are over, take me to safety. I could.
But not this time. Not this time.
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I must say, it came out of nowhere, knocked me upside the head, and when I came to, it was written and posted...Plot bunnies and little fics can be dangerous when they just want to get out!
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