23:34 - May 27, 2002
detachment
It's hard not to resent people for being so assured about something you feel positive they're wrong about, but telling them they're wrong about their own psyche would be rather pretentious, so you keep your mouth shut. And skirt around the issue. Though tonight I didn't really skirt, so kudos to me.. and I'm not being passive aggressive because all of this was already said. So ha.

Because I'm feeling nostalgic and uncreative, I give you poem from November 1999, with the headnote that I am so totally not a poet. For the sake of memory..

it's creeping up on me.
i thought the meds chased it away. i thought that's what the therapy was for, i thought that's why i meditate...
but it's all come back to haunt me.
a flash, i'm hyperventilating in english class while reading a shakespearean play. i'm trapped with this psychologist and have nothing to say. i'm trembling in the mornings 'cause i'm sure i've gone insane. i'm holding onto erik, and fighting off the pain...
it's not my fault, i never said
they had the right to fuck with my head
i didn't ask for things like this
i never ever had that kiss
that would make things go all right
on this endless lonely night.

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