Rendezvous
10 February 07 : 03.35 AM
Sometimes he says I'm restless, and that's when he's afraid. When I am furthest.
I'm thinking and I can't link everything up. At 18, I'm more alive than I've ever been, yet still scared. I wake up scared these days. When I wake up, and Danii's gone. But it's not him. Pilot down. I need something, I don't know what.
We watched Babel today, and I couldn't stop thinking about the perfect perfect perfect view you get from Chieko's apartment, high high up there in the middle of the city so it's light all through the night. I want that. I want the traffic, the smell of gasoline, I want lights, the voyeurism the cluttered the suffocation the coldness. I want that badly I could die.
Sisters of Mercy plays.
I want to bathe in wine. I want my tub brim-filled with wine and I will lick wine off my wrists and run my hands down between my legs. Danii will be with me. He will hold me up by my waist and lick wine from my abdomen. I will scope wine and let it go over my mouth, and that's the only time I will drink.
I've also been having these almost sick thoughts. Shhh. When I'm showering and my blood drips between my legs, I run my hand up my inner thigh and I want to taste it. I don't because I don't want to be weird. But don't everyone have something they want to do but don't because it's gonna be weird to others? I asked Danii if he'd lick it. If he'd lick them off my inner thighs, but I hated his answer. It was the most boring answer he has ever given me, and usually he gives me pretty ingenious and sexy answers. He says it depends on whatever reason for. Provocateur had her Italian lover suck her tampon dry and when I read that I couldn't get it out of my mind. A kind of feral madness. I'm going crazy.
We sleep many moons together, our limbs tangled in a mess, and when I'm half awake I lean over to kiss him, but I don't know if he does it to me too when I'm half-dreaming.
I'm thinking about how in the theatres tonight, I said to Danii, you fuck everything. And I say it bitterly like I'm virginal. I think he used to sleep with sluts, I think he has a slut-in-denial for a best friend, and to her I'm always thinking what Yvonne said to Serah, "if you don't wanna get fucked, don't spread your legs" in the most sarcastic and condescending manner, but that's irrelevant. Once we were kissing, sweet kisses turning a little heated when I thought about all that and I want to spit him from my mouth and scrub my tongue the way I did years before having that fucking cocksucker of a guy shove his tongue down my throat. But sometimes Tzack tells me that I'm like those girls too, implicitly, unintentionally. And again, I say this like I'm virginal.
Sometimes I think about cheating on Danii. To fuck some total stranger or an ex-boyfriend just for the hell of it. So things can't be this way anymore. It's a sick thought and I never seem to be able to register the consequences. Something I could never muster; can't have stupid strangers' fluid with mine. Fucking sick. Sometimes I'm a stranger to my thoughts as well.
He stopped telling me I'm beautiful. Except when I ask, but that's different and very stupid. Like my Daddy, who last said it two Novembers ago. It feels like Daddy loved me more two Novembers ago. (The last time, we were on the porch/nightfall and I was waiting for b. to pick me up. He looked at me lovingly, stroked my head and said, "so beautiful".) Why do I need confirmation like that from men who matter to me? When I don't hear it I feel hurt. Like it actually means something.
I have this cacophony shit of feelings in my head. What can I say? I'm a stranger to myself sometimes when I look into the mirror. Tonight I saw my running mascara and my sick self in the mirror and I want to break it. I kneel. Then it goes away.
I just want to go dancing.