Monday, November 22, 2010


They told me to draw a body of water.

I remember I wanted it to be big, like the ocean, but when I thought of the ocean I thought of a very commercial place with hotels, logos, trash, lack of wildlife, and too many people. And the sun, which I hated. The ocean wasn't right at all. I tried to picture the quarry at Nelson's Ledges. I loved Nelson's Ledges and I swam the quarry to the other side and back a few times every time I visited the park. It was beautiful but it was too easy. It wasn't right either.

I thought about the water that I wanted to draw. I wanted it to be huge. I saw it in my head. Huge. I think its next to a nuclear power plant. Maybe Perry's Nuclear Power Plant, maybe one thats not really around here. Probably one I've never seen before. I pictured myself standing on one side of it and staring, seeing the unknown spread out before me under a cloudy sky. I can't see the other side of it. I'm terrified but I roll of my shirt and I start wading in it. The water gets deeper and deeper. I can't stand anymore without my face going under so I push off hard and start swimming.

I keep going. In my fantasy, it just keeps getting deeper and deeper and I just keep getting less and less sure of myself. I feel fish beneath me. I feel life and maybe something mythical. Something weird. Fish brushing up against my legs. Hands from some underwater succubus trying to grab me and pull me down. I don't even look. I'm afraid of what I'll see. I keep swimming.

I'm in the runoff. I'm in the liquid cancer and the radiation. I am breathing it in and bathing in it. I think I feel the tumors growing on my body. Oh, what can I do about the tumors? They'll fall off on their own when I get out of the water. I'm not even worried about them. I have to keep going.

This is a headplace that I go back to. I picture myself in this place a lot but I never stop swimming or get to the end. I never even see the land mass on the other side of the water.
I remember the boy next to me was very cute and flirty. I remember his name was Jimmy. He had light blue eyes and a nice voice. I liked looking at him and he talked to me about albums. I didn't really know what I was talking about when I said I liked XY or Z but he believed my lies and I was happy just to be talking to him. I pretended that I liked Led Zeppelin.

I wasn't very good at drawing and just ended up with an inky ocean of blue so I just started scribbling and let my daydreams take over. Jimmy drew a puddle and when they asked him how he would cross it, he said that he would casually stick the tip of his foot in to create a ripple. Then he would step in it, stay there for a few seconds and walk away. While we were drawing, he was flirting with one of the other girls. Tickling her. I could be doing that, I thought. I stop swimming. Stop drawing. Am I missing out?

Hm. Maybe. I don't really think I am. I feel like this daydream is kind of too powerful to stop. I keep swimming. What am I swimming for? What am I trying to do? I have no idea. Whatever the goal is though, its probably the most important thing in my life. I think I have bitemarks from the bitter creatures that have snapped at me. I think my lungs are bleeding from what I've inhaled. But I realize that I don't care. Whatever this is is bigger then my hurt. Its worth the pain. While I'm working for this, I am durable. I don't care about anything else.

I remember how my jaw clenched when they told us that the body of water represented our desire for love. Mine was deep. Mine was huge. Mine was bigger then I could fathom and so beautiful and so pure........

I remember how it clenched even tighter when they told us that the way we cross the body of water was how hard we were willing to work for love and how wet we get is how willing we are to get hurt. I cry. Its the truth.

I long for people. I try to find somebody to long for before I go to sleep. Somebody to think about. I alternate between 2 or 3 people. I want them and I feel close to them but they never really lasts. If I develop something with some wonderful person, I appreciate them but get sick of them quckly and want to be less close. They ARE wonderful but really better as friends. The little things about them. The way they type "Ok" instead of "Okay" bothers me. I ask them to name 3 countries under dictatoral rule and they can't. And I bother them. They don't want my intensity. They arn't ready for it. They think that I cuss too much. And thats okay. I'm a nice person, even if I use the unfemine word fuck. I'll make a nice friend.

I want something better someday. You won't be religeous at all. You'll love some of the same music that I do. Hopefully your libido will match up with mine. I'll drink every fiber of your being in and none of it will bother me. You are smooth. You have no sharp edges. You have nothing for my inner monologue to snag on and be bothered by. I like every part of you and I love being around you. This feeling lasts.

You are crazy about me. You are my control. I don't care if you fuck other people. Its biological and maybe one day I'll slip up and fuck somebody else too. You won't care. You listen to me talk about the universe and how knowing that I'm small makes me feel safe. You like my tattoos. Sometimes you suck on them. I hope you have tattoos but if you don't, I don't care. I don't care if you hate aesthetics as long as you love me back. I will be your tattoo. I will be the image that follows you around. I will be the thing you commit to. Something you never get sick of.

I change for the better around you. I organize things more. Smile even more. Appreciate my place in the world more. I am more creative, more ambitious. I wake you up with oral sex. I clean. I cook. Maybe I take a second job. Maybe I jog the extra mile. Just you existing makes me happy and you existing and loving me back makes me want to be a light. I want to create the perfect world for you and make everything as amazing as I possibly can.