Written on January 25, 2009 by cody and kat.
don’t fuckin fuck with me don’t fuckin make fun of me youlll be the sorry ones i fuckin guarantee it
They laid in bed, with their thoughts tumbling around each other in the usual jerky, repetitive fashion. A name came in – it was from a show – and suddenly, like a flash, Cody had them up against the wall, his blade at their jugular. No one saw him come in. A few saw him streak across the room, greasy black-brown hair and pale skin, boring eyes, all intent. They weren’t even sure if he spoke, or who was against the wall. The menace was palpable, of course, but the message wasn’t. Speaking his name summoned him like this, but his anger lacked follow-through, or purpose, or something.
don’t fuckin mess with me you fuckin got it don’t you FUCKIn laugh at me ill fuckin kill you
little girl, little girl, you been a bad girl you know it. you bad-mouthing father? and think you can get away with it? you think he don’t got eyes?? ill cut your little labia off whos the knif-fucker now? you just better fuckin step careful little girl im fuckin watchin you
you want to fan my fuckin flames you go ahead and laugh all you want. just don’t fuckin go cryin off to someone cos i hurt you. i give you fair fuckin warning
His knife seemed ubiquitous, like they’d always seen its shadow, even if just periphery. Like he could rend mirror with it. Like they’d known it in a dream. Like they were waiting for it.
can saying his name, not aloud, really give him power? over us? i thought the power of names worked the other way. i thought having a name gave us power over them. but it seems to be the opposite.
It is a strange position to be in. To have been in. To encourage divergence from our own self. To be responsible for keeping us – everything we are not. To find the will to want, to be strict, to keep us dolled up when that is not us. Strange, but not as strange as you might think. We never thought of life as ours – only in our charge.
Continue reading ‘the earth is full of earthquakes’
It is a strange position to be in. To have been in. To encourage divergence from our own self. To be responsible for keeping us – everything we are not. To find the will to want, to be strict, to keep us dolled up when that is not us. Strange, but not as strange as you might think. We never thought of life as ours – only in our charge.
Continue reading ‘the earth is full of earthquakes’
still, shivering, cautious. what is it that i want to say, or do? how will i dig us out of the quicksand? i don’t know what i want to say, but i think i want to write. i want us to write. i want to be ok – i want to breathe, and come through stronger, and be in charge of myself. i don’t want to be depressed. (well, duh, you bitch.)
project sunny kitchen – berry-bedecked woods – strength and light and being multiple again – scooting – i know what i want to find. i want to be strong enough.
Continue reading ‘salt air and yellow streetlights’
so, how are we doing? is there anyone that would like to come out today? anyone who has anything they want to do in therapy?
i don’t know… should we bring our laptop? we should prepare.
she said she would play boggle… we could bring it…
oh, please. you want to hire someone to play boggle with you for sixty bucks an hour? that’s pathetic.
Continue reading ‘speaking of fueled’
oh, tired, tired, tired. it’s stubbornness that brings me back to wring words from a stone. but it’s only two days now to the new test and i don’t know if i can stand it. to be done with this shame! or to double it. the anticipation is better and worse. the depression pads me from some of the worst of it.
i am trying not to live in the future. each day, i can only take it as it comes, even horrible days. there is nothing i can do by living it over again, and over and over and over and over. it’s easier to forget when i don’t write or talk to people. i think that was part of why we isolated so much. just needed to deny reality for a while. Continue reading ‘futility’
supposedly we need the full system’s cooperation or at least, the full system’s awareness of the proceedings. we need to be able to increase or decrease the rate at which junk flows through our head. brakes, accelerator, faucet, videotape, whatever. i know that the two powerful groups inside don’t necessarily agree. that miss shirley would never expose us to a memory, whereas the ones of power might, if they felt we needed an appropriate punishment. her camp is fueled mainly by loyalty to the mother, the day mother, and what she might want; the ones of power are fueled mainly by loyalty to the ones in charge of everything. so, naturally, they have more power in the system.
Continue reading ‘just before the deal got real sweet’
