High and Dry

Missing my friend and assessing my life now at home with washed hair, good skin and solemn attitude.

Is there someday that you decide, this is what I want and I'm going for it? I want to know, looking at Sean and even Steve, how they escaped this, being so constrewed as I am, wanting more. I want it so badly. I want to be away, far away from all of this.

But at the cost of losing who took care of me? You know I've dated alot of men, no one ever took care of me like that.

I can't use being afraid as an excuse forever.

Crimson and everyone else says I'm right. I did the right thing. Since when did I care so much?

This si something I want. The best kind of want. The want you didn't realize you needed until you had it.

And let it go.

I called about four hundred times, no answer, no answer. I don't care anymore. What can I do? I know I'm capable of stronger emotions, more sharp senses of feelings. I created this and I let it go.

I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse. You picture yourself at last being let free of this evervescent lonliness, then to realise, you were alone all along.

Running Away

My philosophy on life was never stop going. Keep going on. I learned to soldier on through most horrible of situations, I made it alone.

But when, when, when is it time to stop?

Early Morning Contemplation

Recovering from the most I've ever drank in my life last night, or at least the worst it ever hit me. Vodka goes down quicker. Cheap liquor settles. And then makes a second appearence, all over your best friend's bathroom floor although you aimed to throw it up in the bowl. The damn thing kept moving...

But screw that. I need to assess my life. I'm five pounds heavier. I'm with a man I don't really like. But you know, I don't know what it is about Chris. Say what you will about him, yes, I've said it over and over, he is skeevy and has dubious taste in his friends, who, although I don't even respect as human beings, I do find myself fantasizing about and have even told poor Chrissy about this... hmm... I just can't seem to leave. Is it the fear of being alone or simple attraction? I'm not attracted, I knwo that, none of the fireworks ignited by his loser friend for example go off for Chrissy. It's more the underlying feeling of security maybe. Chrissy understands me, well my negative attributes, at least, and being me I dwell on these myself and thus am attracted to him. Right? Or is it the feeling of being taken care of... the constant secuirty and safeguard that you know at the end of the night, he'll be around to call. Or have I created that image myself and therefor believe my own fairytales? He's certainly not dependable. Nor compassionate; towards me anyway. I think I scare him, really, which indeed makes him the perfect boyfriend. But at the end of all this misgiving, you wonder, what everyone always asks in the end, What is it you want, Casey?

What indeed.

I don't know. When I find it, I'll know it. Right?

Talking to Nicole last night and have come to the conclusion that I do miss Kenny very much. But that phase of my life is over, I've been cursed from day one, starting relationships and even the whole discovery of it all so badly broken, no wonder I'm messed up. I wish I could talk to him, you know... One conversation, maybe, just a few questions... You know, after someone dies, they keep changing, stories told and images laid all over until it wasn't even like what the person was like in real life at all. I might not remember this right, he's been dead 7 years this last past week. I might not remember him right, he scared me sometimes, I was a little girl, after all. I would love to know, what he thought of me, again... I know, I've got the letters, I want to hear it again again, and again. I want to know everything is going to be ok, I need that.

But my Irish grandmother always said, if wishes were horses beggars would ride. Which doesn't make any sense even now, but it's one of those explainations that serves to close the deal. Like better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. I don't think anyone really believes that.

How is it to be drunk the morning after, or at least tasting the drink you had last night at the back of the throat? I miss that feeling, of being swallowed in attraction; infatuated beyond reason, closest thing to insanity. It's been so long, you know.

Now I'm being sappy.

Loving my body as of late, its gotten alot of attention lately. My small waist, my wide hips, my butt... I need to tone up, though I'm all gross and loose. Going running with Bonnie later.

Properly Yoko

Ok. So after months of fighting it, the inevitable has happened and the real life Carrie Bradshaw has committed. To, yes, believe it or not, Skeevatz Chris, who has become my Skeeve.

Proper girlfriend and all, with my high-necked blouses and dignified gait. I'm smiling like a Crest kid at his scrappy little friends and even considered an attempt at baking. I'm attending poker nights and local band shows that I haven't been to in seven years, at least. His name has found its way into my regular conversations. I wore sweatpants and that England soccer jacket out in the street with unwashed tied back hair and even managed to gain a pound this weekend. His friends have, overnight, become people I'm obligated to be nice to. NICE. I'm experiencing the odd feeling of having to be nice. Half feeling like rainbows and sunshine like the bride on the cake in all her plastic glory... the other half feeling like Cournty Love at an NA meeting.

And here I sit, after poker night with the boys. Oh, steak, chicks, cars, and motorbikes! We discussed it all with crude humor about bodily functions interjected at will! Here, here, let's scratch our crotches and throw back a cold one!

(Beer, correct?)

Right. This man is working up quite a debt. I forsee a long and profitable future of Bergdorf, Saks, Bendels and even Victorias in store for our little darling!!!

Or at least a chance to throw my legs around his neck... no threat of reciprocation, please.

"Well, it's perfectly clear,
Between the TV and beer,
I won't get so much as a kiss,

As I head for the door,
I turn around to be sure...

Did I shave my legs for this?"

-Deanna Carter

Hung Up

Damn this doctor!!!

Hung up and waiting, always waiting. Phone ain't ringing and it's him not calling. Skeevy Chris called will ggo out with him later if in a good mood. Cannot believe the truth?

Oh, Boy...

Why is it the ones you can't forget are the ones you fight the most for?

Beached Out

Blonde and paler than ever.

I Don't Want to Think About It...

Ok, yes, it's August 7th. Now we've said it, it's over.

OK. Well, tomorrow I'm headed to the beach with crazy Bronx people.

The doctor still hasn't called me. I'm holding out as long as I have to. I've given into stalking; but not doing it very well as I told him I stalked him as I was drunk. This is pathetic. Everytime that phone rings, there I am waiting to see his number. He's got me open like 7-11, excuse the nineties slang.

So sad and wierd and PMSing this evening, freaking out about nonsense. Will go to bed and make sense of it all tomorrow.

AS I STRUT THE BEACH IN A BIKINI!!!

(Hello, sweet chunky arse...)

I Don't Want to Think About It...

Ok, yes, it's August 7th. Now we've said it, it's over.

OK. Well, tomorrow I'm headed to the beach with crazy Bronx people.

The doctor still hasn't called me. I'm holding out as long as I have to. I've given into stalking; but not doing it very well as I told him I stalked him as I was drunk. This is pathetic. Everytime that phone rings, there I am waiting to see his number. He's got me open like 7-11, excuse the nineties slang.

So sad and wierd and PMSing this evening, freaking out about nonsense. Will go to bed and make sense of it all tomorrow.

AS I STRUT THE BEACH IN A BIKINI!!!

(Hello, sweet chunky arse...)