All I've ever been is kind

I know you think you’re better than me. And maybe you are. You’re older afterall. You’ve got money. The kind of money that conceals your fat... At least you think it does.

Immediately, my go-to is to insult you're shape. That's so incredibly petty and horrible of me; and I know it. It's so easy and tasteless.

I don't mean it. I don't. And it's because I look up to you.

There is a pain that sometimes fills my chest. It makes my eyes water red tears. The kind that happen in public - that I desperately try to conceal. It makes me sniffle, and cuts my height down about 3 feet - until I feel real small.

Do you want me to feel small?

It’s that kind of pain that’s quick to come, difficult to control. It could happen anywhere, anytime - but most often after someone looks at me the wrong way - says something that makes me feel like I’m stupid, naive... unworthy. The kind of look that says, “Who the fuck are you?”

You don’t even know me...

It strikes when I have no one to turn to, no one to call. I hide in a bathroom stall and wait for the tears to dry. The tears to stop. The tears to go away.

Go away tears. Please just stop and go away. I’m happy. I love this. Don’t let her make you feel this way! Do not let something so small... so silly interrupt this... beauty.

A vine dips into a pond and it ripples. Suddenly the water that once looked smooth, like silk, is distorted. The reflection no longer clean... Now a swirling, rippling - angry - reservoir.

And all I hear is...

Who the fuck are you?

You are... the monster in the closet.

Bring it home

You can't write what you don't know. I don't know anything about being a man or growing up in rural southern Ontario.

Orange lights
Smell of summer
Something scary but lonely
Sneaking a bike across backyards that have no fences to divide them
New neighbourhoods, no big trees
Construction sites
Video stores
Nights in the suburbs
A suburb at night is nothing but empty, lonely space

You're not trusting yourself. Trust yourself. You're doing just fine. There is no time limit. There is nothing telling you to do anything differently from what you are doing right now.

- I


You are...the sound of sneakers on wet gravel after a thunderstorm

There's a seizure taking hold of me

People do the most outrageously stupid things in the quietest way. I'm in that mood where everyone feels invasive. Why are you standing there? What are you doing? GO AWAY.

I hate hating my body. I need something to take me out of scrutinizing it constantly. That job used to be filled by anxiety, but seeing as that led to no good things, I guess I'll need to distract myself by being happy.

People don't connect anymore. I don't know. There are so many assholes in the world. I feel like everyone I know save for a handful is an asshole. Politics ruin people. I'd say we should act like children but some children are assholes too. How do you not become an asshole? I think it's the genuine desire to have fun and to include other people in on that fun. Why can't we all have more fun?

Thoughts running through me: he's picking up stones in his garden and staring at the woods wondering who is throwing them. Scrambled eggs. No more caffeine, though I love the smell of it, it makes me think of a hospital. I kind of like hospitals, they make me think of guilt-free sleep and the playroom down the hall and righteous pre-plated hospital food. I'm fascinated by the arrangement of hospital food, I could stare at a variety of hospital platings all day. I'm not into music right now, it leaves me empty. He pulls a baby from the tree. I want a late-night TV show on some local TV station where it's just me in some ratty old basement talking about why the government is out to get us. Tongue can be so many things. Fuck, what an annoying bitch. I could kill a bacon sandwich right about now.

Yours,

I


If I could do anything, I would...launch lit fireworks at her face.

like children

Hi con

Ba just concern about the side effect of your medecin .Would it make you gain weight recently ? Can you check with the schytherapy..or doctor Pugen .I want to help you to find out the better way to keep fit faster .We may need the specialist .Don't you think so ?Please remember Dad love you and want you feel better even if dad have to spend more money


I used to have these thoughts right before I fell asleep. I'd imagine my brother and my parents starving in the streets, fighting to eat, their pettiness dulled to something pitiful. In those thoughts, I'd see myself as their saviour and I'd see them as children naively holding their meagre belongings up to me in offering in exchange for a piece of bread or a morself of comfort. These thoughts used to upset me. They still do.

It isn't that I think I'm better than them. It's that there is so much they don't understand and I see them floundering and trying again and again to offer what they know which is really so little. I see them looking at what they hold in their hands and I see them throwing gifts at my feet, hoping that things will turn out perfectly and when it doesn't they look so confused. 'Why isn't this enough?' they ask. 'We're giving you everything we have.'

I feel like a bad person. I feel like a bad daughter. They're like children. They want to help so much, but they don't know how to. I feel like a bad person.

- I

If I could be anything to you, I would be...a baby.

Your face is an American Apparel ad (hurl)

It doesn’t matter how hard your body is, how leggy you are, how epic your tits or crisp your tan - if you have an ugly personality, a nose stuck in the air, eyes that roll like a tick, ...or even if you second guess yourself every two-friggin minutes, and yet manage to be unaware of how self-involved you are - then, well, it makes your face ugly...fugly... and that my friend is awfully unfortunate.

This was a negative post. I apologize. My next post will be more my style - more optimistic - less cynical.

xoLo

I’m a face person. Definitely a face person. 

It's the same, old song

I recently entered a contest to win a signed copy of the new novel of one of my favourite up and coming authors for the tweenage crowd. 

The contest was to describe one of your "screw-ups."

I don't have "regrets" per se... but I've definitely screwed up... It's something i did ALOT as a child, in comparison to the now. I guess you could say it's an inevitable learning experience  - the cause of some very significant growing pains. 

Anyways, here is the one screw-up that always seems to scream... (and thus my contest entry)...

A winter evening - blackish skies by six o'clock. Frost over the windows. My lips chapped and dry - my body carrying that extra winter weight. Soft, but kind of awkward.

I had been home from first year University for Christmas holidays and I was just stoked to see my best friends from high school, and a boy I was still crushing on since prom. Friends and fun were pretty much the only things on my mind... that I allowed to be on my mind anyway.

It was around 10 pm when my friend Sarah and I were packing up our skates and sticks to meet the boys at the pond to play a little midnight pond hockey - dressed all puck-bunny and ready to get my flirt on. My mom (who had cancer for the second time)   thought I was nuts going out so late in the cold night to skate around on dangerous thin ice - wet and melting. To her, I thought, she was just for-seeing my runny nose, and my constant complaining about a head-cold, and sore feet

My mom yelled at me to stay home - she wanted to talk. I yelled back. I wasn't going to let her get in the way of any potential I had with seeing Riley again. I was determined to have an amazing Christmas - a holiday to remember.

So I cut her off, and stormed out the door with my skates slung over my shoulder and my coat barely done up.

I arrived home at around 2 to a quiet, dark house. I creeped down the hall toward my bedroom, trying not to cause a stir and wake my parents. Inside my bedroom I found my mother curled up in my bed - she had been complaining earlier that her own bed smelled of my father's cigarette smoke - the stench of Players Light embedded in the sheets which irritated her - choked her. I tried my best not to make a sound as I changed out of my clothes and into my pjs, when I noticed the tear on her cheek. Silent tears in the dark blue glow from the moon, seeping into my room from a crack in the curtain. 

My mother had been crying. I didn't know what to say. I slipped into the bed beside her and put my arm around her. I was hugging a crevice moon. She felt smaller, bonier than I had remembered. Her skin was cold but sweaty - clammy, really. We were silent for a long while and finally she whispered to me, "My baby. I miss my baby." And that's when this feeling overwhelmed me... I wanted that moment to last forever. I didn't want to ever move from that position. I wanted to hold onto her before she was taken away from me. I felt her heartbeat against my hand. I held her. I breathed her. I just knew this moment would end. End. End. End. Fuck the end. 

The next afternoon I found her sitting at her closet. She pulled out an ice-blue dress and blazer she'd worn to my cousin's wedding in the summer. She told me this was the dress she wanted to wear at her funeral. And that was the moment she revealed her days were numbered. She just stopped responding to treatments. She wanted to tell me last night. She wanted to tell me when I was out playing hockey - playing hockey badly and flirting with boys who could give a fuck about my mind - my problems.

She wanted to tell me everything and that she had known since early November but didn't want to tell me then because she didn't want to trouble me while I was away at school. She didn't want me to go to the pond that night because she knew her days were numbered - and here I was spending every holiday night with friends... "friends..."

This is my screw-up. Yeah, I wish I'd been more perceptive, because after that night... it was just a downward spiral toward the end.

lo

Paid, in sweat

Consider which persona you'd select to perform in a given sexual role-play situation, and why.

If gender specific, consider which persona you'd desire for your lover. 

1. Mime or Sailor?

2. Pirate or Soldier?

3. Cop or Bandit?

4. Candy striper or Nun?

5. Catholic school girl or Biker?

6. Dominatrix or Goldie Locks?

7. Lumberjack or Neo?

8. Scientist or Latin lover?

9. Trucker or waitress?

10. Wrestler or cow-girl?

xo

Lo.

If I were time - i'd be travel.

The biggest breakthrough would be realizing Carrie should pick Aiden

I, Desiree Thrash, hereby solemnly swear not to engage in what could be interpreted as ‘crazy ex-girlfriend behaviour’. I will not behave foolishly or destructively, no matter how I might rationalize it. Therefore I vow the following:

• I will not call him. No matter what news I think he needs to hear from only me, I will not call him. Even if I am completely convinced calling will make me feel better, I will not call him. I will not call him crying, that will only push him further away. No girl in the history of the world has ever felt better after calling an ex-love at 3am, and I am unlikely to be the first. Even if I have a serious work-related issue to sort out, I will not call him. I will not call him about anything.
  
• I will not text or email him. I will not email him about work related matters or problems. I will not contact him at all.
  
• I will not answer his phone calls. “Just checking to see how I am” is checking to see if whether or not I think he is a jackass. He is looking for an ego stroke, not looking to get together.
  
• I will not look for signs that we will get together. This includes asking a Buddha-shaped Magic 8 Ball, and 680 News horoscopes. The only guidance I will seek is that of a registered therapist.

I promise to abide by these rules for 30 days, or until I have gotten over him, whichever is longer.

This I affirm. So help me.

Signed,
Desiree Thrash

If I was a state of matter... I would be a liquid.

Workin' on my night moves

Just as I feel myself again getting sucked into a cyclone of self-deprecation, a baron island of seclusion, some nowhere land telling me, convincing me I have an anti-social problem because I often don't feel like going out, talking to boys, or dating those persistent suitors - the vacuuming winds desist.

Sometimes I worry that I have an issue. The kind of issue other people may seek a therapist for to uncover a way of rising above and beyond whatever inflames this issue - whether it is an anxiety that routes back years (maybe even to childhood), an insecurity I'm unwilling to admit, or simple...blissful (cough pretentious cough) apathy. Ok, I may have an anxiety - but by no means am I apathetic. I am no longer in that impassive melancholic phase I was some while ago. I've been fruitful, and still I am thirsty for more treasures, whether they're self-made, serendipitously wrought, or mined from the natural cornucopia that is planet Earth . Or the universe in its entirety for that matter.


I was reminded once again last night that I am a social, flirtatious, energetic dynamo WANTING, lusting, and hungry for some good clean sensuality - for connection with other human beings. And it's my sister who once again opened my eyes.

My sister is a person in my life who makes me want to count down the hours of my work to see her, to go out and hang out with her at the end of the day. She is a woman I think about all the time - wondering what she's up to - how she's doing. Once I find a guy like this, she reminds me, I will want to be that dynamo all the time. And let me tell you. There are currently two dudes on the roster. I don't really know them - but the last time I genuinely got jazzed, got hot, got excited about someone romantically (and it really has been years) when I started to like them i hardly knew them. It was pure crazy magnetism - pure infatuation - which i'd argue leads to true love.

True love and true desire doesn't make a lot of sense this way - but it kind of does. I believe actual chemistry can't be forced - it's biological - innate - INSIDE. We send messages with our mind - with our aroma. We are animal that way. Always animal. Animal is truth.

I met these guys and I just knew that I'd dig them without learning about them - learning to like them. Learning is for intelligence. Feeling is for connection, for friendship. For kinship. For sex. Perhaps I'm simply a romantic this way. Even if you end up falling in love with a person you hated, for example, I believe that deep down inside - some part of you - some molecule secretly knew, and the stars were playing epic entangling games to get you together. To get you to talk, touch etc. etc.

And perhaps that's why I'm currently crushing on these dudes... neither gave me that much attention - neither really showed any major interest - neither checked me out or are really that attainable - seeing as they live 4 hours away - one of them very Kevin Arnold-esque, the other kind of an asshole to be completely frank. But, who the fuck is Frank, anyways. I dig assholes. Not literally - figuratively. Well... actually who knows. I shouldn't speak too soon.

So until I see them again - which could be months - they will continue to cross my mind. I will get excited to hear about them - or think about them or wonder about who they are - really ARE.

Until then I will continue to remind myself that I am one Betty that ain't got no sexual issues - cuz I'm human - and technically having "issues" is human. It's all just useless syntactical frustration. Which is kind of hot.

I dig bloodshot eyes and a mind that sees everything backwards and forwards and inwards. I dig catching fruit with an open mouth like a plastic ball and plastic scoop. I dig quiet guys who suddenly bust out some Seger with such little efforts it drives you mad. I just dig last night in general.

AHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHH

at the end of it all, i thank roxy for reminding me that there is a woman outside of this mind of mine.

knock knock.
who's there.
el oh el eh.
xo