Saturday, April 15, 2006
not yet not yet not yet not yet.
don't break my heart yet. he said. and she promised she wouldnt. but the truth was more that she would try not to, but probably would anyway. she saw her status plummet to the floor, saw it in the way his eyes dropped, the instant it happened. (read: didnt happen.) it hurt a little, and she wished she could cut out the tangles and leave just the part that was fit to wear out to dinner. but what if there wasnt enough left to cover her? worse, her time was running out, and she soon would have to stop praying for the words to come flowing out of her, in exchange for forcing them out. she would need to strike fear into the heart of each and every word, until they marched, palms open in defeat, methodically aligning themselves into some order that resembled enlightened thought. sleep...would have to wait.
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why do you ask so many questions? because im writing it for me and not for you. because her life feels like she lives it in the third person most of the time. because its rude to post people's names online. because its too close to home. because if she wanted you to know the details, you would. because this isnt a personal dialogue between you and i. because its fiction as much as it is fact. she is sick of playing games. if you want to talk to her, she'll talk.
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