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Friday, October 23rd, 2009
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Of course shoot him dead, yes in the temples of the head. Because it's that bears fault, that bear was wearing ice skates and when you put ice skates on a bear they are expected to behave like a regular, well-tempered member of society and he should have known better. So yes shoot him because he was supposed to be acting like a human, and he was acting like a bear.
The nerve of that bear. A real jerk he was.
Here we give him a cage, and a life, and a pair of ice skates and even a tricycle and some outfits,
and what does he do?
He detests our attempts at making him a star and he tries to eat the man responsible for his success.
For what?
hm bear? for what?
oh yes.
To die.
To die as a bear, acting as a human, acting as a bear.
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Monday, September 21st, 2009
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So I talk funny.
You take things
wayyyyyyyyyyyy
too seriously
I think i'm a hard person to "read".
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Thursday, September 10th, 2009
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You swore to and at me that you'd never be a part of that "fucked up domestication"
And you begged me not to be a part of it either because "we lose ourselves when we bury it in someone else."
I burned my bridge and I know it, and i'm sorry, and i'm so sorry. And the things these people will never read and never know.
You speak in nothing but 'us' and 'we', and occasionally 'she', but never are you he no you aren't he.
I burned my bridge and i know it, but you burned yours too, through and through, and we rebuilt and we rebuilt it again and again.
why can't that happen again?
You are part of a collective that dislikes me for who I am and what I was to you. You must still love who we were to each other. A Monster and a Witch.
I can't believe however, that you can't remember everything else. Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe it is easier to remember the times I was horrible. It is hard to exile someone if you remember the good times, I know.
Everything is a peace offering and all i want to tell you is that i miss you.
You won't hear it, I won't say it, and even if you did hear it because i did say it you wouldn't believe it, i know it.
I just want to be friends.
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Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009
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I have always had the same blank stare and blond hair paired with a slight smile since I was a child and my mother likes to remind me of when I was three and my bother was moving my limbs around, mobilizing me, like a doll and she says that i said with my straight face, "Nandrew, I am not a play-thing." and i'm still not.
Such seriousness in a child of three and i never grew out of it just further into it. Maturing in dog years or something like that. (I must be around one hundred and fifty four.) The look never left my face no it only got deeper, and my looking only got deeper too. i have no idea what i have been looking for so seriously but i suspect it is the truth.
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Tuesday, August 25th, 2009
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Everyone else let you go years ago. You know that they did. And it wasn't as easy as you'd like to make it. You weren't in control, you didn't just 'decide' that you didn't want all these people around. They decided, too. They decided for you. They grew tired of all of your bullshit. No body likes being in a one sided relationship. And you have always only looked out for yourself. You call it survival and I call it being a selfish snot. You fail to recognize the impact that you have on others. You have never been able to take responsibility for yourself. You have never grown up. Everything is always someone elses fault.
I'm the last one standing. I've been the last one standing for years now. And you have just pushed me down. And I don't care to get up. I don't care for who you've become. You left me a drunken voice-mail two months ago and it said "you're all i've got brie, you know? i don't have any other friends anymore. just brad. i don't have anyone..i love you i miss you blah balhbalhba bulllllshit"
Part of my heart breaks for myself. I feel at a great loss. You've been a really important part of my life for a long time. Or at least I thought you were really important. The more I think about it maybe I see where you're coming from. We're different people. I'm obsessed with progression and you're obsessed with making sure your life stays horrible enough to complain about legitimately. Perhaps we aren't such a good match unless both of us are incredibly unhappy with life.
Most of my heart breaks for you though. I have sympathy for what you will go through, i'm emphatic for what you've come from. But neither of those things justifies what you do. Your past and your future aren't a good excuse for being such a monster bitch.
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You aren't really making me feel that great.
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Friday, August 14th, 2009
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The daily inconsiderations add up and up and up. You think only about yourself. You fail to recognize the impact you have on other people lives. Maybe you do realize it, and you are power hungry and satisfied by your ability to change other peoples moods and days. You are sweet in the face and I almost wouldn't believe that is possible except for I have witnessed it first hand.
Today I had an interview at the Chatterbox Pub. I was really excited. It was going to be my out. Maybe you suspected that. Maybe you sabotaged me because you don't want me to move on, because you like coming in for your shift and having everything be in its place. Again, you are sweet in the face and I almost don't believe that is possible. Almost. I asked for you to come in at three thirty, three forty five at the latest. You said you would. You didn't arrive until four fifteen. Which is fifteen minutes after my interview was supposed to start.
Thats so fucking ridiculously inconsiderate. Just SO FUCKING INCONSIDERATE.
I called you, and I called you
and you didn't answer
and you were sitting in your fucking living room
at three thirty
writing a god damned facebook post.
I don't ask you to do something just to ask you. I ask you to do something because I need it to be done. Doesn't that make fucking sense? I think it makes great fucking sense.
The more I think about you the more I realize that you have never asked me anything about myself in the year that we've known each other. I know all about you. I can tell you where you were born and where you moved to when you were eight. I know where you went to college and where you moved to after. I know your middle name and your favorite drink. I know how you fucked up your back in college and how long it took you to see a doctor. I know where your therapist is. I know why you go to the therapist. I know the last guy you dated and I know that you don't know a single fucking thing about me:
Because it's about you. You are a selfish little girl. Just like almost every girl. You are entirely consumed with your own thoughts and your own feelings. You project yourself on to people like a bad movie. You never apologize and you never think you're in the wrong. You are callous and ignorant and you are even more so of both because you think you are so much the opposite of both.
I don't want to be your friend. I don't think you are a good friend.
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Thursday, August 13th, 2009
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It all got me thinking. Thinking too much. I thought about how well I thought you knew me. After much deliberation and an in-brain pros and cons list I determined that it was undeterminable.
Maybe you knew who I was so much better than I did that that is why I think you didn't know me at all. Maybe you had me very, very figured out.
Some how I doubt that though because in two thousand and six I got a little self righteous, I got a little self-help and I recognized/came to terms with all that is brieann rose thelen. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I got to know myself pretty well, and even then I still didn't believe all the things you said I was.
So does it make it a waste of time?
No.
It was learning, learning is never a waste of time.
One thought leads to another thought and I am applying our relationship to a new relationship. I think he knows me. I think he appreciates me. I hope he reads what I write. The only thing I ever really wanted out of a man was for him to read what I write. I tell all. He would know all.
I will not ask if he reads what I write because it isn't something that I want to force on someone.
I think he must read what I write because he seems to have a very good understanding of who I am, most of the time.
It doesn't matter though. None of it matters. The past is the past. The present is the past. The future is the past.
It isn't deep, or dark, or dramatic. It is matter of fact. Everything ends. Everything ultimately is the past.
An optimist would say everything is always the future, but- they have to be wrong atleast once in that statement, as that very statement would immediately be the past upon speaking it.
I think my view point is more accurate.
Even if you don't like coming to terms with how much everything isn't going to matter, ever.
It just feels like it now.
i think that being dead is exactly the same as before you were born.
And,
if you weren't alive before you were born, were you dead?
haha.
so
hahaha,
that would technically make us all zombies?
oh jesus.
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Wednesday, August 12th, 2009
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Did it really feel that important at the time? I can't tell anymore. It doesn't seem like it.
Did i ever really believe it or was saying I just saying it? Who knows.
you live you learn, you live you learn, you live you learn.
come
what
may
come
what
may
come.
comewhatmaycome.
What a piece of shit i've been.
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I haven't written anything relevant in two years.
maybe longer.
This was always a correspondence, you know. A secret telephone line from your life to mine.
I only wrote when I didn't see you.
I only had something to say when I couldn't say it.
I read it all over, all over again.
It's all over, again.
I spent an hour scouring the dates and times, trying to push them all together onto a line. Trying to make my life make sense. And it does make sense, it just doesn't feel like it happened.
It is like hard drug. With an inexplicable trip. Once you have taken it it is too late. You can not ignore it, you can not abandon it, all you can do is hope for the best and wait. It is like a hard drug. With an inexplicable trip. Even if you never wanted it to end, it was going to, and it was out of your control.
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Thursday, January 15th, 2009
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I got word back from the doctor I saw last week. One of my tests came back abnormal, and I have to get screened or cervical cancer.
How horrifying.
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Monday, January 12th, 2009
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So it drives me completely crazy. It drives me completely crazy to have to see and hear from second hand sources that you are so unhappy. It drives me crazy that you won't talk about it. You won't talk at all. You get mad at me for not being available by phone. I am mad that you are not available when you are sitting on my bed. There's always something better. There's always something else to do.
And that fucking blows. You know?
Like, what best friends are we?
And how terribly hurtful it is for you to sit there, and to do everything but talk to your two friends who are right there. Do you think about it? Do you even realize it? You sit there on your phone. You check your myspace, you text your other friends, you talk on the phone. Am I just a fucking filler? Here to make noises during the time you aren't occupied with other people? Am I just what you say you're doing so that you don't ever have to not be doing anything?
Who the hell am I to you anymore?
I feel mostly like nothing.
How does that make you feel?
I bet it would make you want to blame me for the problems.
For me, this is not about blame. This is about you. You used to be my best friend because you were my best friend. Now you are my best friend because you were my best friend.
I don't know what to do.
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Thursday, January 1st, 2009
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I'm sorry i took up probably your whole screen. I needed to host these somewhere briefly.
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Thursday, September 11th, 2008
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Friday, September 5th, 2008
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Due to my recent uprising in annoyance with the human race I will be moving permanently to the Eloise Bird Sanctuary in Theowirth park where I have built a fort capable of holding me, my two best friends and a bunch of weed.
see you never.
Seriously though. Would it kill my generation to care about politics rather than just saying they care about politics? Would it kill any of my generation to acknowledge that we are not responsible for the greatness that was the United States sixty years ago and take responsibility and action against the shit that is us. We aren't great anymore, get it through your thick, naive, ignorant heads you 18-25 year olds.
I hate this election. It is so vital and so shallow. The only thing people care about is black man, white woman, white man. red hat blue hat one hat two hat.
Why do you think it's more important to show opposition than to show support?
It doesn't make sense to me.
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Friday, August 22nd, 2008
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I would have married Kurt Vonnegut Jr. had I the chance.
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People are going to talk shit about you until you die.
They're going to talk shit about you even after that.
Even your friends are going to talk shit about you.
Talking shit is most effective when you have no idea what you're talking about.
yousashittalker.
People like to pretend they know stuff that other people don't about people.
And while you might know something about me that other people don't know
you only know it cause you made it up your damn self.
you see?
makin shit up.
imaginations at work man. imaginations at work.
smoke em if you got em?
naw.
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I am capable of just about everything, aside from convincing myself that i'm not in a bad mood.
it just doesn't work.
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So I see, so i spy, wide, fixated, hopeful, devastated eyes.
And they
search in the dark
they fixate on shadows
and out lines
and they think of things to say.
They look
for
to
at
through
inside
of you.
they pulse and throb at the sliver of light
the glimmer of hope
under the door.
And all that i have to do
is walk through
and all that i do
is keep on looking at the outline of you.
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Wednesday, June 25th, 2008
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To be honest,
to be fair,
baby,
i was scared.
to be honest,
to be fair
you were just as
unprepared.
and to be honest
to be fair
I never
ever
didn't care
To be honest
to be fair
I just have a real hard time
being there.
So it does to me, what it does to you.
A feeling, a hope, a letter, misconstrued.
And god (i still call you baby)
did I ever feel used.
And god, baby, did you ever get abused.
So we sit in separate houses, in separate cities, separate lives.
And we make separate beds, with the very same lies.
I repeat to myself that "everything must die"
I repeat to myself, simply to get by.
some days i could pick you up, and shake your brains right out of your ears.
some days i think about you.
some days i think nothing of you.
some days you're my past
some days you're lingering.
some days you're the future.
But it doesn't matter.
And I suppose I had my three strikes.
I suppose it's fair i'm out.
you came to me with an extended hand and I accused it of murder.
and i cried it.
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