damik's Diaryland Diary

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Follow the white rabit

I have a daydream I've been indulging for a while, I won't write about it here because its too soon and would be sure to frighten some people. Instead I'll write about a little daydream I've been having.
The scean is late August. We are alone on the beach in Santa Cruz, the waves crash, the sun warms our skin. Children call out, people fly kites, the roar of the big dipper can be heard in the background. Dogs bark and fetch sticks or frisbees, music is carried on the wind from a stray radio or two.
We lie on the soft fleece blanket, he and I. Wrapped up in each others arms oblivious of anything else in the world. All the sounds and sights are mearly a backdrop for our beautiful day at the beach. He gently brushes my cheek and stares at me as if I'm the only girl he sees. I run my fingers through his soft red hair, watching as he shuts his eyes in contentment. I almost expect him to start to purr.
Time does not exist for us in this moment. It doesn't pass instead it holds us for as long as our hearts and souls need. Time gives us a memory to hold onto when life tries to knock us down and out again. We can close our eyes and remember that time on the beach when we knew what really mattered.
We may never get to experence that on our trip to California, we may not even get to go to California in August, but even here sometimes a moment in his arms-
God, ulch, does anyone want some butter with that corn?
God I'm such a child.
I still worry that she's right in what she said, that I will make Will as miserable as I made Trevor. I'm going to piss people off saying this but right now I don't give a shit. I've tried to be, but I can't. Its not in my nature. I want to be a good person. I will never be. I'll end up hurting people all my life, but will always suround myself because I can't stand myself enough to be alone. Everyone deserves better then me. Trevor, Will, the guys who I let use me like tissue, they all deserved better. I know I have problems, I've never shyed away from the fact. Everything I ever got I had coming to me. (Don't respond to that, no matter what you can say, it will always be true to me.) I don't make them up. The only reason I've been writing about it so much now, is while I know Trevor deserved better, I've also come to the realization I deserve better, too. He could fill volumes with how much I hurt him, I don't pretend I didn't, and I never will. Hell, I'm the bitch who left him on his birthday. Working this labor job now I understand just how fully unreasonable I was demanding his time when he got home from work, how tired he truely must have been. I'd never worked a job like his, I never knew, just assumed he said no because he didn't want to be with me, because he was sick of me. What he found important didn't always matter to me. I never had a clean home for him to come home to.
She's wrong in some respects, I never said he raped me. I wouldn't say that. I prostituted myself for a car. The situation was far to involved for me to explain, but to me it happened just as I wrote it almost two years ago. To me it felt just as I wrote it almost two years ago.
I was a cold woman, there is only two things you can expect if you try to stay in a relationship being that way, either you'll get drawn out nasty fights about the act its self, or he'll start looking elsewhere. We both should have known better and seperated when that because a problem instead of hanging on as long as we did. We learned the hard way that nothing good can come of it.
I don't know, its strange to see from some one who only thinks they know part of the real story what a horriable person I am. I didn't need you to tell me though, I had figured it out a long time ago.
I've said it before, I need a warning lable. "I'll hurt you so deaply. You'll wish you never met me and yet you'll keep holding on."
I should be studied, I'm sure I'm some kind of strange new parisite, I ooze some kind of hormone that makes my victom feel for me, when I get close enough I latch on sucking them dry, draining them of everything they are worth. They are fully concious of what I'm doing to them, and yet they still hold on because they want me there, they think even as I'm emptying them of any good they ever possessed, that they can still save me. That somewhere underneath the hurtfull, hatefull, thing they've come to see is still the mirage they were attracted to in the first place.
I keep telling him this, I keep warning Will. I'm going to hurt you. And yet, he choses to stay. I don't understand why. Nothing good can come of this despite any daydream I may have. All he'll be left with is bitter feelings of what I've done to him. And he choses to stay.
Is it fair that in my diary I don't write so much how I've hurt other people? Is it fair that I focus on the pain I've felt. I don't know why he's chosen to only remeber to good I did to him. There was a time when all he saw was how much I hurt him. What I didn't do for him. Is it my fault he choses to believe he's lost something good? I wasn't, and I won't pretend to be. I didn't think I was trying to. Did I raise my head too high, meet too many people in the eye?
I wish we could hate eachother, it would be easier for all concerned.

1:48 p.m. - 07-24-03
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