by Megan Boyle
SEEMS SO DIFFERENT FROM THE WAY I LIKE TO DO THINGS
BUT THE STUFF I’M…THAT I WRITE…OR WAHTEVER…I FEEL LIKE IT’S VERY BASED ON ‘THE WAY I LIKE TO DO THINGS/THE WAY I THINK’
YOU PRECIOUS LESS THAN TEN PEOPLE
YOU HAVE NO IDEA
YOU MAKE ME WANT TO KEEP GOING (I DON’T KNOW IF THAT’S A GOOD THING)
THE HOPE THAT THERE WILL BE MORE OF YOU
ACTUALLY I JUST COUNTED, THERE ARE TEN EXACTLY
I AM THANKFUL TO HAVE MET THIS MANY, THAT YOU ARE OUT THERE, THANK YOU FOR BEING OUT THERE
ARE THERE MORE
I’M NOT SAYING THIS TO ALIENATE ANYONE
I’M SAYING THIS BECAUSE I NEVER GET TO SAY IT
NEVER ALLOW MYSELF TO SAY IT BECAUSE I’M AFRAID OF ALIENATING ALL OF YOU PEOPLE WHO SEEM TO HAVE NO QUALMS ABOUT ALIENATING ME
SHITTY
ALL OF US ARE SHITTY
YOU ME THE LESS THAN TEN PEOPLE ALL THE REST OF EVERYONE THE WHOLE BIG WRITHING DUMP OF SHITTYNESS YES EVERYONE
EVERYONE BUT MOM
HER TRAGEDY IS THAT SHE THOUGHT I WOULD NOT BE SHITTY
EVERYONE SHOULD LEARN FROM MY MOM
DAD TOO, KIND OF
IT IS TRAGIC HOW THEY THOUGHT…I WOULD…JUST…CONSIDERING EVERYTHING…PEOPLE…THE WORLD…WHAT WERE THEY THINKING
I’M SORRY
I’M SO SORRY TO EVERYTHING
3:25AM: shirley jumped on the bed and sat by alvie’s head and he was laying and raised his head so he could lick her head and for one moment everything was okay. i didn’t think about anything else. it just filled me.
4:14AM: gathered laundry, put out extra food for cats, put on ‘frederick barthleme’ shirt from tao via ‘in case i die this will be a funny shirt to die in and it will get people to buy frederick’s and tao’s books maybe.’ laying on mattress. responded to gchat from zachary. we’ve been riffing about [omitted]’s okcupid profile. looked at the profile. he added something about wanting ‘great sex,’ not just ‘casual sex.’ yuck. just another person out there. doing doom. not just ‘casual’ doom, ‘great’ doom. making little doomsdays. laying doomsday turd. preparing to shit all over whatever unlucky toilet comes his way. doesn’t even know that’s what he’s doing. i know there is someone out there for him, probably hundreds of someones, but how is it that they’re all stupider than me. they are…but. how are there so many stupider than me. i’m so stupid. it’s funny. haha. who will my next person be. will i be too stupid for them or will they be too stupid for me. back hurts. ate amounts of choline, aniracetam, three tylenol. tired. i don’t want to see the pickles & pies employees seeing me at 4AM, buying energy drinks.
i want to live on a ranch in montana where all i have to do is make babies with some stupid guy i love and who loves me and we get to play with the babies and eat food and watch movies and jeopardy every day and all of us get old and die and there are no banks or car insurance or drugs or parking tickets and the internet burns down and shirley never pees the bed again for as long as we both shall live.
4:50AM: there are more than less than ten of you. i didn’t factor in certain things.
5:39am: going to Duane reade instead of pickles & pies. At traffic light. Windows foggy.
5:45am: bought e-cigarette, sf red bull and monster zero from Duane reade. Card didn’t scan. Guy said ‘i’ll just have to do it manual.’ ‘Sorry.’ ‘That’s okay, give me something to do.’ Liked him.
5:51am: Can’t believe [omitted] would change that he wants ‘great’ and not ‘casual’ sex but would neglect to change ‘body type: ‘thin” to ‘body type: ‘average,’ ‘athletic,’ ‘[maybe just omit this part].” Unless he’s lost at least 15lbs in three weeks. He looked good to me but would not call him ‘thin.’ Girls looking for ‘great’ sex must be disappointed when they meet him in person, if they expected ‘thin.’ I’m being nasty right now I don’t care. If y’all don’t like my lyrics you can press fast forward.
7:47am: stopped to pee at Clara Barton rest stop. Parked in front of abandoned yellow stuffed bear with a price tag still on its ear, perched atop a garbage can. Seems endlessly…just…endless. Saddest thing. Endless. Not really the saddest thing. ‘Up there,’ though. I’m peeing now. Pee smells dehydrated. I am sucking through this e-cigarette hard. Can feel I’ve almost depleted it. The only brand that ‘pulls’ hard enough for me is called ‘logic.’ Smoking a ‘blu’ brand disposable. Should’ve sucked it up and bought refills from pickles & pies instead of subverting familiar employee interactions at Duane reade.
7:51am: thought ‘I want to be in love’ and pictured myself here, in stinky rest stop stall, bent over iPhone, having finished peeing for some time now, and laughed through nose. Here I am, world!!! At your service!!!!! Human toilet having a precious moment on a toilet toilet!!!!!
There was this porno video my friends Seth and Matt and Lindsay and me used to watch. It was an inside joke. The girl has a toilet seat on her neck and the guy is saying ‘you bad little toilet’ and ‘it’s never enough for girls like you, is it?’ and ‘bad toilet! That’s a good toilet.’ We would quote it to each other a lot and call people ‘bad toilets.’ My heart is like, fluttering remembering this, I loved ‘bad toilet.’ The thing about it though…I didn’t think there were actually men in the world who’d orgasm from that. It was too over the top, not even sexual. Oh how young I was. I’ve never said ‘bad toilet’ exactly but Jesus Christ the things I’ve said and done.
Putting in a request, for my next person: it can’t be someone who would call themselves ‘obsessed with porn’ or likes humiliation porn or anal sex. It’s just. Um. As open-minded as I like to think of myself as being…think I don’t want to do stuff like that anymore. Unless…I don’t know. If they were similar to me in ways I thought were more important and like, doing the ‘[whatever sex thing they want to do]’ would make them happy and I didn’t doubt other things about our relationship, then. Yeah. Guess that’d be fine. I’d prefer us to like the same things sexually though.
7:57am: inserted two quarters in coin slot and cranked the knob of a vending machine labeled ‘treasure chest.’ Thought ‘hope I get something cool, I want one of the cool things.’ Got a ring. Put it on. I don’t know what the ‘cool thing’ would’ve been. Wandered around sunoco travel mart, looking for e-cigarettes. No cashier. Heard voices coming from somewhere I couldn’t see.
7:59am: sitting in car now. It looked stolen, for a moment. The sad yellow stuffed animal is still here. ‘Still here, as it ever was.’ Now people are sitting at the picnic table.
8:07am: sang along to ‘sympathy for the devil.’ The part I know best is the guitar solo. Tongued potential cavity. Upper left molar. Second from furthest back. It is foggy but sunny outside.
8;18am: I’ve only had anal sex with two close friends and [omitted]. I feel like I want to have anal sex with like, hundreds of men now, so [omitted] doesn’t think he’s special. There is something raw and unexpected about typing this. He dated me and had anal sex with me and now I am a girl he ‘really felt something real, sweet girl, had genuine feelings for her.’ He’ll say that to the next girl, like he’d say things like that to me, about girls he’s dated. ‘Sweet girl, had genuine feelings for her.’ Why does ‘sweet girl’ kill me like that. When he’d tell me he’d told people we were dating, a lot of the people seemed to know who I was. Seems so shitty. Leveraging knowing a person as shitty as me to have sex with some other shitty person. How do I take that back? Can I take back knowing…him…no. I don’t know what would help. Making him watch me have anal sex with younger more attractive men. Men I’ve been in relationships with and want to be in relationships with. Getting it real hard. Skypeing all his co-workers and friends and yelling secrets about him while someone passionately has sex with my ass and other parts, and [omitted] is just there in the background on a chair or something. Fuck that guy. ‘Not just casual sex, great sex.’ The [omitted] way. The thing I’d be doing to him would be called ‘omitted style.’ His sad emp
ty whatever-it-is where people’s hearts usually are. Omitted. It is fitting that he’s ‘omitted.’ Perfect. Would suggest a legal name change if not for the text message it’d require, and all the government employees inconvenienced by paperwork for a person who never needed to be there anyway.
I’m aware of being dramatic right now. I’ve been restraining myself from typing things like this for weeks. Will be interesting to put this out there.
Think I would rather be known as someone ‘insane, emotional, advisable not to fuck with’ than ‘kind, reasonable, empathetic, forgiving.’ At this point. At this moment, 8:28am August 21, 2013, that is what I want. I’m just upset and this will pass.
Do not fuck with me.
Enough of people thinking they can fuck with me.
Go ahead and try. I have nothing to lose. Do not fuck with an emotionally unstable woman with nothing to lose.
Go ahead and tell everyone about sex with my asshole. No here, I’ll do it for you.
I shit out of my asshole every one or two days. Your dick has had particles of my shit on it. So. Joke’s on you. Why do I feel this way about this.
The most hurtful thing said to me was a long text message from an ex, harshly critiquing my body.
I hope [omitting this part as of August 26, 2013]
[omitting this part as of August 26, 2013]
Haha.
Nothing to lose.
[omitting this part as of August 26, 2013]
Wanting to ‘beat’ rage by pretending I don’t feel it.
It feels so bad.
Nobody in my corner, not even me.
Everyone wants something from me and when they get it they’re done and so that means it’s over.
I am stupid enough to allow it to happen and I do it too.
Not anymore, fuck that, no one gets to fuck with me anymore.
Fuck with me and get hurt.
Want to be known as the DMX of emotional…something…
Only to people who hurt me on purpose.
I consider ‘just not thinking, in the moment’/‘not considering how I’d feel about something you’re about to do, like lie or have sex with others if we’ve agreed to be honest and monogamous’ to be ‘hurting me on purpose.’
I don’t know maybe not though.
Tired of thinking ‘I’m responsible for everything that happens to me,’ sometimes I’m not, I don’t get to choose everything but I get to choose how I react but I’m tired of choosing to react by keeping quiet and accepting/moving on. I will always get to the ‘accepting’ part.
There is a part in between that I ignore but maybe part of my problem is ignoring that part as much as I do.
I’ve never felt anything like this, that I can remember, that I feel right now.
Corner-reversal, now 100% in my corner.
No one else is.
Someone needs to be if I want to stay alive.
I feel most ‘in control’ when I’m saying ‘I accept this and move on.’ This is a survival thing, I think. It’s not completely genuine.
There is always this hot moment before accepting though.
Do not allow myself much time in the hot moment because it is a little scary, the hotness.
I think I could do very terrible things, I have the potential to go absolutely insane with rage, I have raged out on myself as like, a substitute ‘host body’ for the rage.
Most violent things I’ve done to me: three suicide attempts (12, cutting wrists & pills: 17, pills; 26, cutting wrist & pills), scratching my arms/skin in arguments until there is blood, picking at face and back until there is blood weekly to daily since 2002, a few months in 2006 where I’d get drunk and drive to see ‘if it happens this time,’ a few sprained ankles as a kid from intentionally falling or not stopping myself from falling so I could get out of gym class, making myself vomit, guess you could say my lifestyle/drug habits aren’t healthy but are less outwardly violent. Feel stupid for saying all of these things, like. I’m not bragging, just wanted to make a list to see if it was as bad as I thought and it wasn’t.
9:40AM: arrived at mom’s. smelled it. the smell of it here. saw her sleeping and tried to silently place keys in the dish. it smells like so much. it’s something kind. i’m crying. i can’t take it. how someone…the way…just getting to see that she’s bought groceries. all of the names of products. an ‘heirloom watermelon.’ i can’t take it. what is going on with me. i can’t say it well now. i’m crying. she’s too good of a person to know me. i’m the unlikely winner of a reality TV show contest, they just said ‘you finally got it: the prize,’ and now they’re showing me all changes to come. that’s what it feels like to be here right now and to smell it and see the groceries and there is cold water in the fridge and so many things in the fridge and boxes of ‘kind’ bars and all the pretty things she’s collected over the years, the things she’d say ‘look at all the pretty things’ about and the little me she carried would repeat ‘pitty sings,’ the light she leaves on all the time because of how it looks coming through the slats of the trash room door. it’s like i’m out of jail. i can’t believe this room. she put the dragons on my bed. no one else in the world would think that much about me, to do that. something like that. nobody.
9:41AM–8:59PM: abandoned.
9:00pm: mom is excited about her ‘droid’ phone. Told her I’d buy her a box of ‘kind’ bars and ‘harvest bread’ from whole foods.
9:51pm: whole foods was closed. Driving around beltway.
10:24pm: parked at wegman’s.
11:04pm: still sitting in car. Ate 10mg oxycodone. They should prescribe it as an antidepressant. It makes me calm and gracious and view things like the wegman’s sign as benign and gossamer-y. In the distance a 90’s-sounding r&b song has been playing on repeat. Earlier a man with a bandana on his head sang along in a falsetto while he loaded a car. Wanted to blow him a kiss. Car is smelly like my shoes and perfume. I feel oily but like…how the oil in parking lot puddles reflects a rainbow sheen…like, dreamily/foggily spinning. Back and right-side torso muscles hurt. Think I did something to it the other night when giving Mira an ‘airplane ride.’ Have been sitting here since like, 10:24pm. I can hear crickets. It is hot and stale in this car but it feels nice. Feels like the song ‘drinking in l.a.’ by bran van 3000. That was one of Zachary’s and my ‘songs.’
11:11pm: guess I’ll go in now.
11:50pm: bumbled around store. Bought surprises for mom and smoothie materials. ‘Mr. Blue sky’ by elo and a plinky Gwen stefani song played.
AUGUST 22, 2011
12:[something]–2:[something]AM: arrived home from wegman’s. talked with mom, helped her with her droid, painted nails, ate leftovers, watched old SNLs.
2:[something]–4:[something]AM: watched ‘crazy stupid love’ with mom and talked/joked a lot during it.
4:[something]–9:[something]AM: looked at internet. 3mg xanax, 20mg oxycodone total. looked at ASMR videos.
4:[something]PM: woke.
4:[something]-11:59PM: abandoned.
AUGUST 23, 2013
did not update
AUGUST 24, 2013
3:11AM: watching ‘the office’ in my room. waiting for ‘newman’s own’ pizza to bake.
5:16pm: walking down stairs. Driving to inner harbor whole foods.
5:21pm: sitting in car parked in whole foods parking garage. Bought ‘blueprint’ green juice. Nostalgic for summer 2011. Kenny (guy who lived with his girlfriend, my dad, me) is at dad’s office. He lives in West Virginia now.
5:31pm: I didn’t even really want the green juice. Just hanging around here for…I don’t know. I don’t want to go back to New York. Dad is off work 6. Driving to his office to say hi. None of the music I have feels right.
5:36pm: car with ‘Baltimore rock opera society’ bumper sticker passed on the right. Passenger and driver inside. Imagined them listening to queen or something.
6:03pm: Mom said I could come back whenever I wanted.
6:23pm: met
a pregnant patient of dad’s. Eyes watered while listening to her talk cheerfully about due date. Now she is behind me at traffic light. Slammed on breaks. It was yellow but I could’ve gone.
6:31pm: radio dj said ‘I heard you like roller coasters.’ Girl said ‘I do, a lot.’ Dj said ‘have you ever been on a stand-up roller coaster?’ Girl giggled and said ‘no, I haven’t.’ Dj said ‘well we’re gonna change that.’ He sounded kind and old.
6:39pm: Parked at petsmart.
6:52pm: the cashier liked ‘Benny and the jets.’ She asked if I wanted a bag for three items.
6:58pm: stopped at Walgreen’s for e-cigarette. Woman behind me in line said ‘well that was a very nice, uh, how do you do’ as I left. Feel horrible. Have eaten 10mg oxy, 10mg Vicodin today.
7:03pm: ate 10mg oxy. Fleetwood Mac playing on radio.
8:11pm: at pretty futuristic Delaware rest stop. Accidentally parked car (only needed gas but going to ‘run with this’ and use bathroom). Smells like chicken in here. Have been listening to dancehall radio station and feeling happy but it’s not coming in clearly anymore.
8:13pm: two pennies on floor of bathroom stall. Picked them up, putting in pocket currently. I lied, they were in my pocket by the time I typed ‘them.’ Distinctly remember sitting in this stall for like, a long time…tweeting something, maybe…years ago, maybe.
9:35pm: ate 1mg Xanax. Have been listening to ‘drinks after work’ by Toby Keith on repeat for maybe an hour. It came on the radio and I googled lyrics and bought it before it had ended.
11:11pm: ate 1mg Xanax. Want McDonald’s badly. Shit I gotta feed cats before me. Gian texted. A gian event has popped up. Gotta pee. Hope there are no piles of doom awaiting in apt.
AUGUST 25, 2013
did not update.
AUGUST 26, 2013