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[06 Mar 2006|09:28pm] |
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mood |
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 melancholy |
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music |
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Sade |
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Dream
Sleep takes me by surprise
my hand limp
a pen resting between my fingers.
I have often sought
meaning in my little words,
but my mind understands
the futility of those conscious thoughts.
My mind gently sedates me
writing the story that
I tried in vain to write
from the inside out
effortlessly creating,
filling an awkward writer's gaps
with lullabies and
my mother's scent -
things only I could know
things that can never be put into words
things that only exist
nestled deep in my memory.
February 24, 2006
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| flowers on your grave. |
[12 Oct 2005|07:53am] |
Someone with my personality type feels every emotion intensified.
I woke up at 5 am and couldn't sleep. I was physically sick to my stomach. The fact that he never called meant she slept over. The worst part was not knowing...
then I got these:
"I'm so sorry, Claire."
"You don't even know how bad I feel, but it's not going to work. I'm so sorry I messed everything up. I have to give her another chance."
"I've never felt so bad about anything in my life. I completely fucked you over and I'll understand if you hate me."
When I thought I couldn't feel any lower, I let someone get my hopes wayyyyy up, and now I'm left worse than when I started.
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[11 Oct 2005|10:48pm] |
Zach went for coffee today with his ex. He discussed it with me and I said it was ok. Although I would feel slightly uncomfortable, it would be ok.
Now he calls, upset, watching her sit in her car outside his house. He doesn't know what to do. I knew this would happen.
The fact that he makes me happy is undeniable, but I hate living like this. My sanity is dangling from a tiny delicate thread that could snap at any second, and when it does I am sent spiraling into a whirlwind of depression again. I might even prefer the perpetual bad mood to these tiny glimpses of light from time to time.
//i am folded
and unfolded
and unfolding
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[06 Sep 2005|11:20pm] |
It's in your nature to
lose interest suddenly
we are both artists
who suck the marrow out
of each lovely bone
It just happens to be
my lovely bones
this time
How Bare
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| Cubby, |
[19 Jul 2005|06:41pm] |
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Thanks for that.
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[18 Jun 2005|12:17am] |
I find it strange that we search
our whole lives for love
as though it were the
final treasure
the solemn purpose of people
in movies and magazines.
Yet when it comes to your door
one morning with calm eyes to deliver itself
you realize it alone is not enough.
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[01 Jun 2005|09:17pm] |
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Ryan took me to the movies this week. We both described it as "odd" - at times I was sitting next to my best friend yet it felt like being with a stranger. I gave him an awkward hug and kiss on the neck before he left. I don't know what is in store for us, if anything.
It feels like someone is mutilating my uterus with a chainsaw. I wish I was a boy.
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[25 May 2005|03:52pm] |
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mood |
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 worried |
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music |
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Hymie's Basement-"America Too" |
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"I always lose interest right when I think I've found the right one."
He didn't seem uninterested when his warm hand rested on my stomach, keeping me awake, or when he whispered "You're adorable" in my ear as I sat there crying. He didn't seem uninterested when he said "Hurry back" every time I left the room. Or when he kissed me on the playground that night when I was still dizzy from the tireswing. We drove fast on the highway and listened to "Everlong" like it meant something. At least I had prepared myself for this.
This hurts more than I had expected it to. I can't even get an explanation from him. I wasn't his girlfriend. We were "together". Not even together. Borderline. But the feelings he resurrected made me sure it would last. I watched him do this to Cassie. I don't know the girl but I feel for her. I watched him ignore her phone calls when we were together, and perhaps that's why he has been ignoring mine. There must be someone new. Or there must be something repulsive about me that he just discovered.
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[24 May 2005|03:23pm] |
My intuition is so good it's sickening.
It's been raining all day and I wasn't able to get anything done. I could crawl into bed and put on Placebo and not wake up until tomorrow.
On days like this I still miss Ryan. His new bitch has cat eyes.
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| oh god yes. she is love. she is sex. |
[23 May 2005|09:05pm] |
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mood |
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 distressed |
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music |
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Cursive-"Sinner's Serenade" |
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Hmmmmmmmmm.
( my incredible dream. )
I hesitate to write about how much fun I'm having with Rob because I'm 95% sure that this happy buzz will be over soon. I won't write about all the places we've been because in a month I will look back and notice how naive I was. I sensed something different about him from our first real conversation. We discussed books and experiences and there were countless "I feel the same exact way"s. He rekindled a feeling in me that I forgot existed. It's refreshing that I can discuss literature with him and that he's not kissing the ass of every scene kid in New England. I can't stop listening to Say Anything and I know I will hate all these songs when he fucks me over. Not to be negative. Maybe I should be more trusting; it's not easy. Someone could say I'm just scared, but gut instinct is usually right.
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[10 May 2005|09:59pm] |
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music |
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PJ Harvey - "One Line" |
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I am a walking bad mood. Sorry, everyone. I was having an honest conversation with Tim today and it ended with my semi-joking "have a nice life" because we never hang out anymore. He called me cynical and then I felt like a bitch.
Immediately after I posted yesterday about wondering where my mother was, she called. She miscarriaged and had to have surgery because she was hemorrhaging. Only 2-3 weeks pregnant and she wasn't even aware.
I don't know what would be worse. It would be cruel to bring a child into a life like that - food stamps and pills and no car and no permanent place to live. Yet I couldn't stomach the thought of her having an abortion.
"I don't do too much talking these days
these days I seem to think a lot about the things that I forgot to do
and all the times I've had the chance to
i had a lover
i don't think i'll risk another these days"
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[09 May 2005|03:58pm] |
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music |
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Alanis Morissette-"Sympathetic Character" |
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My mother doesn't call me anymore. For weeks I have left concerned voicemails, none of which were returned. In a drunken 2 am rage I begged her to call. Mother's Day came and went; still nothing.
I have toyed with the idea of talking to someone. I've admitted to myself that I'm unhappy. I'm not as resilient as I used to be. "I have been silently suffering and adapting, perpetuating, and enduring." Yet I don't think I'd be comfortable paying someone to listen to my bullshit. I don't want an uninterested doctor glancing at his watch and taking notes while I come to terms with my life problems. I have too much pride.
I'm not depressed. Just sort of apathetic. Content with being messy. Willing to feel exploited. More than happy to let alcohol fix everything.
 
God, I look like my mother in those. I'm shot.
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| more entries from the real diary of CLAIRE |
[24 Apr 2005|07:22pm] |
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mood |
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 angry |
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music |
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Fight Paris - "Fuck Me Stilettos" |
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March 29, 2005
I felt the passion of my rage in my dream last night.
Ryan wanted to be with only me and he had been thinking about things lately. When I called to ask about making the necessary arrangements, he told me had to postpone. I wondered what he was doing instead. One of his friends accidentally mentioned him hanging out with Mandi and I felt so used.
I attacked the girl. I dug my nails into her until she was red in the face from screaming. Realizing what I was doing, I pushed her away and apologized over and over again.
Later, I was sitting high on a ledge. I had a gag in my mouth and I looked for paper to write on. I wanted to tell everyone: Ryan did this to me. Ryan has prevented me from being free.
I only vaguely remembered a second dream about submarines heading toward the ship I sailed on.
March 31, 2005
And the word of the day is... facade.
I have to move from pretending not to care...to forgiving and moving on. It is such a challenge to love my enemies. And when I meet the person who will rescue me from the undertow I will be so grateful and I'll sing PJ Harvey and thank God.
April 5, 2005
I've finally done myself in with Ryan. Time and time again alcohol ruins everything between us.
Before I passed out, I vaguely remember him wishing I would die of liver failure. Ryan, enjoy it when I do. Sit back and laugh when I keep drinking against doctor's orders, like my father. It's really finished now. I'm quite sure.
Today - April 24, 2005
I couldn't speak at the dinner table because anger was filling me up inside. I hate the way my father has to eat with his hands because he can't use a fork properly. I hate how like a child, I still can't handle getting "no" for an answer. I have 11 more pages to write before morning.
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| the last month on paper |
[11 Apr 2005|12:59pm] |
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music |
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Cursive - "Am I Not Yours?" |
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March 11, 2005
Last night I dreamt I was at a concert with Lauryn and I knew a terrorist attack was impending. When the alarms went off I dashed down 18 stairs then looked up at Lauryn standing there helplessly. Weighing my options in less than a second, I ran back up to get her. By the time I reached the top, it was so smokey that I couldn't see her. I felt around for her skinny arms and yelled "Koz". When I found her, we ran together down many sets of stairs.
Ryan and I didn't last, I know, but we really were elegant together. There were no gaps. I broke that smooth line we made together - always thinking the same and fitting perfectly together. God, I miss sitting in my bedroom listening to "The Stone" and falling asleep between conversations, most of them about insignificant things.
March 15, 2005
I came to the conclusion that I miss my mother immensely. I can so clearly recall the feel of her pink nightgown wet with my tears against my cheek. I loved her dinners, always so balanced and good and I never appreciated it. There was always enough for seconds and leftovers.
I would stare at her face in the rearview mirror. I thought she was so beautiful. I still do. I love the way the tip of her nose is pointed and it moves when smiles. I love her crooked, imperfect teeth and baby-soft skin. Her small ears, her freckles, the smell of her Clinique Happy before work and the distinct sound of her walking around upstairs.
Kateri was talking about her sisters and I realized how strongly I've felt the impact of not being with Cubby. Somehow the presence of another teen made school and all other stresses dull. I would in a second go back to her blasting Aaron Carter and locking me out of her room. Drumming at 9:00 on a Sunday morning. Watching Nickelodeon in the family room. God it wold be so much more cozy to live with her. I'm unsure if it's possible. I couldn't live there and she wouldn't come here. Maybe I can stay there in the summer. A humming fan, soda and grilled cheese, afternoon soaps, and the sound of a baby waking up from a nap. What I used to despise I now miss becuase my memories are what have made me.
March 21, 2005
When I tried to fall asleep last night, images flashed wildly before my eyes and I was shaky. I had "the nightmare" except I really thought I was dying because my life was shown to me in a slideshow-like display. I felt my heart throbbing inside me and my chest was hot.
March 26, 2005
I dreamt of committing matricide on Holy Saturday.
I visited her and Dylan in a treehouse over a dirty river where the city scumbags lived. As the day went on I realized she was lost and trying to get rid of any impediments. She threw me overboard and I was paralyzed by the cold. She told me a story about a Leah, the girl who was attacked by a crocodile.
We passed a boat shipping Coca Cola products and I pleaded with a hardcore kid to help me. He said no but I grabbed onto his tunnels and pulled myself up. I punched my mother three times in the temple to render her unconscious. Holding her down, I asked him for a pocket knife. I slit her throat from ear to ear and mutilated her even though she was already dead. In that emotional way when you're taking all your anger out.
I ran around in search of a priest to absolve me or at least tell me I wasn't wrong to do it after all she had put me through.
I cannot love myself and Ryan simultaneously.
March 27, 2005
I would never wish that pain upon anyone. I went to the old house to gather my things after 6 months.
The condition of the basement made me shudder. Stray cats and a sandbox of shit. Cat hair everywhere.
My eyes filled with tears as I climbed the stairs Ryan had chased me up so many times and I nearly expected to toss my purse on the bed and put Ani Difranco on. The silence startled me and I was in Claire's bedroom and Clare was a stranger who had died in a fatal car accident and all her things were still in place like she had been alive. It was surreal. I couldn't fathom the reality that all the times spent were covered in dust and even if you brushed them off, they would never be quite as shiny again.
I didn't want to disturb anything. The most tangible pieces of Ryan were still tangled between those sheets, in that drawer, in the carpet. I could never be as close to him as I am while in that room. So hard to believe everything that had happened within those four walls. Replaying the memories in my head was NOTHING compared to breathing that air and turning the doorknob that now felt awkward in my unaccustomed hand.
My mother's bathroom felt so cold and I rummaged through the drawers I knew were empty, looking for something that said this was our home. The next people can't imagine all I've buried in those walls.
In the driveway, I could picture his black GTI as I ran to the door after 10 minutes of stalling. THe cold air was exactly like I had remembered it, quiet in the middle of Oxford except for the breeze through the trees. The only thing keeping me warm was his hug and a pink bathrobe. Or maybe I was stilled flushed from our last twenty minutes. On my last trip, I recalled the first time he stopped by and how I watched from the window. His hug on the porch countless times...and in the end, his goodbye and the sting of his curses in that doorway.
The woodburning stove where we slept and I didn't feel alone when I woke on weekdays to Dave Matthews' "Trouble". Utterly euphoric in my sleepy remembrance of all that made my life so good.
The white hallways where he held me against the wall and kissed me with the taste of green apple still in his mouth.
The mornings we spent exploring each other. The couch where I cuddled and rested my face on his chest in the August heat.
Sitting at the computer with "Centrefolds" on and imagining the day he'd be there. Then the day he was. It rained and I played with his hair in the dark.
I want to burn the desk and the red comforter and the books on the nightstand. There was a reason I left those things there. I hoped they would just be memories the next time I visited.
Tonight I reburied them in boxes, but I cannot wear these clothes. These are Claire's clothes and I cannot wear them.
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| ryan cale corchard |
[06 Mar 2005|11:50pm] |
oh you
why are you stepping on my thoughts?
i knew the attention from you would be as transient as your warmth of your hand on my back
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[26 Jan 2005|02:46pm] |
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mood |
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melancholy |
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music |
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Maria Mena - "Sorry" |
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( THINGS I MISS )
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| pull your hair, claire |
[04 Jan 2005|08:42am] |
I tried to quit Xpect but the manager convinced me to stay. She said I am one of the best people there, and that I could adjust my schedule. I don't fit in at there. I'm not a slacker, and I have a good work ethic. If I overcharge someone, I tell him I made a mistake. I am white; almost everyone else is Puerto Rican or black. I'm not "Ma", "Mamacita", or "Yo" - my name is Claire. Even the adults are disrespectful and unfriendly.
Ryan is [possibly] coming over tomorrow night. I haven't seen him in a long time so it is sure to be an interesting time. He makes every excuse in the world not to - too far to drive, too weird, need to take a nap, etc. I'm not sure what to expect.
I start a course at Yale next week. I was hoping to take Russian but all the language classes are in the morning. I still haven't decided what to take: help?
( course descriptions )
picture post to follow
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| i'm tired of feeling nothing, goodbye |
[20 Dec 2004|07:42pm] |
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mood |
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pessimistic |
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music |
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John Lennon - "Working Class Hero" |
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They were right when they said it, though I never believed it. "You internalize all these terrible things happening to you and we are just concerned that one small thing is going to set off an explosion." Countless family members said it but I was convinced that I was fine. Maybe I was fine.
The small thing that set it off: I broke a $20 piece of my sister's camera which led to a hysterical breakdown.
Ryan will always find another way to make me feel like shit, another way I've disappointed him, another guilt trip about how I've ruined his life and left him friendless and miserable. Yet when he wishes I'd be lynched or get AIDS, I hold my tongue and bend my breath and apologize profusely. Why?
I look at my life and wonder what I have to complain about. Day to day, I am surrounded by my wonderful friends who make life more than bearable. The laughs we share brighten my day, and I am very grateful to have them. I'm in much better health now that I've been eating. No more bruises and broken blood vessels and exhaustion. I've shopped a lot lately - instant gratification but no serious contentment.
The problem seems to be mankind's constant hunger for love (thank you sophomore religion). Friendship is wonderful but I long for some type of romance. I won't even ask for the star-watching, <3's in my profile, poetry and prose romance. I would just love to talk to someone about my day while we lay in bed with the lights off. Maybe because that's all I've known of a relationship (ahem). I want someone who will drop by without calling first. I want to take pictures of him while he's asleep. I want someone to give my art to. Make me go, "You know, I never heard it put that way." Surprise me.
I'm taking a class at Yale in a few weeks. Haven't chosen the course yet. It's exciting but I am apprehensive.
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