Tuesday, March 30, 2004

Agghhh! Beginning of school. No, not good. No time to write anymore. No more time to lie around and play videogames.

I would like to be made into a chocolate sundae. I would like the chocolate syrup to be administered by a sultry French maid. I would like her to stand so close to my limp body that I can see up her poofy skirt as she places sugar sprinkles on me. Thassall.

I've gotten a lot of E-mail from my last entry. Thanks. I... I think he'll be okay, he's a spunky kid. At the same time, though, I went through all that, and I just want to pick those kids up and grab them by their temples and look straight into their eyes and shout, "LOOK! YOU HAVE A FUTURE! MIDDLE SCHOOL IS BULLSHIT! IT WAS CREATED BY ALIENS TO TEST THE PERSEVERANCE OF THEIR HUMAN SUBJECTS! SOME DAY YOU WILL HAVE A FRENCH NURSEMAID POURING CHOCOLATE SYRUP LOVINGLY ON YOUR NAKED BODY!" and shake them around and pour their insecurity out their ears, but I know, it takes time. In the meantime, take a middle schooler to lunch, willya? They like to be treated like adults. Hell, I did. That meant the world to me.

I really did give Dante the "you've got the whole world ahead of you" speech once. That was, bar none, the best night of my life. We had a real, true, deep conversation, and I could feel myself peeling his layers away until I got to his chewy chocolate center and I licked it up. I watched him unload all the pain he's undergone, all the rotating fathers, dead pets, strange teachers, and general frustrations of childhood, and hear him say those awful words of "I'm shrouded in darkness... it follows me everywhere. I cannot escape it. It is part of me."

(quick note: He told me that the darkness could be personified in this horrible being that invaded his nightmares. I told him that this monster is a wuss and a pansy and you could see his zipper. Look him straight and the eyes he'll run away screeching. That was some of the best advice I've ever given.)

I got to tell him--and have him believe me--that the basis for his pessimism is hooey, that he has his whole life ahead of him, he can go to college and get a job and forget about the motherfuckers who told him he'd never make it in life. He could do what he loves. He could make swords in his office on top of a skyscraper and people come from miles around to hear how he comes up with the beautiful runes he inscribes on them. And he would say, "It all comes from the inspiration brought from long, luscious nights with my lovable fuck puppy, Leticia McKenzie." And he'd slap my naked back and I'd say "Arf!" and I would be naked except for my leash (tied to his chair) and my fluffy puppy ears and I could wag my tail and sit on his desk and lick my fingers and--(BAM! Suzy hits Leticia on the head with a mallet...)

Ahem. He told me he wanted to be a healer. I said that, right? He could be a doctor. He could heal people. But I also told him... with these wonderful stories he makes up, he could be a writer. He's got a beautiful and complicated personality that I don't doubt people would pay money to get inside. I can't hear his elaborate rants about how he thinks about life (he switches uncontrollably between various personas; very amusing), or how he feels about love, or sex, or death, without knowing what a wonderful and unusual child this is. Dantes are one in a million. His eccentricity is his gift and not his burden.

But no. He decides to go with Ms. Drunk Stupid Girl and all is lost. The end. I don't care about him any more. If he wants to fuck up his life and drink and smoke pot, that's his choice. Me, I'm going to find some other man, somebody else who's one in a million, and forget I ever loved him; and, more painfully, that he ever loved me.


She wasn't a bad girl. Really. She's just let her own difficult past become her identity, the same way that Dante has. But, I got to see Dante for one brief moment when he wasn't holding himself back, [snippped-- sorry]

So I told him... oh my god... I'm seeing you. I'm seeing THROUGH you. I can see your inner light glowing like one of those stupid laser pointers. I could reach out and grab you and eat you. I could lick you up. I could BE you. I could...

Oh my god...

I love you.

No I mean, I love you love you. I mean, I want to bed you right now. Let's... seriously, do it. Our bodies will fuse. We'll be one person. Let's go.


No, what I was going to say was "I want to have sex with you, so I am going to go to my room instead, for fear that I will lose my virginity on short notice while my parents are in the same house. Sorry." But instead, I said, "I am going to sleep in my own room, okay? Goodnight, honey," emphasis on the honey. I loved him. I wanted him to know that.

But no, love lost, he's gone with the other girl. Can't say I blame him. Darkness can be hard to overcome, and it would sting your pride to go with the squeaky clean girl who emphasizes peace and serenity instead of the dark slutty girl who emphasizes brooding and sex.

Or maybe he feels a true connection with who his girlfriend is beneath the darkness.



(Yeah, a relationship based around past bad experiences is pretty unsustainable. But look, I'm just an observer, a very biased observer, and I am liable to find Every Single Reason why this relationship should never happen; even though most of why it IS happening is because she would have sex with him and I would not when we were sorta-dating. Also, we were sorta-dating for two years, so I guess my claim has run out. Also... I didn't feel like I was mature enough to handle a relationship with him, and I knew I wanted to date him once I could handle it, and I can't handle it yet, so there. Once their relationship implodes in a spectacular display of sexual drama, I'll be there, circling, for the kill.)

(Kidding! Kidding! I'd wait a good year or so for him to recover, and THEN I'd rip his shirt off.)
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