Well. I can't work out whether that was a good night, or a monumentally dreadful one; looking at what I've done to myself, though, I reckon monumentally dreadful wins.
And I am going to tell this empty box why, although I'm not telling you lot, per se. I'm just telling the post box. Because it's there. And it's two in the morning and I know how few of you read mid-Friday-night posts.
I never thought a kiss from a beautiful man could make me so unhappy. Anyway, I am alienfox's official stalker now, so that's fun. I need a new badge. It's just that..."Are you my stalker?" "Well...yes." It was all I could say, because it was all I was asked. Yeah, you know, I am. It's just not all there is to me. I doubt that got across.
I've been here before, with ciphergoth, when I was this freaky novelty, someone who'd read what he'd written and chased down pictures of him, and it was weird, people were honestly worried about me because of it. Is it stalking? No, of course it isn't. I don't know where the boy lives; if I did, I wouldn't sit outside waiting for him to show. That's stalking. This is admiration. Naked admiration, perhaps, but nothing more base than that. And it should be acceptable. It should be acceptable to admire someone for being intelligent and beautiful and ridiculously fucking sexy and hilarious and great, and to tell them they are these things, without being looked at strangely or branded as some kind of novelty. And yeah, for shorthand I say 'stalking', so I can't expect other people not to. But it's not threatening and I'm not insane in that particular way.
I want people to know that. That it's just that I think he's great. That if there's obsession it's part of a wider obsession with beauty and that there's nothing wrong with that. But I have a feeling I've another few months of "And this is my stalker - what's your name again?" ahead of me.
If I have a few months ahead of me at all. I have done some fairly nasty damage to myself tonight. Yeah, yeah, it's melodrama. I'm still coping. This is proof, I suppose. So close to not being able to, though.
And it's hard, it really is, watching two people you love so much being so happy together and being ecstatically happy for them as well as doubling over in pain because you adore them both and because, frankly, your love life - my love life - is in this terrible place at the moment. All I want is something consistent. All I want is something I can rely on. That's the honest truth, though I keep feeling as though all I want is to have the living daylights beaten out of me by someone who doesn't care if they break a bone or two. That's not what I really want. I want some safety and some security. And I don't have it anywhere. This, for want of better terminology at two in the morning on a really bad day, fucking sucks.
What did I say yesterday? NIN aren't goth. Trent Reznor does know, though. He always knows.
"broken bruised forgotten sore
too fucked up to care anymore
poisoned to my rotten core
too fucked up to care anymore
in the back off the side far away is a place where I hide where I
stay tried to say tried to ask I needed to all alone by myself where were you?
how could I ever think it's funny how everything that
swore it wouldn't change is different now just like you
would always say we'll make it through then my head fell apart and where were you?
how could I ever think it's funny how everything you swore would
never change is different now like you said you and me make it
through didn't quite fell apart where the fuck were you?"
So, yeah. This is the most fantastic thing ever, and I shall probably link it again next week to make sure people have seen it.