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2001-03-22 || 04:14 p.m. || one times || one time and one time and one time i feel like most of the things i say are prefaced by one time. one time i overheard my mother talking about me to my father and she said things daughters aren't supposed to hear. one time i went home from school because i just couldn't stop shaking. my teeth chattered uncontrollably and math wasn't very important to me that day. one time i kissed a boy in the parking lot at school. one time i cried over a blackbird with a clubfoot. these one times are annoying? draw everything back to me me me? keep me locked in the past? the past is safe. the past is shuffled and taped back together again, with the bad parts in a cardboard box i keep in the closet. i want to write things on the walls of my apartment. i want to cut things with scissors, things that were never meant to be cut that way. things that give with the clenching of the metal until they can't, until they give up and ooze and mix with rust on the carpet. i want to leave marks, lines, like the paths of ice skates on ice. but one times are also presents i package up and put on my outstretched hand. i want you to have this piece of me, eat it like a slice of cake, so that it is inside you too and you can get the feelings i get when i recite them. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |