<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/6963863203002445876?origin\x3dhttp://gingeryx.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script> <iframe src="http://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID=3054107564476057249&blogName=url.blogspot.com&publishMode=PUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT&navbarType=BLACK&layoutType=CLASSIC&homepageUrl=http%3A%2F%2Furl.blogspot.com%2F&searchRoot=http%3A%2F%2Furl.blogspot.com%2Fsearch" height="30px" width="100%" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" id="navbar-iframe" frameborder="0"></iframe> <div id="space-for-ie"></div>
Welcome to gingeryx.blogspot.com
Saturday, June 02, 2007Y

It hurts again.
Why? I ask. The only reply I receive is bitter laughter.

I don't even have dark humor. I want to stop worrying over the petty, to cease my nauseous streams of self-pity, and to halt any further occurence of entropy. In short, I set the most ambitious goals and then proceed to crash into the most painful depths of disappointment.

I have to pull the plug on my superflous and elevated tone. It's sort of my weakness? To hide behind big words, to turn my emotions into a complex labyrinth and thereby protect my heart? Not working. Nothing can insulate it from unintentional hurt.

I read it because of a deep longing. I read it to reassure myself that the event was an anomaly, a fluke, a lone, insignificant point on a scatter plot. And of course, by trying to prove that to myself, I suceeded in proving to myself that I keep no promises; and how bad I am at justifying an act of impatience. Maybe I really am programmed that way? Maybe I'm not. Keep this up and we'll find out soon. Very soon.

I can assure any curious reader that my skin is thinner than paper-thin dried fish strips billowing in the cool air conditioning.
And that my tone will probably remain this blown up, over the top, and unlady-like.

Labels:


ends at 12:57 PM