a little pain never hurt anyone

I seem to have a pension for writing horrible, sex stories. This isn't all sex, really. I've been indulging in more personal narratives though, and it really seems as though kids can't be expressive without saying "dick" or "fucking" anymore, you know? Someone go invent a new genre of teen angst, please.

I don't expect you to like me. Hell, I don't even like me. Sometimes I'm not the strong person I need to be; other times I am the strong person I mustn't be. I can't handle it. Myself. And all the awful dirty things my mind wants me to think. You, I know this already, couldn't handle me + control me + pet me even if you tried. I am a scorned remainder of the minority, and I am always understood in all the wrong ways. No, you probably don't always get me, but no hard feelings, okay? No one can have me.

I can cradle my pain in the palm of my hand and nurse it off my veins. There are so many things my body aches for, can you blame me? I want. I want. I want.

I need to know some of the things you won't tell me.

Why do I still hate my body, I've tried everything, starving it. burning it. straining it. pleasing it. carving it. tasting it. using it. misusing it. I hated it for so long, so I looked for someone to care-take me; first was a boy. He made me promise to always belong to him => in exchange, he would scream love at me. Daily nights were spent with him on dirty sheets that stung my nostrils with traces of loneliness. Wet with our mutual sweat, they would wrap up against us and enclose us. Scattered used condoms would cling to my every move refusing to relinquish their host. Mostly, though, I would lie still and wait in eternal silence whilst every pore on my disintegrating body would leak in masked satisfaction. Love, love, do you love me too? I wouldn't have an answer for the hungry little boy on top of me. Screaming, he would become a man, and I his girl. Say it again. I can't hear you. Surrender needs only to occur once in battle, but in his war-zone bed, it became a constant/continual ritual.

Love hurt my body. The thrusting, the slamming of his softening parts against my self-consciously shaven body never felt loving. I gave him up, but this was long after the pain. Don't underestimate me: it's not the pain that hurts, it's the numbing hatred one develops from abuse. I mean, a little pain never hurt anyone.

Angry and spiteful, I found another sufferer to love: this time a woman. But she was wrong too; her intensity and her fire were scary to me. Unlike the boy, she was fully grown and knew things. She could touch me in ways the boy previous would have scorned + overlooked. She was bold and angry, angry for me; she and I hoped her rage could carry me along with her, but it couldn't. She took care of me, and in return I would need her; I ached without my sister-lover to take me over. I desired her empowering domination, if I had only known how to feel so strongly.

The passion + desire she offered at my feet were lost on the vast seas of white on my body and in my eyes. Then she brought me drugs, so I could see better, if feeling would never be mine. Now the vacant white was green + red + black + blue. She brought me these things so we could sit on the floor in our socks and naked bodies + explore the galaxy. She would laugh + laugh + tell me secrets to life no one should know; all this beautiful knowledge from speed and nicotine. I would play with her hair, which the acid allowed me to see in its true, celestial light. She was the ocean and the stars. All the bleach + pinks + greens from failed dyes would make up the layers to her sea. I could dive into her and explore there too. Her body was the universe, and each curve and cut was a mountain or a shooting star or traces of a dying star. Her cum created planets and life. She was the answer to everything. She was my meaning of life. Then she died. The colors whirred around her one day, and she was lost in them, she disappeared into the promised land with all those horrible singers she loved so much. Janis would be there, + Jimi.

sooo totally not done. maybe i'll finish; either that or simply delete. as usual, this one sucks.