There’s A Traitor Here Beneath My Breast (If My Heart Could Beat, It Would Break My Chest)


I can’t find myself in her eyes.

So, in advance, after a few hours of mulling, I’ve decided I need to disappear for a little while. My phone is still on, for those special enough to have access to it. It’s not that I’m avoiding, it’s that I free up time in my day each day to stay in contact, to keep others informed, and to just generally make myself available to others. I’m going to just stay joined in the groups of actual, physical, immediate people I’m around and forget the effort it takes for a little while. I’m tired. I’m very tired. I’m tired of a lot of things. I’m tired of me. There is just too much going on in my life, in the lives of those around me, too much coming. Being an adult is all complicated. I need Occham’s Razor and a whole lot of logical thinking on my side. I’ve grown weary of trying to figure everything out. I need to get away and just be for awhile. I’m not proposing being like everyone else, just someone else. Someone who isn’t the social dustpan of the group, or the joist that holds shit together, or even the potstirrer who keeps things going. Who knows what that means?
 
One good vodka in and I’m incredibly motivated (everyone went to Kenn’s for dinner, and we all decided to drink a little), filled with contemplation over that great escape my mind wanders to sometimes. I know that road and the wonder of just getting onto it and refusing to turn around is just an expression of my curiousity over what the world could be to me. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have these pesky emotional ties to others. I would go and find my place without having to bear the heartache. Today I’m putting my heart into a bottle and sending it out to sea. There’s nobody out there. I pray it lands softly, somewhere warm, and with purpose.
 
Kassi the wallflower. Life is much kinder to me when I simply observe it. I’m not feeling particularly social. This too, shall pass. Tomorrow is another day, and no matter what happens, I’ll survive. (I mean… of course I will).
 
I’ve been worried about the state of things in my life, and worried about going numb. Numb sounds really great. I simply feel too much, and without the right to it. This is about the time I immerse myself in projects, become a bit antisocial, pretty much drop off of the grid and come back out with something brilliant that only someone with no life and too much time could come up with. I think I may go for a jog, especially since I think for the first time in my life that I may be the kind of person who should become their career (and no, I don’t mean A&W). We trek through life trying to find a substancial passion, and do I even have one? I bring a pencil to a page and images come out of it, but do the images make a difference? I bring words out of my head and into existence, but do they change anything? I feel I am a creator who does not truly create. I give the illusion of creation but don’t at all.
 
I know I care too much. Sometimes I walk through days unable to understand how people make affairs that I’m emotionally consumed in seem so absolutely vapid. In that inability to comprehend, part of me is almost envious. Be the artist. Be the sexy artist who paints nude men half her age. Be that sour woman whose talent has been her only passion. I don’t understand the mechanics of my emotional well either, people. Don’t ask. My soul has a hole in it.
 
If this world doesn’t eat me alive, it’s going to be my ultimate undoing anyhow. I am my own worst enemy. I have this unfailingly accurate intuition; I feel things coming, and as hard as I try, I’m helpless to stop them. All this does is enable me to feel whatever feeling I’m going to have for longer, and toil in doubt. Am I beautiful? Am I good and wonderful? Am I talented and capable? Am I deserving, and what of? And when you say these things to me, make proclaimations to me of who I am, what is it you’re actually telling me? How are they relevant? Can you take a vacation from life? Is that an option? I know how I feel about myself, and I have many positive, wonderful feelings about me. I can’t cure my own solitude. I live at the end of the hall in a Stanley Kubrick film and the rest of the world is on the other end, peering down the expanse at me, wondering if the distance goes on forever.
 
Ultimately, I’m just extremely disappointed in myself. I am a stupid, foolish woman. I made myself a serious promise about certain things that I broke somewhere along the way without realizing it, and all it has done is cause me grief. Who the hell even knows what’s right?
 
 
Potential
New, fresh, untainted by misunderstanding
I give you my true, unrelenting honesty
I give that inch so you know to come the mile
I think of you and instantly I smile.
When you held even my little finger
I wanted you to hold my hand
For wanting you was completely unplanned.
How do does one ‘un-fall’ after it’s too late?
I don’t know that you even feel the same.
I think you might,
but you never say
Like you want to chase then pull away
to know you’ve got me
I hold back
I wait, I linger, I want, I ache, I yearn
for that day.
Kassondra Staschuk © April 22, 2008
 
I sent a secret prayer up above and put my heart away so that you could be free.
♥Kдssi
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~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 06/18/2008.

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