Newsflash

I'm going to let it all spiral out, right here, right now. Hell, I know you don't give a shit, but here's a newsflash for your newsflash- I don't give a shit about you not giving a shit. You'll either listen or you won't, but hear me out. I ain't asking you to understand, mostly 'cause I don't understand myself. The only demands I'm going to make require that you let your ears earn their keep. So here goes - ready that glazed look for your eyes, 'cause you and I and everybody who ever took note of our existence knows that you're not even gonna try.

I hate this whole damned setup, got it? When we first met, I had you at elbow's length, jostling my life with your every nervous fidget. But now I want you gone, get it? Disappear! I'm trying to move forward, and, despite your claims that you want the same, you've wrapped your arms 'bout my shins and you're holdin' me back. I didn't think you were an invertebrate before, but you're showin' evidence to the contrary.

Yeah, I'm a little upset about this whole thing. I think it has somethin' to do with being alone all day. I pass my people in the hallways, but they're all wrapped up in each other. They've got no eyesight left for me, let alone a wave and a friendly smile. Lookin' for love, I've resorted to chasin' a gent with no interest in me and being chased by a girl I've got no interest in. My latest phrase mirrors a sorry state of affairs. I've been livin' life through my inactive buddy list! There's only so much companionship a girl can glean from a computer screen.

Am I going to change myself so I can get out of my empty house on a Friday night? I'm no longer positive of the answer to that question, and that scares me intimately. I'm not a flashy sort, not on the surface, and everyone knows that it's the shiny pieces that grab a body's attention. In a store full of shoes, I'm the black stilleto-heeled sneaker pumps. Nobody says shit about me except to dismiss me with an arched eyebrow and a sneer. You should know. You do it on a daily basis.

I'm gettin' more and more upset, and my southern accent grows with emotion. I can't always be elegant and eloquent - I've gotta show my roots SOME time. Damned if that time ain't now. Just note that I'm bloodstained at my base, and I'm not quite sure who that discoloration once belonged to.

You've got scars from what you've been through. Well, yeah, so does everybody. You ain't as special as you'd like to think. Ain't as special as I'd like to think either. Just another self-centered sonuvabitch mothered by a perfectly decent lady that you'll always resent the hell out of, and that's the unfortunate fact of it.

I'm waxing on emotions that make you break out, though the words of them are goin' in one ear and dancing out the same, burned by the barrier of your closed mind. You're gonna see things painted in your favorite color, as though the rest of the spectrum is an inconsequential detail. You're gonna end up missing out on a lot of beautiful artwork that way.

I'm tired, exhausted by writing for the sake of writing. Emotions aren't siphoning off by way of pen anymore, just staying inside and poisoning my being. They're bad blood. Those old time doctors had some idea of what they were doing - they were just cutting the wrong vein with the wrong kind of lancet. Thing is, I only know that they were wrong, not what they coulda done to make it right. I'm dying for want of relief from these sensations, these pressures, and you can take that literally if you'd like. Entropy is a proven fact.

I am constantly surprised by how many degrees you can turn a phrase. It's more than three hundred and sixty, to be sure. Maybe it goes into theoretical numbers, just 'cause there's so many words and so many emotions that could be behind them. That's the thing (read: problem) with communication.

There's crosses on the walls of public school classrooms, but we're not allowed to talk gay sex in sex education, 'cause of separation of church and state. That's more than crap - that's bullshit. If we're in for the pound, how does that NOT include the pence? Not that we're in England or anything. Just that I'm not willing to corrupt a perfectly good, though trite, phrase to such an extent. Laugh if you'd like - there's nothing I could do to stop you.

I can feel your dismissal of what I'm saying like it's a bass drum you're pounding in my ear, pulling my pulse to match its irregular rhythm. It's gonna kill me one of these days, and you know it. Or maybe you don't. I've learned never to underestimate the extent of human ignorance. Sometimes that undesirable river burbles on for hundreds of miles before hitting nowhere and drying out. Of course, that's presuming it doesn't pool into a lake. I ain't saying what I think yours does - that could be considered slander.

It's never been said that I have an attitude problem, but I've got a feelin' that's about to change. I'm tired of being a wallflower, and I'm more than ready to be the rose in the complementary vase. I'm sick of hiding myself to be the good girl. I've got a drama queen inside my soul, and she's ready to rule - not just me, but my world. I have no doubt that she could do it.

Nobody knows who I really am. Yeah, I'm aware that I'm stealing phrases right out of the mouth of your stereotypical teenage angst-bot. "Nobody understands me!" Well, how can I expect them to when I don't know what it is I want them to understand? "Me" is too broad a term and "who I am" too wide a phrase.

Did you even realize that I cry myself to sleep most nights? No, I didn't think so. I try and compensate for it with cosmetics - isn't that why they call the stuff 'make up'? Anyways, I try and be pretty and perfect with the substances spread in front of my vanity mirror, 'cause you and I both know I'm anything but. The moisture on my pillow case attests to that little truth every morning.

I'm terrified that maybe I missed my opportunity for love. I know I didn't have that with you, so don't you even start with your lovesick puppy dog eyes, beggin' to be kicked. No, I'm talking about someone else. I doubt I'll ever see him again, and the same goes for forgetting him. I saw him through a child's eyes, so that's how I remember him, so it's impossible to know whether it was infatuation or something more. All I know is no one's come close since.

And that brings me back to what I meant to tell you. I hate this whole damned setup. You were a mistake, and I need you to realize that. You can shake that glaze off your face, 'cause I'm done talkin' at you. And that's the newsflash to your newsflash - we're done.