Diary of a Human Read Online Free PDF Page A

bystander and still want the criminal.  I am better than her, but am I better without her .
    The sun is shining today but I hide away in my retreat.  My stomach cries for nourishment, but I will deny it any pleasurable company until my heart ceases to cry.  The one thing I can control – holy anorexia.  Hello ribs, my dear battle armor…where have you been hiding?  Underneath warm, nurturing rolls of flesh, now to be exposed as jutting tissue and lanky limbs.  It will stop someday.  This too shall pass. 
    I am better than her. 
    I will be better without her. 
    I will be brilliant without her. 
    As soon as I get over her.
    3.6//love hangover
     
    I woke up this morning with a hangover…from love.  They didn’t know I had seen her; they wouldn’t be able to handle the truth.  Standing on a cold, lighted sidewalk, staring up at the night sky to my favorite constellation forming the shape of one woman.  Waiting lifetimes to hear her voice, to hear those words and feel her body rushing towards mine to melt in an embrace. 
    I am an addict.  I’m addicted to the feeling of being in love, of feeling loved.  But I’m addicted to Feeling as well.  I know I should keep my distance, to stay away from this darkness that keeps me from recovery.  But I only feel with her. 
    She is my razor blade that cuts so easily through this mortal flesh; she is the dull ache in my belly from not eating for weeks. She is salty tears that stain my sullen cheeks; she is the raw flesh of knuckles that has danced with concrete walls.  She is the cigarette ember that burns my skin, she is drowning in this bathtub of emptiness. 
    I drift through this day, moment to moment void of connection, void of solace.  I sleep, but I do not find rest.  Tangled, sweaty sheets that wrap around waning limbs.  I know I am slipping away.  It’s not just this body, but my essence as well.  Who am I and What am I becoming.  I am a shell of my former self, defined by the moments in which the Day decides to shine upon me. 
    I am the Moon. 
    And I have vanquished the Sun, but now all the planets have collided against me. 
     
     
    3.7//mutilated flower
     
    She loves me.  She loves me Not.  I love her and she loves her and she loves me.  And I will never escape this triangle of tangled hearts if I do not let go of my past and a shadowed future -- a future that cannot exist because life is not meant to be spent wearing blinders or never tasting the ripeness of a forbidden fruit.  And I will not be second best. 
    I stare at this tiny piece of blue plastic and will it to ring.  I pace through the names an d figures calculated out for me and pause. 
    I always pause. 
    But I cannot give in.  Must stand strong.  I owe it to a delectable, delicious, delicate piece of fruit.
    But more importantly, I owe it to myself.
     
     
    3.7//happiness is fleeting
     
    What one can possess on a single day can be so easily replaced by something else the next.  I had lain in bed, cloaked with happiness and positive en ergies, sheltered from all except the sunshine streaming in through billowing curtain dressings. 
                  The next morning I lay in bed, smothered with angst and confusion, the sun no longer present, my heart and mind cast in shadow. 
    A sunny, irresistible accent.  A stale, monotone rasp. 
    A morning filled with two minute naps, and the scent of fresh soap. 
    A night filled with men who possess sharp knives and exploding skies. 
    Bodies of water in which to toss sticks and stones, holding hot hands on a humid afternoon, ignoring the stares of those much older than ourselves, because we are the wiser. 
    I am wiser than that.  I am better than that.  Experienced enough to know not to trust my heart to this Devil. 
    Again.  and Again. 
    There is no trust with an ice cream connoisseur.  Because I am only vanilla ice cream.  And I need to be mint chocolate chip.  And I owe it to myself to be chocolate chip