Parallels

I had a strange, disturbing dream last night in which I broke a glass that shattered everywhere and my sister consoled me as I swept the glass shards off the kitchen floor. In reality, however, it was a glass full of ice that I spilled right onto his crotch and then the other one became my saviour later in the night as I stood immobilized, clamped up. I can't believe that people like that exist in the world. All I feel is gratitude for the persistent support I've received in face of the guarded temperament I've offered them.

And the night ended with a lengthly conversation avec l'un qui me désire mais je ne peux pas dire que j'ai les mêmes sentiments envers lui. And though I entertain the possibility sometimes like I did last night encore une fois, deep down in my heart, I think I know que jamais ne ça se passerait. How can I compromise now quand j'ai décidé de prendre la rue difficile pour m'apercevoir de ma raîson d'être.

If...

If the Conservatives win Monday, I might as well move to the States because it'll be exactly the same thing...

Reminiscing

I'm wearing a parrot green today and I remember the days of the neatly partitioned hair and the night of the angel wings, now hung neatlhy in a plastic cover in my closet. I remember the small townhouse and the humid basement with wallpaper showing a view of earth from space. There was Julie with whom I compared my complexion and then there was Julie with whom I shared my first glass of white wine that Tara brought us. She was a good hostess though she didn't have to be and I shamelessly sent her my phone number and she actually called and left me a message. I remember being drawn to the little alternative scene in which my artistic side thrived. Then came the gay community which eclipsed everything else for what seems like forever. I retracted to my roots, I rejected what didn't make sense but it's still a source of turmoil to me. I was self-conscious and carefree at the same time. I took on the insecurities of others. I remember Barbie Girl and I sat in a corner and feigned invisibility. I cast aside his interest and he moved on; I stayed in my corner. I was distressed at the sight of the one who had cut her finger and hurled at me; I retracted. Then there was the night I relived the scariest night of my life and I was surprised to discover that although I was no longer a child, I still felt the fears I did as a child. I remember numbness and the inability to feel due to the sense of lost innocence, a childhood stolen. I remember the confrontation and I remember pushing out anyone who tried to penetrate that shell. Gifty was the first one I confided in and she helped me through but now we've fallen out of touch. I'm not sure why I changed but I think that the person I used to be matches a lot more with my personality.

In the Apple, I found meaning...

Oh mon dieu, I never learn... but then, how can you not indulge when you're in the Big Apple, a city of dripping of excess that seems so natural. Solo trips always give you a much better insight into the kinds of things you enjoy and while I did teeter on the edge of alcohol poisoning, the important thing is that I came out with an important realization. Maybe it's me getting old or perhaps it's my liver that can't take it no more but I can't go on these binge drinking, hedonistic bouts of mine. But no, I think I exaggerate... it really wasn't so bad. New Year's Resolution: for the love of the god, go on vacation to someplace other than New York!!