Bent Words

Bent Words

June 19, 2006

I think I'm paranoid.

That fact that I think I'm paranoid is probably pure paranoia, but that only strengthens my claim.

One night he mentioned something about how I always get up so early so I can have some 'me time.' He said it like it wasn't good. But I have to get up a couple hours before I go to work -- I have to relax and wake up and, most importantly, allow my tummy to 'settle.' That's what I call it; settling. I'm shy.

Today he asked me what is so important that resides within my book bag that I must insist on taking it everywhere with me. I suddenly felt guilty. I didn't know how to respond. I was, like, 'what?' I carry things in it -- soda, water, a book, my hair brush, paper and pens, a dish rag (don't know how that got in there), etc... What's the big deal? It's my back pack and my back, I can do what I want with them.


He asks me why I ask him if he loves me. He asks me why I worry when I ask him if he loves me. I say it light heartedly enough and I recall him having asked me the same question before.

And, I thought the answer to this question was obvious -- because I want to hear him say yes.

"Yes! I adore you! I love you! I want sweet kisses day and night!"

How about some enthusiasm here?

He says I live on my computer. That's true. But so what? It's my computer, right? I like to write; when I actually have the opportunity. I like people knowing about my irrational fear of ticks and I like people reading about my attempts at cooking.

I also happen to like Captain and Coke, cigarettes and Pilot Precise Roller Ball pens. I feel guilty about these things, too.

I guess I'm just paranoid that I'm not doing anything right.

The guileless girl with honest intentions
She sets smiles upon shoulders, and
Laughter on hips
Waiting for dreams
And her name on their lips

Have I lost my touch? Am I not doing enough or am I doing too much?

I know I've made mistakes but these mistakes do not encompass the sole definition of me. There is more -- there is some great stuff sitting right here.

I think...

Written at 9:29 p.m.