Criminal

September 16, 2012

I’ve been a bad bad girl 
I’ve been careless with a delicate man 
And it’s a sad sad world 
When a girl will break a boy 
Just because she can

Don’t you tell me to deny it
I’ve done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins
I’ve come to you ’cause I need
Guidance to be true
And I just don’t know where I can begin

What I need is a good defense
‘Cause I’m feelin’ like a criminal
And I need to redeemed
To the one I’ve sinned against
Because he’s all I ever knew of love~ Fiona Apple

********

All I can think of to describe this is the lyrics to the song “Criminal” by Fiona Apple. I swear that woman writes out my life story. I’m sure a lot of you “sullen” girls know what I mean.

There’s this Canadian guy; I’ll call him Eg. I’ve known him in the virtual world since 2007. I mean, we’ve been online buddies. We used to chat a lot on MSN and on Skype. Well, Eg (not to be pronounced as egg!) just sent me a text that shook me up a little, no A LOT. First, I need to back track…

I don’t know if I should write about this in an open post since you guys (you know who you are) already know that I don’t like to share too much about others around or close to me for their sake.

I kind of sort of always knew though. I knew he was fond of me. See the thing is, he lives in Canada! AND, I had met Monkey Man a year before. As you might know, Monkey Man and I, well, we revolved around each other in a cataclysmic storm. Monkey Man would throw it in my face: how much I hurt him, how much I broke his heart, how I don’t allow people to love me, how I was cold. He did this a lot in a passive aggressive ways, and it hurt me. This was especially the case in the years 2009-2010.

Anyway, I digress.

Eg seemed to back off when I talked about marrying Monkey Man. And well, we hadn’t talked much in the last year or so. Except, ever since I found out Big Drummer Bear (don’t you just love these names) is married, I sort of kind of… Ok, I went to Eg for… I don’t know. I just started talking to Eg. And he started calling me. He paid long distance just to call me! Of course, things got sexual, as sexual as they can be long-distance.

Today, I got this text message from him:

“I know we have an innocent fun thing going on and I appreciate more than you know… but it’s starting to mean more to me than it probably is to you, which is find because you lost someone close. You know what I’m getting at right? I want to say it, and I want to hear it back, not if it’s gonna cause you pain.”

To which I replied:

“I know what you’re getting at, i think…”

****

I know, not the best answer. But I had no idea what else to say. What was I supposed to say? Then he came at me with this:

Eg: Sorry, i’ll take it back if you like. I guess I was just in a romantic mood… I’m ok if you want to forget about it… thought not fully.

Me: Don’t be sorry. 🙂 It is sweet. Don’t ever take back anything kind. You know I’ve always been fond of you… I’m just really fucked up. And yeah, his loss still affects me every day.

Eg: Sorry.

Me: Don’t be. But thanks… The fucker practically killed himself [deleted]. Sorry, you probably didn’t want to know that. But it causes a lot of anger and sadness and too many mixed feelings. By the way what’d you mean you said you’d had a few rough days. You don’t have to tell me. Just wondering.

Eg: hmm, so should we say goodbye?

Me: No! Unless you want to.

Eg: [something about his brother]

Me: [deleted]

Eg: No we can keep having fun… its nice just needed to say, even though you don’t wanna hear it. I think I’m in love with you.

Me: Jezus. im not sure what to say to that. You just hit my chest right now. I don’t wanna hurt you.

Give me a minute or two. 😉

Eg: I wasn’t expecting a response. We’ll keep having fun on the phone and that will be it.

********

I don’t know what to do. What the hell is wrong with me? Ok. I know, nothing’s wrong with me. bleh, blah. I still don’t know what to do. I’m an asshole aren’t I? But I didn’t mean to, you know? I don’t intend for these things to happen, though I see a pattern forming. I enchant and then I run off. Fear of abandonment much? Unsure sense of self? I wonder if I’ll keep sabotaging myself. I’m not saying this particular situation is sabotage, but most of the time it is.

I really do feel like a criminal right now. 😦 My chest feels tight and I want to cry. I wish I had a close girlfriend to consult with about this… Well, I guess I do. Maybe even more than a few. There’s Eloise. I just prefer to keep to myself for a while and think. Then again, I tend to overthink things.

And of course, I have my MFFs here on WordPress…

I still want to bang my head again the desk.

****

Today is my pop’s birthday. Maybe I should just focus on that now.

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I asked November to be kind
because it’s always been so vicious.

And for the first time,
for the very first time
in three long years,
it was.

It embraced me and
I embraced back, embraced
its orange falls,
crisp curls,
crackling thunder.

Then December rolled in with
it’s contemplating chilled breath,
like an angry drunk,
smacking me around,
lying me down.

January inebriated me
with its Atlantic breeze.
But I showed no
remonstrance.

February just hit my face
harder–paralyzing it–
again and again–then,
it cracked my porcelain
bone. And I crashed
once more.

I laughed at her though,
laughed and threw my finger up!

Then, I asked, I
crawled, I begged
April,
“Will you be kind to me
dear April?”
because March had been
so cruel, because
I didn’t know my own
will, my own strength–
two poets dead,
one beside a bed we’d
shared. He had been
the one I loved.
The other, I admired.
(how funny for a poet to
be dead)

One had lost control too many
months before; that one was
a mystery.
The other, a man of his people,
faced death a year ago–death
came in the shape of an
idiot’s pistol.

April was warmer;
she held my head up,
gave me water, refilled me,
showered me as I drained. She
carried me by her teeth like
a bitch carrying her pup
to safety.
But I was a disoriented pup,
loose skin still
too stretched
to move.

And May.
May,
what did she say?
I haven’t heard.
I’ve gone deaf.
What should I ask of
you my May, when I’ve
lost nearly all sense?

As I search franticly
for more questions to
collect, I cannot ask her
to be kind to me,
no, not like April.
How could I,
when I haven’t been
so to myself?

Will June heal me
as it’s done countless
times before?

What else, what more
can I ask these months?
I wonder.

*****************************************************************************************************

Facundo Cabral was a singer/songwriter/poet and activist from Argentina. One of my favorite folk singers. He was shot last year. Not long before that, he’d done a free concert for peace in Colombia.

And well, the other “poet”, Monkey Man L. … if you’ve read much of my blog, you know about that one. I think it’s really helped the grieving process to write about him on here, so please forgive me in advance if I don’t shut up about L.

********

This is quite possibly one of the most beautiful songs ever written. It’s not his original but his rendition of it is my favorite. It’s called, “Thanks to Life” or “Thanks Be to Life”. Here’s a translation of the lyrics: http://www.williammorin.com/graciasalavida.html

Oooh look. An illustrated one, LIVE version duet with some other singy dude named Edwardo Soto, oh, and a PIANO! A PIANO!

And this is one of his many sarcastic poems about humanity’s idiocies and follies. “Pendejos” means something akin to “dumb asses” or “idiots” and so on and so forth.