You speak to me in riddles, you speak to me in rhymes

This first appeared in F.U.C.K. as volume 0331

One thing I hate about my sleeping habits is that I am up, constantly. My body clock is so whacked that half the time, I am up all hours of the night and sleep very little. Some how or another it doesn’t seem to alter my cheery disposition though.

But the one thing I like about this ‘downtime’ is that I feel alone, literally, while the world sleeps. Living on the west coast now, watching the clock tick hours, and knowing that the majority of the US is fast asleep, slumbered in their beds snug as a bug in a rug. It is almost a powerful feeling, as if it’s just me against the world, and that empowers me a bit.

When I get like this, I get very melancholy. I like reading some of my old writings that are still private (ie not on-line), reading through email that I sent out or received from ex-lovers. Listening to music that sets the mood (like Sarah McLachlan). My mind starts shutting down and I notice how that it is during this time that I can actually function at a slightly different rate than before.

During the day, my mind is running at such a speed that I need “to break” in order to get relief. I need to sit back and think about things, regardless of the relevancy of them, so that I can relax and go “yes, I am alive after all”.

Music helps set the mood because I can then break down and ‘feel’ something. All too often I have been called a ‘heartless bitch” because I can be quit mean or cold. And I know that I am quit guilty of it, and yet I still do it anyways. Often I wonder why I still behave that way. Sometimes, being the masochist that I am, I put myself through situations over and over again, in my mind, analyzing why I react the way I do, wondering why I make compensations for some people while I am merciless on others. Wondering why I do the things I do. Folding, extracting, folding again.

There is something magical about the night. Something almost erotic in the way the sky glows with stars, the world is shutting down, the air if I stand outside feels almost silky against my skin, regardless of the temperature. It feels almost forbidden, and in many ways, I like it like that. It makes it more “mine”. Makes me feel more “alone” and perhaps a bit more elitist.

This is such the perfect time for so many things. Making love. Dreaming. Writing. Thinking. Staring off into the stars wondering about all the million and one possibilities that could occur in your lifetime. In my lifetime.

This is my time. This is my world. This is my domain. This is where I can rule and where I will survive. This is where I can be most free, to shed all the masks and become more real to not only myself but to those I choose to share it with me.

This is where I dream. To shape and to discover what is going on, to see if what I am doing, regardless of the situation, is right for me. To think of the future, to mourn the past. To live in the moment. To love unconditionally, to feel loved and to be loved. To feel desired. To desire.

Because regardless of when its said and done:
I won’t be denied.

by simunye
5-20-97
2:25 am PST