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take to the sky. current song: take to the sky (russia) by tori amos. this house is like russia with eyes cold and grey you got me moving in a circle i dyed my hair red today i just want a little passion to hold me in the dark i know i've got some magic buried deep in my heart yeah but my priest says you ain't saving no souls my father says you ain't making any money my doctor says you just took it to the limit and here i stand with this sword in my hand you can say it one more time what you don't like let me hear it one more time then have a seat while i take to the sky my heart is like the ocean it gets in the way so close to touching freedom then i hear the guards call my name but my priest says you ain't saving no souls my father says you ain't making any money my doctor says you just took it to the limit and here i stand with this sword in my hand you can say it one more time what you don't like let me hear it one more time then have a seat while i take to the sky (there she goes again) if you don't like me just a little well (wearing those purple panties) why do you hang around (there she goes again) if you don't like me just a little (wearing her heart) why do you (there she goes again) take it take it take it this house is like russia you can say it one more time you can say it one more time you can say it one more time what you don't like let me hear it one more time then have a seat while i take to the sky i hate the woman that lives next door, with the kind of hatered that makes you grind your teeth. she spends the majority of the day, shrieking at the top of her lungs, in a shrill fever pitch one would imagine harpies sounded like. and, to make matters worse, she has nothing to scream about day in and day out. why is this towel on the floor? oh my god you put your coat in the chair! you're going to eat this, i swear to god, now open your mouth! and so on, and so forth, ad nauseum. i feel so much terrible pity for her small child, he must be about five at this point. she once wrote me a letter, and taped it to my door, about how her son is autistic and she is bi-polar and life is so hard... and i know, that one day, this child will look down upon his sad, old, angry mother, and have no feeling for her, and he will tell her not to wait up for he is not coming home, much like i did. and she will try everything - anything - to get a rise out of him, to make him feel something, to make her voice not echo the empty space that has become his heart for her, much like mine did. and with a trembling hand he will gather his things, hold his head up, and close the door firmly behind him, just like i did, what seems like so long ago. that seems as if it were eons ago. it was only eight years ago. and he will then, as i do now, feel no pity for the withered hull he left behind; though she may have given birth to him, he will not have life until he is free of her. but, in the mean time, i sit in my computer chair daydreaming about throttling her within an inch of her life, or calling the police and saying she's beating him (though, technically, she is abusing him), or at least screaming vulgar things... "shut your filthy whore mouth you stupid cow" is most often the phrase that comes to mind. it's 12:40, and it seems as though things are calming down next door, which means she has one more fight about absolutely nothing left in her before she finally wears herself out and goes to bed at 1:30ish. it's sad when someone is so predictable that you can almost count down their actions to the minute. i'm going to put my headphones on and forget about her for a while. i can't get all riled up and angry tonight, as i have to get up in the morning. again. i'm really quite tired of having a morning schedule, but with therapy and work and the laundry list of other things i have to do, such is life. i guess i'm just worn out... the last month has been more frantic and full than any month i've ever experienced. you know, what with my grandfather fucking shooting himself in the head, my father finding him and going partly insane, my mother continuing to be insane and cheating on my father with his best friend's son (which he doesn't know about yet, but i'm sure he will), my boss' family being insane and his brother trying to kill himself this weekend, work piling up because i was gone for the funeral and my family's insanity, my back fucking killing me, my car dying, my frantic scramble to get a new car, therapy, jason getting hurt at work, jason's family drama, the exceedingly tiny social life i have left, trying to afford food, trying to find time to sleep, and so on and so forth ad nauseum. i don't think i've had an actual day off where i didn't have to do anything in weeks. in fact, tomorrow, i have to get up early, get jason off to light duty, go to therapy, go to work after therapy, go to play psychiatrist after work with my mother, and then god knows what else will pop up after that. i'm not whining. i'm really not. because i'm still here, with this sword in my hand, determined to go on, determined to make it...make it somewhere, anywhere, other than here. and soon, as soon as i can, i'll be gone; away from this apartment with the paper thin walls and the cunt next door, away from the burdens of things i shouldn't know about my mother, away from the burdens of others' lives. at least i've learned how to take care of myself better, because if i hadn't, i'd have lost it by now. and now, the pills are kicking in, and i can have the sweet release of sleep. for now. it won't last long enough. ~*~ immediate yesterday. ~*~ divination. ~*~ get your own guestbook here |
