Ivy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ivybgreenflower) wrote2004-03-12 11:53 pm
ivybgreenflower) wrote2004-03-12 11:53 pm
I just realized something...
I have a morbid fascination with death. I always wondered why World War 2 was my favorite...
But I do. I love dead people. I really do. I like to talk to them and for God's sake I talk to them.
I love to think about the morbid details of a person's death... I think I could curl up with my uncle's autopsy report... bearing in mind he died in a tiny car that was hit by a semi... the details I've heard make me cringe, but for some reason I want to know them all, all the dozen or whatever pages. I love to think about dead people and their deaths and the part where they talk about John's murder in painstaking detail... I reread it a lot. I kinda like funerals, I adore graveyards, I like dead people too much. I've been thinking too much about the past and pushing everyone away. My parents try to help me and I slam doors at them and scream and do whatever it takes before my throat gets too sore. I go and lay on my bed and when I can't sleep, I talk to JohnandGeorge, what I always call them, I'm constantly talking to them. Whenever I'm not talking to someone else or working in school, I'm looking up at the ceiling like I expect to see them there, and I'm talking to them. Constantly. It's what gets me through the day. I can't believe I don't feel comfortable telling my friends anything, but that I can look up at the sky and talk to two dead Beatles. It bothers me that I tell them everything like they're some kind of gods or something. I tell them, "Wow, he's hot, what do you think?" and of course they don't answer. It just bothers me that I think of them as parents and my best friends and god-like figures all the time. I don't like to tell my friends anything and it bothers me more than you can imagine when they don't freaking believe me. Jackie, do you believe me? I don't fancy that idiot Gio. If I did, wouldn't I tell you? I trust you enough. But apparently, you don't trust me. Because to not believe me is to think I lied to you. That's the last thing I'd ever do is lie to any of you whom I consider my closest friends. This is why I talk to John Lennon and George Harrison. They, if they're even listening, believe me and trust me and they don't judge me. And I do get "signs" sometimes. A song will pop into my head that makes me feel better. Usually always a John or George song, too. I ask them for help and I get it. I ask them for inspiration and I get it. I don't know if any of my friends could ever listen to my inane babbling or if they even care about what I ate for dinner last night or how I feel about what I see on the news and they especially don't care about The Beatles. I know. So I don't bother. I talk to John and George.
I have a fascination with dead people.
They're much frigging easier to deal with than real people, anyway.
Who am I trying to impress anyway? No more make-up, no more jewelry, no more mismatched shoes, no more anything. It's not like if I show up to school with no foundation Bianca and Stephanie or whoever will gasp and refuse to look at me. Or if I don't brush my hair or whatever. I kinda like how it doesn't matter what I look like as long as I'm clean... it's nice.
-@ 11:50 PM
P.S. <3
But I do. I love dead people. I really do. I like to talk to them and for God's sake I talk to them.
I love to think about the morbid details of a person's death... I think I could curl up with my uncle's autopsy report... bearing in mind he died in a tiny car that was hit by a semi... the details I've heard make me cringe, but for some reason I want to know them all, all the dozen or whatever pages. I love to think about dead people and their deaths and the part where they talk about John's murder in painstaking detail... I reread it a lot. I kinda like funerals, I adore graveyards, I like dead people too much. I've been thinking too much about the past and pushing everyone away. My parents try to help me and I slam doors at them and scream and do whatever it takes before my throat gets too sore. I go and lay on my bed and when I can't sleep, I talk to JohnandGeorge, what I always call them, I'm constantly talking to them. Whenever I'm not talking to someone else or working in school, I'm looking up at the ceiling like I expect to see them there, and I'm talking to them. Constantly. It's what gets me through the day. I can't believe I don't feel comfortable telling my friends anything, but that I can look up at the sky and talk to two dead Beatles. It bothers me that I tell them everything like they're some kind of gods or something. I tell them, "Wow, he's hot, what do you think?" and of course they don't answer. It just bothers me that I think of them as parents and my best friends and god-like figures all the time. I don't like to tell my friends anything and it bothers me more than you can imagine when they don't freaking believe me. Jackie, do you believe me? I don't fancy that idiot Gio. If I did, wouldn't I tell you? I trust you enough. But apparently, you don't trust me. Because to not believe me is to think I lied to you. That's the last thing I'd ever do is lie to any of you whom I consider my closest friends. This is why I talk to John Lennon and George Harrison. They, if they're even listening, believe me and trust me and they don't judge me. And I do get "signs" sometimes. A song will pop into my head that makes me feel better. Usually always a John or George song, too. I ask them for help and I get it. I ask them for inspiration and I get it. I don't know if any of my friends could ever listen to my inane babbling or if they even care about what I ate for dinner last night or how I feel about what I see on the news and they especially don't care about The Beatles. I know. So I don't bother. I talk to John and George.
I have a fascination with dead people.
They're much frigging easier to deal with than real people, anyway.
Who am I trying to impress anyway? No more make-up, no more jewelry, no more mismatched shoes, no more anything. It's not like if I show up to school with no foundation Bianca and Stephanie or whoever will gasp and refuse to look at me. Or if I don't brush my hair or whatever. I kinda like how it doesn't matter what I look like as long as I'm clean... it's nice.
-@ 11:50 PM
P.S. <3
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<3Ivyette
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But what I don't understand is that you seem to not be trusting your friends.
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Ivy
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(Anonymous) 2004-03-13 09:26 am (UTC)(link)(does cross-like hand arrangement that Mrs. Long does to D. C.)
ahahahhaa
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Ivyette
p.s. <3
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I never said that you fancied Gio.
I said it seemed like you didn't hate him.
I believe you, yes.
Trust...I don't know...maybe?
I always have my doubts about people. I guess I'm paranoid? There are things that you haven't told to your friends, and there are things that I haven't told my friends. So I guess we don't trust eachother as much as we'd like to think.
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Gio is a moron.
Being paranoid about the trust thing... it's ok. So am I. I'm so afraid of being judged. And some things... sometimes it's better of you just keep them to yourself, I guess. It's not like you have cancer and you're not telling (I hope)... some secrets are ok.
Ivyette