Extremely Perishable

Just like the Titanic, my virginity and acid-wash jeans.

Truth in Scar Tissue

June 28, 2007
I used to think, if I ever have a kid ... I want a boy.

Did I see it as a chance to tip the scale back? Build a man up instead of watching him get torn down? Is it because I hate myself -- the fact that I'm female? Is it because I always wanted something from men that I could never get? And when they gave it ... it was unwanted ... and wrong.

I know I'm fucked up. I don't know why I've gone in this direction. If someone else had been rejected and abused and had her heart removed by the men in her life, maybe she'd come out of it, salvage herself, regrow what disappeared. But I can't. Most of the time I feel like a fake -- like I'm walking around pretending not to be broken when the truth is I'm so messed up, it's almost the only thing that keeps me alive.

So maybe it is to build a man up ... so that he won't tear a woman down someday. A peace offering to the male god who would hate to see me happy. Wish I could kiss some of them into the grave. And I know that's unhealthy.

Oh, come on. I'm just being dramatic. It's 4 in the morning.

But it's scary how good I am at it, right?