Guess what? I can't fucking write. I don't fucking care. I care but I can't connect my thoughts or muster the energy to pick words. I cant even type.
I just watched my life flash before my eyes in the film version of the musical Rent.
I remembered the person I was, My cousin said the Maureen character reminds her of me, and it reminded me of me too- only ages ago. I see my self now in the character of Mimi, minus the habit and hot stripper body.
I remembered Aaron, my first love, an unrequited one. I spend a year waiting for him to ask me out, when I would assume he wasn't interested and would start to move on, he would make a point to suck me back in, fawning over him, just as he liked it (he liked the song "would you light my candle")
I remembered James, my former roommate and former friend, as masculine as Angel, who wouldn't come out to me even after ages of being friends and roommates. He turned ice cold and very cruel soon after I told him I knew.
Last night we watched Evita, and I remembered the ambitious, sexy woman I used to be, even if my character was lacking.
As I snarled at Madonna, singing a song that wasn't intended for her character, and another added in for the movie, I was reminded that it wasn't only Oprah that I adopted as a female figure in my adolecence, but also Madonna. I remembered that I saw the sleazy "Susan" character in "Desperately Seeking Susan" and chose to adopt the persona- at 12.
During both movies I remembered that I used to sing. I used to love to move. In spite of it all I lived my life. I used to look forward, to what my life could become. Now I just keep myself going. I spend my time trying to convince myself not to give up.
If anyone could get sick of reading about this all the time, imagine how it feels to feel it all the time.
mood: worn out