Infect Me

"Tempt me again and I will forget the truth

Backing your decision

Was something I neglected to do

Even for you

If you feel rage…To strike me with revenge

I will be standing right here

Waiting without fear

For you"

Nina says...

I am in beautiful amounts of pain. God, I love a good concert.

I am happiest when I am lost in a sea of people. At the head of the crowd with my hands in the air, all I feel is a strong rhythmic pulse. The beat of the music and the sway of the crowd. We are all out of our minds, entirely consumed by this intense moment. A moment that drags on for hours. I dance as if nothing but the music matters. It doesn't even occur to me that I may look ridiculous or that by the end of the night I will ache. My body just moves as my mind races. There is no past, there is no future. Just an electric present. The rock is flowing through my veins. My pupils dialate, I start to sweat, and the real world just disappears.

It is the best drug in the world.


Sparky Spitfire says...

What a night of accomplishment. Touch the guitarist...check. Grope the lead singer...check!!! Eye-fuck the shit out of the drummer and get him to silently tell me he loves me by the end of the night...oh that's a big fucking check! I wonder what Rogerio would think if he knew the beautiful girl with the big blue eyes he was blowing kisses to all night was actually in a wheelchair. The thought of his shock tickles me in funny places. I would do fabulous things to him.

On a side note, it's quite fascinating how the kids are dealing drugs these days. I've never been a fan of drugs, but for whatever reason, I can still find them in almost any situation. Who would ever suspect the blonde 16-year-old girl with an absolutely radiant smile was a dealer? And who would suspect that her plastic braclets actually have Extasy pills on them? And who would suspect that her warm, lovey, raver embrace of another girl, with their hands locked, is how she passes the bracelet from her wrist to the girls? I would never have suspected it if I hadn't seen it.

Kids. They are so fucking innovative.

She Craves Lemon Pie I

The Narrator says...

With a head full of memories and a heart on the verge of devastation, he returns to her. He has grown so much in the time that has passed. He has learned lessons he always claimed he already knew. Including what it is like to be the one who gets left behind. No longer the heartbreaker that nearly destroyed a young girl, but a simple, broken man searching for something true to cling to. He remembers the innocence they corrupted together, the stupid promises they made, and a time when things in his world made sense. Because she made sense. She and him have always made sense. Not the kind of sense that is apparent to the rest of the world. But the quiet kind of sense that two people only make when they are together, and only between one another.

He comes this time bearing no promises for the future. He doesn't promise her the world, nor Heaven and Hell, nor any sort out of this world, cosmic gift that a boy promises a girl only when he realizes he has nothing of any real value to offer her. Instead, he just simply returns. The pieces of his heart falling from his hands like sand. He knows she cannot, but more importantly that she will not, fix it. But when he is near her he has a clarity which allows him to piece things back together again. And he knows that she will never truly turn him away. Because no matter how often neither one of them ever say it, they love each other. And they always will. It is a different sort of love. One that consists of the strongest friendship. Simply, they know each other better than they know themselves. And together they feel whole.

She has thought about this day, wondering if she would ever see it. She has missed him, more than he could ever possibly know. And she knows without a shadow of a doubt now that he has missed her. He doesn't need to say it. And he won't. (Neither will she.) The beauty of them is they never need to. They just know.

Will she risk it all for him again? Not for a future or a "love" she knows they will never share. It will be for him...just him. For the pure moments they experience in a wonderful now. Will she yet again battle it out with him, her most worthy opponent? The one who brings out her beautiful conflict and fiery compulsion. The one who challenges every fiber within her and forces her to evolve in order to survive the turbulence. Will she abandon the wall she has built up so intently for so long (she knows in his presence it is absolutely useless) for the only one who has ever broken her heart?

To be continued...

Oh Herro?

Amanda says...

Let's forget about love for a moment. I've never been much good at it. Sex, on the other hand... well let's just say I have a better understanding of that.

Back in the day, when I was an actual college student, I took a a psychology class called Deviant Behavior. It was one of my favorite classes and I did exceptionally well in it. Go figure. I remember learning about and being fascinated by sexual deviance. The broadest definition for sexual deviance is simply any sexual act that deviates from the social norm. This leaves room for much interpretation, based on things like culture, religion, age, etc. I learned that sexual behaviors considered deviant within the United States could be things as extreme as peodophilia, to something as miniscule as engaging in sexual activities with any article of clothing on. I guess fucking with socks on is considered kinky by the ones calling the societal shots.

I have been doing some extensive thinking about my past, specifically the men I have been involved with throughout my life. It is no secret that my past contains a colorful array of experiences, and an even more colorful collection of men. My "love" life has been anything but boring.

Why am I always attracting the special kids, the characters, and sometimes, the creeps? I have never experienced anything even remotely close to "boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, boy and girl live happily ever after." It's always more like "boy meets girl, boy is fascinated by girl, boy stalks girl, boy lusts after girls, boy is terrified of girl, boy never committs but never moves on from girl, boy and girl live confused and unhappily ever after." With various twists and turns in between. For Christ's sake, I even have a sexual reputation that preceeds me at times! Why? Seriously...why?

This line of inquistive thought led to some very intense introspection, which thereby led to a fascinating epiphony: Any man ever attracted to me will be considered a sexual deviant. They must be. There is nothing about me that falls within the relm of societal norms, but more specifically, I cannot possibly fall within sexual societal norms. It is not possible.

I am not tall. I am not blonde. I am not big breasted. I am not tan. I am not sweet. But more importantly, and even more apparent... I will never entrance a man with the movement of my hips as I walk across a room. I will never amaze him with my suggestive flexibility. I will never be a master of the Karma Sutra. I will never run off into the sunset.

I am a cripple. Therefore, I am a deviant. Furthermore, anyone attracted to me is a sexual deviant.

Even more fascinating than this realization is the conclusion I have reached. I do not feel discouraged. I do not feel angry. I do not feel bad in any way. Rather, I feel relieved. Why should I continue to look for something that will always be beyond my reach? I know now that my experiences, as different as they may seem to others, are perfectly normal to me. I dwell in a different relm of normalcy. I always have, I always will. Why fight what I cannot change?

I'm a freak. I didn't ask for this part. But you best believe I will play it well.

(And have way more fun than you in the process.)

A Secondary Descent

Nina says...

My favorite high is the way I feel just before I'm about to pass out. It is calm and peaceful. There is no real noise, only fading images and intense sensations. It's like I'm floating. Or maybe falling. Or maybe nothing at all.

I find myself in an in-between dimension. One where the darkest memories of the past finally seem to stay where they should, and an inviting future is calling to me from a place beyond my comprehension. And the present moment is filled with nothing but the best memories, ones where I was a whole person. I relive the infected moments that have always seen me from one dark corner in my life to the next. Sometimes I can actually hear the music as the world fades away... the soundtrack of my story. And while I listen to the reminiscent beat, it feels as though a mysterious white light takes hold of my hand and sits there with me. It comforts me. It begins to tug on my hand, pulling me gently towards the unknown. A future that seems full of promise. One where every bit of potential I have ever had can finally be realized. A place where there is no pain.

But I love my infection more. I resist the urge to move forward. I let go of the light, and start to fade back into the world. Into the moment. Into the darkness again.

I wake up.


Lacey says...

At least I have already gone through this before. It's pretty hard to be scared when I already know what's coming. And the worst thing that could have happened already has. And I'm still here.

Is this the best you can do, Fancis? I dare you to show me better.

Beautiful White Trash

Nina says...

I find myself missing someone lately. Someone I never expected to miss. Especially as intensly as I do. Maybe it is the rain that hasn't seemed to stop for days now. Maybe it is all the Pablo Narudo in the air surrounding me. Or maybe it is just a longing for much simpler days. Days when it was so easy to love.

His name was Christopher and he had beautiful hands. The type of hands I always wanted to touch. He is the only boy with a disability I have ever been involved with. And he will probably always be the only one. I was 15 and he was 20 when we first met briefly, at Shriners Hospital no less. He told me I was gorgeous. The perversity of it is still appealing to me to this day. It seemed so scandalous and forbidden, yet wonderfully innocent. We didn't meet again till I was 17 and he was 22. He still thought I was gorgeous.

I always believed him when he told me I was beautiful. He didn't want anything from me. He always meant what he said. As freaks we could see in each other the twisted appeal that everyone else found repulsive. He was the first boy to kiss me. I still remember what his hands felt like on my face when he did.

Because we knew I would be leaving for college at the end of the summer when I was 18, we kept things simple. We didn't want to become too involved in something we knew would have to end. Even at age 18 I was aware of the complications relationships bring. The week before I left for school we spent every day together. He was my best friend. My only friend. The day before I left he gave me a book of poems and prose by Pablo Narudo. He had marked a page, but made me promise not to open to it until I was sitting in my new dorm room in college. So while alone in my empty room my very first night away from home I turned to the page he had marked, to a part of a poem he had underlined :

"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

It could have never worked out between he and I in the long run. He lacked ambition, as so many disabled people do. And it will always be unfortunate to me. Because he was good at loving me, and I was good at receiving it. It is the only time I have enjoyed someone caring about me more than I care about them. Honestly, I wouldn't change a thing about what we shared. It is perfect in its unbalanced imperfection. It is a love with character.

A Back Road to Villany

"Become a carnivour, on a tour of duty."

Lacey says...

I really wish I could view my life from an outsider's perspective. At least once. Just so I could see it subjectively. I feel like I am so blinded by pain sometimes that I really can't see anything for what it really is, even the pain itself. I am lost in it. Very, very lost.

Sometimes I entertain the idea that I have made it all up. That my life has been cake, free of any real problems. Sometimes I like to pretend that I am just an attention whore, who hasn't really had to deal with anything bad. That I have led a boring, easy life, and I just want people to think my life has been exciting and full of hardships. I wonder what it would be like to have that option, the option of lying about it. But the truth is, it really has all happened. And I have never particularly liked too much attention from others.

She/I/We have led a very difficult life where very few things have been easy. And I have always been best at charging it. Head butting the shit that constantly seems to happen to her. Fighting my way to the end of the battle, doing my best to leave it in the dust behind me. And I am good at it (at least I was), for the most part. She loves to think it has made her stronger. But it hasn't. It has only made me jaded and bitter. I am getting tired. And she is getting tired of me.

The pain alientates her, which is why I prefer to be alone. The ridiculous task of trying to relate to people who have no fucking clue how to comfort you is just not worth it. I could not have possibly gotten through all the shitty things if I had been simultaneously trying to get along with people who have never been in my position. No one likes to hear the "little trooper" really hates her life sometimes. And I can't say I blame them. I fucking hate whiners too. Why do you think I hate myelf so much? I am beyond everyone's understanding. I really am alone in our pain. And it feels like it has been a long time and I don't think I can change at this point.

I think the tradgety of it all is I am not much good at anything but pain. I have been doing it for so long, I have no idea what it feels like to do anything else well. All I expect is pain. There has always been something I have had to just get through and there always will be. My life will never be easy. I will always be struggling with something. Is it a self-fufilling prophecy? Pessimsm? Or just life? Sometimes I really think I was destined for a life of pain. But my biggest secret is that I will always hope I am wrong about that.

I want a fucking vacation. That would rock.

Punk

Amanda says...

Three years ago I went missing. I'm still not sure where I went. Or who now sits before you. I hope we meet again, me and my former self. She deserves to know how wonderful she is. And how much I miss her sometimes.

The Noose

So glad to see you well
Overcome and completely silent now
With Heaven's help
You cast your demons out
And not to pull your halo down
Around your neck and tug you off your cloud
But I'm more than just a little curious
How you're planning to go about
Making your amends to the dead
To the dead

Recall the deeds as if
They're all someone else's
Atrocious stories
Now you stand reborn before us all
So glad to see you well

And not to pull your halo down
Around your neck and tug you to the ground
But I'm more than just a little curious
How you're planning to go about
Making your amends to the dead
To the dead

With your halo slipping down
Your halo slipping
Your halo slipping down
Your halo slipping down
Your halo slipping down

Your halo slipping down to choke you now

She Desires Freedom

The Narrator says...

She needs a life completely separate from them. A life of her own, where she is free to be messy and completely insane. She is tired of being told how to live by a band of hypocrites. The loonies who actually think they are running the loony bin. They just keep helping and helping and helping, but they only make it worse.

She wants nothing from them anymore. Not a thing. They only make her head more of a mess by judging her life based on their own standards. Do they not see how destructive they are towards her? Always reaching, try to grab hold tightly to this girl. They keep trying to tell her she is wrong. They make her feel like the number 13, unlucky and forever stigmatized. They make her feel ugly. They make her feel weak.

She wonders if they would think differently of her if they knew the truth about her life that she has intentionally kept from them. Everything she has been through. Do they ever really stop to think why she has hidden such terrible things from them? She wants to move on. She wants to create her own life, based on her own standards. But they never let her go. They tell her not to be a victim, yet the truth is they are the only ones in the world who make her feel like she is. And she cannot wait for the day when their own judgments turn on themselves, and they can see they are no better than she is.

She will run away soon. They doubt she can make it on her own. But in her mind, that is the greatest part of the escape. They underestimate her. So when she does leave them behind, they will have no clue as to where she has gone.

Then she will be free.

"The Big Day"

Susie says...

I am absolutely fed up with my ridiculous living situation. Today was suppose to be my glorious day of liberation. Instead it has been nothing but a bitter reminder of how absurd things have gotten. If it was up to me, this roommate would have been out months ago. But I am not as nice as she is.

I am sick of beer cans constantly overflowing from the trash can. I am sick of entertaining groups of truly retarded boys who really can't construct an intelligent debate, but continue to try anyways. I am sick of falling asleep and waking up to horrendous rap music. I am sick of feeling my floor vibrate every weekend when that stupid, fat bitch (and you best believe I mean that) decides she needs to get laid by a skinny white boy. And I am sick of my body wash disappearing at an unbelievably fast rate. Buy yourself a goddamn bottle of Jergens, asshole.

As always I will regulate the situation. Because, honestly, who else will? But this is the last month I will. And you best believe I intend to make it a month of Hell, since she deserved retribution. Not only will he not be allowed to stay past this month, by the end of it, he won't want to.