My heart cannot be broken
By the cold soul inside you
Mine is not your heart to break
It belongs to me
My dreams cannot be shattered
By a man who has lost his own
Mine are not your dreams to crush
They belong to me
I cannot be torn apart
By the damaged love you give
I do not belong to you
I belong to me
I love this guy. For his brains. For his wit. For his impeccable delivery. For being human. For not being afraid to show his emotions. (And probably for not being able to hide them…)
The below video aired before Seth’s usual opening Wednesday night. (Well, he airs at 12:35am EST, so Thursday morning…) I apologize in advance for another post on this topic, but I really wanted to share this video… because I think it’s worth watching.
Beginning at about 2:48… it really gets to him (yet still, he makes jokes… love that about him). But you should watch the whole clip… because while Seth is clearly still in a bit of shock and disbelief, he made me laugh. Maybe he’ll do the same for you.
“Seth Meyers is the intelligent man’s comedian.”
[No, I am not choosing American Idiot (Green Day)…]
Moving on…
This song is ridiculous. And I haven’t heard it for years (well, until today). It’s funny in its ridiculousness. Apparently, funny enough that my memory of its existence has survived.
My heart is a flower
Budding, blooming, dripping dew
Dropping petals all over the place
Making a big hopeless mess
Stinking things up
Waiting for someone to come over and suck the pollen out of me
Suck me dry
‘Til I wilt
‘Til I am nothing
‘Til next Spring
I was starting to get my writing groove back. It was good. And now…
I have no words.
Fuck that, yes I do.
I have held it in for months. Fuck it. If this sends followers away, well, I doubt you liked it here anyway.
WTF? Seriously. What. The. Fuck. It pains me to know THAT many Americans support a racist, homophobic, misogynistic, xenophobic, lady-part grabbing, unhinged, unqualified asshat.
Hills was not my first choice… but she was none of that ⇑.
• • •
Bernie would’ve won.
At least it’s now legal for me to get high enough to forget this ever happened.
I considered disabling comments on this post but I want to have more faith in humanity than that. I reserve the right to moderate as I see fit. I will not tolerate hate, so uh… don’t piss me off. I am in no mood……
I found my soulmate
Hiding in the dark shadows
Of my lonely life
Is this song to me… or from me? I think both.
It reminds of ‘friends’ who disappeared when I needed them most. I know, that means they weren’t real friends, right? Yeah, people tell me that. Of course, then some of the people who tell me that magically vanish, too. So none of them were ever real friends? Fuck if I know. What’s true? What’s real? What’s right? Maybe ultimately everyone goes… maybe I’m just that awful.
After all, according to one old ‘friend’, sharing my personal struggles makes me ‘look unstable’. Is it really a surprise that I so often feel that I have to hide what’s inside me? That I have to pretend?
I know this all sounds melodramatic… But I played the song and started typing. And this is what came out… and I’m in no mood to edit, hide, or otherwise censor myself. So fuck it… I won’t. Take me as I am… I’m tired of faking it.
Damn, even my subconscious is a bitch. So stop listening to me. Listen to Beck.
No one left to watch your back now
No one standing at your door
That’s what you thought love was for
[…]
Baby you’re a lost cause
[…]
I’m tired of fighting for a lost cause
the message is
unmistakable
you think I’m
replaceable
I’ve never been
confrontational
but this time it’s
explainable
our bond was
educational
your lies were
unshakable
none of this is
debatable
the truth is not
erasable
although I am
capable
my trust is not
reclaimable
consequences
inescapable
I wish my emotions
unavailable
try to make them
untraceable
but peace is not
attainable
I remain
breakable
Note:
This is not written about anything specific currently transpiring in my life.
This is fiction. Mostly.
Someone has come into my life. More like barged in. And more like something, not someone. I call him Franx. (Him? I have no fucking idea if this thing even has a gender. For now, him.) He’s a fucking monster. I’ve enlisted Giles to assist, but he hasn’t done enough research yet to discover Franx’s weakness… what it will take to kill him… whether I will need weapons or a really strong fist or a side kick or the help of a friend or of a witch.
Give it up, Franx! Seriously. You’ve exhausted me. I sure as fuck hope the witch is the answer. Spells are so much neater. But I’ll probably have to kick the hell out of him. Strong, hard kicks, bringing his insides to the outside. I hope Giles comes through with that weak spot. That would really simplify the kill.
But until I can vanquish this fucking beast…
He has stolen my magic. (My ‘mojo’? I HATE that word.)
I have been trying to write #45/part 23 (secret admirer) for TWO fucking weeks.
I type a few words. But Franx is in my head. They’re all wrong. Delete. Try again. Still wrong. Delete. Try again. De-fucking-lete. Fuck off, Franx!
He has stolen my words. Okay, fine. My good words.
But yesterday, he gave me a break. A very short reprieve. He let me use some of the good words. And I wrote. A little. Not much… not enough. And I’ve already edited it about 12 times.
I feel his breath on the back of my neck. And not in the sexy-man-about-to-devour-me kind of way. (DAMMIT!) No. In the fucking-monster-is-about-to-devour-me kind of way. Fuck, did he let me have those pitifully small bits I wrote yesterday to tease me?
And who the hell invited Franx?
Oh… I already know the answer.
I did.
I didn’t know I was inviting him. I was just reading that ancient prophecy. Who knew it would bring forth Franx? And who knew he would be so hard to fight? Every swing I take makes him stronger. Stronger, God dammit! Hurry up, Giles. I know he’s a bitch of a monster to destroy but I need the weak spot. I need it now.
Every new position I try to get, every new role I think I can fill, every hour I spend searching… Franx tightens his grip on me. He tries to throw me back to the bottom of the hole I’ve been trying to escape.
Despite my attempts to attack him, I’ve been brushed off like a fly on his shoulder… and if I get too close, he flattens me. But I have to keep climbing until I can get out and stop him. Or at least slow him down.
Do I need to go back to the library and help Giles with his never ending research? Because when I think I’ve found the right weapon, it turns out I haven’t at all. It’s really hard to not feel like a failure.
I love those moments when I can hide from Franx. I know he’s still there. I need to be away from him sometimes. I know he’s still there. I want to do something that’s not about fighting Franx. I know he’s still there. I want Franx to get the fuck out of my head. I know he’s still there. I want Franx to stop invading every part of my life. I know he’s still there.
I have emails I haven’t answered (probably a week behind now)…
I have blogs I haven’t read (at least 3 or 4 days behind now)…
I have errands left undone (but Franx gives in a little, only for the kids)…
I have hours of sleep I haven’t slept (Franx, you annoying fuck)…
Until I find the right weapon, the right tactic, the right kill zone… I have to keep looking. But I also need Franx to let me live my fucking life once in a while.
I want friends. Sure, I want to vent. (And I hope the Franx story makes this vent bearable.) But even more, I want to laugh. I want a break from the surrounded-by-people-and-Franx-but-still-lonely loneliness. I want to feel good about myself even if Franx keeps trying to take that away from me. I want to break the detrimental circular thinking. I want to be the beautiful person some of you actually believe I am. And I want to believe it, too.
If you haven’t lost interest… I guess you could go back to the last secret admirer post and read it again. And with any luck I will write… and post… soon. And I will not necessarily wait until a Friday to post… because that would just be mean. And I don’t want to be Franx.
Liam Sullivan's Ideas and Reflections
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“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” — Maya Angelou
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