Monday June 20, 2005
I was browsing iTunes tonight. I suppose I was looking to compile my own personal soundtrack. A look at my life through the pop culture of the times. I should have known better than to think I could find my life in all that. I found the life of many others, but certainly not mine. Mine must be in a book somewhere.
Anyway. It occurred to me that there are so many things about me that even my closest of friends do not know. People I’ve shared words with and beds with and meals with (not in that order) who know nothing of me. Some will surprise, some you will think you always knew, some you will realize in yourself. That’s ultimately why I’m writing this. Not for me. I’ve already had the self discovery (and man it was a bitch). Hopefully it will be easier for you.
I have a secret love of truly bad television. The list of things I fear greatly exceeds the list of things that make me happy. I have never felt beautiful. I want nothing more than to be a mother. Some weekends I get into bed on Friday and literally do not get out until Monday. I have never been in love. I wish that someone understood my need to be sad. I often blare Lady Marmalade on my stereo. I love nothing more than being kissed. I don’t want to be married, but I want a diamond ring (which I already have designed). I truly believe in the difference between actual truth and emotional truth. I am an amazing piano player, but can’t play in front of people. I hate the color pink, but own pink underwear. Some days I think I am crazy. Some days I think I am the only sane person I know. I want someone to take care of me. I want to be left alone in the dark. I want romance. I am terrified of lightning. 8 years later I still have nightmares about my car accident. I love it when a man brushes the hair out of my eyes. I have to write in the dark. I honestly have no idea what makes me happy. I love.