aosid's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - optional soundtrack with a silly pretty title. several ways to die trying. it plays in my head every time i wake up. hashtag ClosetEmo. There was a time we all hated each other. I don't remember much of the reasons - I worked or slept through it. That was how I dealt with it, and that was how I contributed to the venom. I've never been able to scream at anyone. I think I hated Dad for being so angry the few days he was home every month. My sister hated me for not having a curfew ("He was at the symphony.") and she hated them for trusting me ("Why, what would you be doing?"). And Mom hated her for being the sort of girl she used to resent and me for sleeping through all of this. And Charles was as quiet as I was, but you could always tell that he had it all inside too. It wasn't a very interesting situation, but it's important context. We found one thing to share, Sam and I did. We had to ride together to school - that was more fuel, of course, especially after I hit those deer and proved my unworthiness. So we rode silently and fought our wretched little battles over the radio. But then I bought that album. "A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar." I should have hated it then. He has the whiniest voice and moans about self-inflicted problems and god I was such a snob. But I didn't hate it. And she didn't either. So we made peace (just as silent) over a CD. I still think that was the beginning of the beginning. I still adore it, and everything else he's made. The band is probably not that great. I always forget to mention it as my guiltiest pleasure. I still fear your scorn, even as I've lost that fear for everyone else. But every song has something, a line or a perfect bitter exuberance or a bad habit I recognize in myself. I like to call myself post-post-modern because it makes any thinking person really mad. But it really is what I've built from whoever I've admired: be metacognitive, deconstruct it into clinical dust motes, but don't forget to be unapologetically sentimental. It's a life. Oh yeah: Take notice, take interest, take me with you. 9:51 a.m. - 2013-03-10 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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