betterversionof

Fri, 08 Dec 2006 21:48:15 GMT

"It is not just forcible intercourse; rape means to inhabit and destroy everything."

Fri, 31 Mar 2006 04:28:35 GMT

"I wanted him to hold me, to take care of me. To make the pain dissolve away. I know that this was part of what had ruined everything, but I wanted it once more anyways."

Four years and it takes you less than three weeks to leave.
Less than what, four days? Before you slept with her.
I bet you still had scratchs from me on your back.

Tue, 28 Mar 2006 22:45:39 GMT

Ex-boyfriend stole my money.

I gave it to him first. Forty dollars. He was going to buy a video game and I've always had a problem with helping him out with money to make him happy with me. So I give him forty dollars. My only money for a month and a half. Money I need to give part of to my mom and part of to pay for a class.

The games not out yet. So he uses some of the money to put it on reserve, which was perfectly fine with me. But the game doesnt come out till August. So I wanted the rest of my money back. And I told him I'd let him re-borrow the money then.

We get into a fight over something else and he tells me he wants me out of his life (again).

Today, two days later, I tell him if he tells me a time he wont be home I can stop by and get my money and a book of mine thats at his house.

He spent my money. Not on a video game. So probably on pot or the-new-girlfriend.

My money. My money he knew I needed.
He'll MAYBE give me ten dollars MAYBE next week.

I have two dollars and only two ciggarettes left.

Tue, 28 Mar 2006 22:38:03 GMT

"Weetzie knew by his eyes that he was going away forever. His eyes that had always been like lakes full of fishes, or waves of love, or bathtub steam and candle smoke, or at least like glasses of gin when he was sad, were now like two heavy green marbles, like the eyes of the mechanical fortune-teller on the Santa Monica pier. She hardly recognized him because she knew he didn’t recognize her, not at all. Once, on a bus in New York, she had seen the man of her dreams. She was twelve and he was carrying a guitar case and roses wrapped in green paper, and there were raindrops on the roses and on his hair and he hadn’t looked at her once. He was sitting directly across fro her and staring ahead and he didn’t see anyone, anything there. He didn’t see Weetzie even though she had known then that someday they must have babies and bring each other roses and write songs together and be rock stars. Her heart had felt as meager as her twelve-year-old chest, as if it had shriveled up because this man didn’t recognize her. That was nothing compared to how her heart felt when she saw My Secret Agent Lover Man’s dead marble fortune-teller eyes."