The Emerald City


A Letter of Catharsis (had to be said, so deal)

Posted in letters,life,rage,relationships by Scaramouche on 31 January, 2008

Dear ______:

3 years ago, you and I dated for about five months. We were both in Grade 9. Both fourteen. You were my first boyfriend. I was what… your ninth? It was five months, wasn’t it? I’d like to say I can’t remember, but I do. Everything. I remember all you did. The lies. The guilt. The pain. Let’s itemize, shall we?

First. You are aware that I was a fourteen-year-old girl, right? You were my first boyfriend, the only guy who’d ever thought I was pretty. I was a kid. I didn’t know what real relationships were like. So I let you do things to me that I was not ready for. You made me go farther than I should’ve. A month into our relationship, I’d already done pretty much everything but actual sex. You would use me as nothing more than just an object. Make me pose for you. Make me do things to you. Make me let you do things to me. When I said no, I didn’t want to, you used guilt trips to make me feel like I was the one doing the wrong thing. You made me feel like if I said no, I’d either lose you, or I’d be the one hurting you. I thought I loved you. I agreed.

You lied to me. You’d pretend to like something just to make me like you more. You pretended to know things you didn’t, in an attempt to impress me. LYING DOESN’T MAKE ME LIKE YOU MORE! I felt betrayed, knowing you willingly deceived me. Knowingly deceived me. I felt weak and stupid, seeing how easy it was for you.

You physically hurt me. Remember the day you slapped me across the face? Remember how you initially spouted some bullshit about how you “thought I was someone else” – we’d been talking for a good half hour at that point, dumbass – and then said that it was my fault. My fault. It was always my fault. When you dislocated my wrist – which still gives me trouble, by the way, as it is right now – you said it was my fault.

It was always my fault with you, wasn’t it? You’d use things against me. Money you spent for me, gifts you bought me, unasked, would be used as leverage. Ways of making me feel as though I owed you. Like I didn’t deserve you. Like I was ungrateful. You selfish son of a bitch.

All that you did, I accepted. I still, foolishly, believed I was in love with you. Eventually, this culminated in you breaking my heart when I said I wanted to stop everything sexual. It left lasting scars, by the way.  I’m not going to say the most severe, because family members read this blog, but I still feel guilty whenever a guy spends money on me. I still feel like I have to rush the sexual side of relationships. Until very recently, I felt as though it was impossible for males to feel love. Because throughout this torture, YOU INSISTED THAT YOU LOVED ME. Hah. My wrist still hurts me daily. (On the ground screaming, you still didn’t stop twisting my hand.) And it is practically IMPOSSIBLE for me to feel beautiful. I don’t trust ANYONE when they say I’m pretty. Because you said I was, and you lied about everything else. Oh, and you remember this little line?

“I tell you you’re beautiful and smart, even though you’re NOT.”

You actually said that to me. You son of a BITCH! Why… what was going through your mind as you said these things? Did you think that you were honestly doing the right thing? Did you honestly think that was the right way to treat your girlfriend? REALLY? Thanks for the insecurity complex.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Right now, and for the rest of my life, all I want is for you to die. Just fucking DIE. You BROKE me.  Congratu-fuckin-lations. You’ve ruined me forever.

I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY YOU GODDAMN FUCKING DEMON.

–A.

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a world of annoyance

Posted in music,rage,rants by Scaramouche on 22 November, 2007

I have always been the sort of person who has a deep, deep affection for music of all kinds. It touches me on a deep, personal level. It is to this day the only thing that can soothe me when my world is coming apart, the only thing that simultaneously grounds me and lets me fly. Music, to me, is the only real truth in this world. It is the only thing that makes sense anymore. It breathes and lives and when I’m sad it wraps a blanket of sound around me and when I’m happy it dances with me and when I’m angry it rages with me and when I’m in love it sings its praises to the sky with me.

Thusly, I find it SO. DAMNED. IRRITATING when people insist on raping my sweet Music’s corpse. Specifically, I hate. hate. hate. hate. hate. hate. hate. hate. hate. HIGH. SCHOOL. MUSICAL.

That piece of ever-lovin’ SHIT has no place in life. There is no reason for it. It has no purpose. The songs do not have any depth. No meaning.  Nothing! It is pointless, mindless, utter fluff.

 And SOMEHOW! The Powers That Be have deemed this tripe, this… this total waste of soundwaves: “BEST SOUNDTRACK” in the American Music Awards.

I have only one question.

WHYYYY??? What in the name of the Divine possessed you idiots to even NOMINATE that ridiculous concoction of all that is evil and wrong?? When there was the option of Across the Universe (the most beautiful and meaningful and perfect creation of film and music I have ever seen), how could you have possibly decided, “No… let’s go with the fluff. Genius is overrated.”

Ugh. I am disgusted with life. Kill me now, plz.