Wednesday, August 12, 2009

i don't want to, i.. i don't want to be myself. [what's done is me.]

I name things I own. Is that strange? It’s very true, though. Example. I have an ipod. Being my 3rd ipod, my ipod is called Winston III. The car is Kensington. The blackberry is Brixton. There may be a theme. Brixton is a trickster. I often think I see my red light flashing, and it’s just my imagination. I see a lot of things out of the corner of my eye lately. Sometimes it’s a little unnerving. I won’t lie about that.

Very much like Florence (and the Machine)… I am a rabbit-hearted girl. (I’m not positive she’s a rabbit-hearted girl. She’s quite a friendly and outgoing sort of rabbit... The kind to play with your hair and be quite cuddly. In my experience, anyway.) back to the subject at hand…
I am a rabbit-hearted girl. And, I sometimes wish I was more of a lioness. Perhaps I actually was once. I’ve known a lot of liars. What’s a girl to do when all of the boys you’ve ever really loved have lied to you? When far too many friends have lied. When your own father… let’s let that rest, eh?

What’s a girl to do?
Think everyone is lying, of course! Welcome to the house of paranoia.
Welcome to loneliness.
There’s a reason I think I name these little possessions. Because, it’s a strange way of being kept company, without having to give my heart away. Without having to be hurt. (it’s also fun and cute. But I do think this is the deeper meaning to these girlish nuances of mine) I mean, I’d like a dog to keep me company. But, do you want to know how twisted my mind and heart has become? (I’ll take the shaking of your head as a yes.) I’m actually afraid to get a dog. Because I don’t want to wrap my heart up in a sweet creature that will eventually die. And I’ll be heartbroken.

That’s what it’s come to.
Frightening. Brutal honesty. I’m a scared little rabbit in headlights.

And then, there’s the voice of CS Lewis…
There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell .I believe that the most lawless and inordinate loves are less contrary to God’s will than a self-invited and self-protective lovelessness… We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the sufferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to Him; throwing away all defensive armour. If our hearts need to be broken, and if He chooses this as a way in which they should break, so be it. What I know about love and believe about love and giving ones heart began in this.

i should just stop talking.

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