write/ older entries/ / miss miranda/ burningtheletters.net

2002-12-23 - 12:40 a.m. we were so secret, so self-contained, so perfect, so microcosmically representative of everything we wanted to see in the world we lived in. at 16, we knew what we wanted. it could only be found at night, deep in the woods of desire and trees. it pulsated with rock and roll, with skirts and tall boots and holding your hand in mine as we searched, searched, searched desperately for some place to just be alone, away from school and our parents and this city where the lights never go out. i heard music in my ears even when it wasn't playing. you always brought led zeppelin tapes, or we'd lay on our back in the grass as the water seeped through my coat and skirt and listen to nirvana or the violent femmes. we'd get donuts at safeway and sit in your car for hours, being excited and scared all at once of being caught, of people seeing what we did while we were alone, crying and speaking prophecy and putting our hands all over each other, grasping for something, anything, in the dark of night and of our teenaged lives. we felt natural huddling together, trying to find a place in the park away from the stoners and the drum circle and the late night dog walkers. where we could be alone with the trees and the history of this place and watch the cars go up the hill, dizzy and drunk with promise and cheap beer. this was what i shaped my adolescent poetry out of, and i gave you my heart, no questions asked, plain and simple, not even thinking of the consequences. i was scared of everything yet wanted to have it all, to hold it all, to be so fabulous, so beautiful, so adult, so hip, so authentic, so talented. i wanted you and me to be the best thing since bonnie and clyde, to create our own rules, our own plans, our own future. you told me how you wanted to break free of your family, what they wanted of you. i told you the same, and how i pulsated with something so painful sometimes i had to cut it out of me. we cried together, i often fell asleep on your arm, soaking your sweater with tears. i look back now and see all this, see it all before it began to slowly fall apart, before i had to start scrambling around, searching for the pieces, frantically trying to get them to fit back into place, trying to make it all lovely and dark again. i see it before you went back to being what they wanted you to be, before you told me that all we had all we said all we did was lies, before you made it clear that i was merely a roadside attraction on your way to success and happiness, that i was the rebel girl, queen of your world, but you grew up. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. ( 0 tell me?)