The Secret Diary of Janey Jones

[sweepthefloor]

I had my share of scare for October. I was afraid for one night. Then I remembered what my old lover said: You are safe here. Who is dumb enough to break into Freddie’s house? Look at this place.

I paced the perimeter of the house all-alone. I checked every room, every closet and under the beds. There is a splitting maul next to the back door, and a chain saw on top of a stove that doesn’t work. The chain saw works. I checked it.

I sat in front of the wood burner with a little axe and split off pieces of wood for kindling. There is a horror movie in my head and I think: I would never be stupid like the girls in the movies. I wouldn’t run upstairs and stand against the bedroom door whimpering. I wouldn’t fit up the chimney, but even if I could fit, I wouldn’t hide there either. He would smell my fear and roast me like a pig in a brick oven. I started a fire, but not in the wood burner.

I suppose I would assess the situation. I’d use my critical thinking skills to figure out what he wanted. Does he want to rape me? If so, will he kill me after?

Does he want to tie me down, shoot his saucy DNA inside my womb and cage me for nine months while I spawn his child?

Are those hair-raising hemostats in his pocket or is he just happy to see me? He wants my organs, and he has the skills to get them.

Would he spare my biggest kidney bean for a beautiful breath taking blowjob?

Can I talk? Will any sound come out?

.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Little Red Riding Hood does not chase the big bad wolf. The forest is dark and dangerous. His hair is the color of wolves fur, and his eyes are blue like the huskies one eye.

I keep walking the same path through the trees, and my cap is always red. He always jumps out when I forget he exists. He often tells me to pick flowers, and I spend hours doing just that. Sometimes he requests a juicy apple from my basket; I always rub the apple clean before handing it over.

Then he swallows me whole and I live inside his soul for a while. I fight my way out because there are no hunters here to save me. Once I am out, I realize it is cold. I want to get back inside, but he tells me: I am changing my ways, I will no longer eat Red Riding Hoods in the forest, just leave your apple basket and go away. I leave the basket and shiver my way back to my house. I am confused.

My house is a ship and I deep-six the wolf. Eventually I find myself seasick. I put on the red cape and traipse through the forest again. He hears the leaves that crackle under-foot.

 

[YourCaptor]

Little Red Riding Hood does not chase the big bad wolf. The forest is dark and dangerous. His hair is the color of wolves fur, and his eyes are blue like the huskies one eye.

I keep walking the same path through the trees, and my cap is always red. He always jumps out when I forget he exists. He often tells me to pick flowers, and I spend hours doing just that. Sometimes he requests a juicy apple from my basket; I always rub the apple clean before handing it over.

Then he swallows me whole and I live inside his soul for a while. I fight my way out because there are no hunters here to save me. Once I am out, I realize it is cold. I want to get back inside, but he tells me: I am changing my ways, I will no longer eat Red Riding Hoods in the forest, just leave your apple basket and go away. I leave the basket and shiver my way back to my house. I am confused.

My house is a ship and I deep-six the wolf. Eventually I find myself seasick. I put on the red cape and traipse through the forest again. He hears the leaves that crackle under-foot.

You can't tame a wild animal, and the one thing you never want to do with a wild animal is turn and run.

 

[sweepthefloor]

You can't tame a wild animal, and the one thing you never want to do with a wild animal is turn and run.

It is not easy to stand and face the animal truth. My eyes turn to the ground by default. When the truth turns it's back on me slowly-- I run as fast as I can to my dreams.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I am the girl running into the pink sunrise, on a country road. I can’t see my shadow. There is no shoulder on the side of the road. I run towards the traffic so I can hop into the ditch if necessary. There is a ditch.

It hurts. The pain feels good. I am running the rust water off my face. There are five roads with the same name. The only difference is the hyphenated extension towards the towns they lead too. I don’t really know which road I run, I only know it is the one that leads to the sunrise. I run to the sun.

I am running out the energy for sexual safety. The roosters are cock-a-doodling as I run by and they sound as if they are yelling at me because I am five minutes later than I was yesterday. I would cock-a-doodle back but the incline is taking my breath. The cerebral perfusion pressure feels great, and my heart feels strong.

 

[janeyruth]

are you sad? do you feel that the future is hopeless and that things cannot improve? are you bored and dissatisfied with everything? are you a complete failure as a person? are you guilty? are you being punished?

you used to be able to cry but now you're beyond tears. you've lost interest in other people, you can't make decisions, you can't eat you can't sleep you can't think you cannot overcome your loneliness, your fear, your disgust

you are fat you cannot write you cannot love, your brother is dying, your lover is dying, you are killing them both you are charging towards your death you are terrified of medication you cannot make love you cannot fuck you cannot be alone you cannot be with others your hips are too big you dislike your genitals you dislike the sound of your lover's breathing

admit it. you want to reach down your own throat and rip your heart out of your chest

 

[Sir_Winston54]

are you sad? blah blah blah venomous envious spew.

You are a sick sad person. And henceforth, on my ignore list. Be proud; you've accomplished something that only six other people have managed in my seven-plus years on this board.

 

[DeepGreenEyes]

are you sad? do you feel that the future is hopeless and that things cannot improve? are you bored and dissatisfied with everything? are you a complete failure as a person? are you guilty? are you being punished?

<cut because I wanted to print it and save in medicine cabinet as ipecac.>

...admit it. you want to reach down your own throat and rip your heart out of your chest

Awwwww... SO CUTE!!! Is janeywuth a widdle cunty bitch!!?? Is she the board's oozing pus-filled syphyllitic asshole???! Yes she IS!!! She IS!!!

*tickles chin. Smacks your head with stick*

 

[sweepthefloor]

are you sad? do you feel that the future is hopeless and that things cannot improve? are you bored and dissatisfied with everything? are you a complete failure as a person? are you guilty? are you being punished?

you used to be able to cry but now you're beyond tears. you've lost interest in other people, you can't make decisions, you can't eat you can't sleep you can't think you cannot overcome your loneliness, your fear, your disgust

you are fat you cannot write you cannot love, your brother is dying, your lover is dying, you are killing them both you are charging towards your death you are terrified of medication you cannot make love you cannot fuck you cannot be alone you cannot be with others your hips are too big you dislike your genitals you dislike the sound of your lover's breathing

admit it. you want to reach down your own throat and rip your heart out of your chest

I imagine these words are self descriptive, and I empathize with whatever it is that you are going through that created this prompt on your drama set.

 

[sweepthefloor]

You are a sick sad person. And henceforth, on my ignore list. Be proud; you've accomplished something that only six other people have managed in my seven-plus years on this board.

I can not ignore the sad and sick, it is against my nurse nature.

 

[sweepthefloor]

...............................................
*tickles chin. Smacks your head with stick*

I'd be a cute widdle cunty bitch to get a beating and a tickle, but that wastes energy in a world going green.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I might be alone, but I am loved by many; taken care of by none. I run with a high self-esteem that breaks down and jump-starts itself sometimes. I just hot-wired myself again this morning with a screwdriver.

He organized my wires and fastened the nuts on tight and then he ripped them out again when I needed to go. That was ‘us’ in the car on the country road and his arm found my arm, and I made love to his ligaments once again as if that was all I ever wanted to make love to. He whispers: You know what I need, you know how to touch me. My mind whispered: pinch me again like you did that one time before. He can’t hear me so I fall back into the lusty arm service.

I hear his voice: Are you breaking up with me? It was an intimidating tone that froze my voice box. My mind whispered: I can’t talk, pull my hair back and force my mouth open.

I am never bored, it is just not in my nature and I don’t even know what the word actually means. I am a marionette with no puppet master but somehow I still move fluidly. I look up and see no hand. I look down and realize I am not a pile of wood on the floor. Sometimes I whisper to myself: I want to be a real girl.

I am tiptoeing over here, and tapping over there and the chief medical director is reciting a song to me in the nurse’s station:

He drove his car to the racing ground
He was the youngest driver there
The crowd roared as they started the race
From the track they drove at a deadly pace

No one knows what happened that day, how his car over turned in flames, but as they pulled him from the twisted wreck, with his dying breath, they heard him say...

I still blush but I am very used to his voice reciting. The truth is I memorized the lyrics from him, and never even listened to the song. I don’t want to listen to the music because it might ruin his monotone voice inside my head.

I embrace my disgustingness with grace. I am guilty of being strong and weak at the same time.

My skinny heart runs on my souls gold. I look better in silver but I won’t deny my wealth, even as he bankrupts my brain.

 

[HottieMama]

I might be alone, but I am loved by many; taken care of by none. I run with a high self-esteem that breaks down and jump-starts itself sometimes. I just hot-wired myself again this morning with a screwdriver.

I love this line...

 

[sweepthefloor]

I love this line...

Thanks HottieMama, I appreciate the compliment, it reminds me that I might be whispering, but you can hear me, and you like it.

 

[Sir_Winston54]

In response to a venomous spew:

You are a sick sad person. And henceforth, on my ignore list. Be proud; you've accomplished something that only six other people have managed in my seven-plus years on this board.

I can not ignore the sad and sick, it is against my nurse nature.

I can. I have no nurse nature. My nature is sadist. To take attention away is to give her/it pain. Unwelcome pain, I sincerely hope, though primarily I provide desired pain. For the ignored one, however, I'll bend that boundary.

 

[Curious_in_Cali]

I am a marionette with no puppet master but somehow I still move fluidly. I look up and see no hand. I look down and realize I am not a pile of wood on the floor. Sometimes I whisper to myself: I want to be a real girl.

I love this. It is terribly beautiful and so are you. Thank you.

 

[janeyruth]

You are jealous of your sleeping lover and his induced unconsciousness. When he awakens he will envy your sleepless night of thought and speech unslurred by medication. Some will call this self-indulgence (they are lucky not to know its truth). Some will know the simple fact of pain. This is becoming your normality.

It wasn't for long, It wasn't there long. But drinking bitter black coffee you catch that medicinal smell in a cloud of ancient tobacco and something touches you in that still place and a wound from two years ago opens like a cadaver and a long buried shame roars its foul decaying ubiquity. A room of expressionless faces stare blankly at your pain, so devoid of meaning there must be evil intent. Burning in a hot tunnel of dismay, your humiliation complete as you shake without reason and stumble over words and have nothing to say about your 'illness' which anyway amounts only to knowing that there's no point in anything. And you are deadlocked by that smooth psychiatric voice of reason which tells you there is an objective reality in which your body and mind are one. But you are not here and never have been. The doctors write this down and attempt a sympathetic murmur. Watching you, judging you, smelling the crippling fear oozing from your skin, your desperation clawing and all-consuming panic drenching you as you gape in horror at the world and wonder why everyone is smiling and looking at you with secret knowledge of your aching shame.

Shame shame shame. Drown in your fucking shame. Inscrutable doctors, sensible doctors, way-out doctors, doctors you'd think were fucking patients if you weren't shown proof otherwise, ask the same questions, put words in your mouth, offer chemical cures for congenital anguish and cover each other's asses until you want to scream...

 

[AdamHaigh13]

Thanks HottieMama, I appreciate the compliment, it reminds me that I might be whispering, but you can hear me, and you like it.

i have just read the entire thread from start to finish..i feel like it was a rollercoaster from a story of highs and lows. Though you may not have found what you wanted, there is always hope that everything will work out.

There are those who see us, but do not know us, there are those who see us, but forget all about us. there are those who see us but do not know the real worth of who we are, there are those who see us...and then there are those who do not see us for whom we yearn to see us

Hope you have a good day

 

[sweepthefloor]

In response to a venomous spew:

I can. I have no nurse nature. My nature is sadist. To take attention away is to give her/it pain. Unwelcome pain, I sincerely hope, though primarily I provide desired pain. For the ignored one, however, I'll bend that boundary.

You would make a great neuro-surgeon!

 

[sweepthefloor]

I love this. It is terribly beautiful and so are you. Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you for loving this while I search for the terrible beauty.

 

[Sir_Winston54]

You would make a great neuro-surgeon!

Probably not. They're too modest.

 

[sweepthefloor]

i have just read the entire thread from start to finish..i feel like it was a rollercoaster from a story of highs and lows. Though you may not have found what you wanted, there is always hope that everything will work out.

There are those who see us, but do not know us, there are those who see us, but forget all about us. there are those who see us but do not know the real worth of who we are, there are those who see us...and then there are those who do not see us for whom we yearn to see us

Hope you have a good day

Thank you.

I know he doesn't see me.
It is a game: I hide me and seek him.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Probably not. They're too modest.

Yeah they give me the creeps anyway.

 

[DeepGreenEyes]

I'd be a cute widdle cunty bitch to get a beating and a tickle, but that wastes energy in a world going green.

There are too many, already, and, besides, your alternative fuel is poetry, not widdle cunty bitchiness, which has too many harmful emissions.

 

[sweepthefloor]

I wear soft pink cords while splitting cordwood and I am splintering the kindling for self-generating heat. I am squirreling away this heat because the winter is long and coming. I love nuts. It is hard.

Every girl has her emotional snap twig. I happen to splinter mine like the wood that starts my fires.

Then I remember those freezing mornings in the little red ranger, in the woods on the look out. The man with the chainsaw is my Father. I am cold. He cuts up the already felled dead trees and I throw the heat in the truck quick. I anticipate smiling when the dog water ice bowls melt.

I wanted to forget me, but he wouldn’t let me. I beg to be broken, but not like this. I have already been broke like this before. He doesn’t know me and I don’t blame him.

I don’t know if it is splitting the wood or burning it that makes us hotter.

The road to winter is laid like a corduroy path on my ass.