Kick Drum Heart


Muddled thoughts in an almost-empty computer lab

Sometimes, you know (or think you know) someone to the point where, no matter what they say, you will instantly think they hate your guts.

I experience this daily, and I strongly feel that

Sorry. False start. Revving up again, here.

 

I can’t stand it. When it feels like someone who has been so close to you once, is revolted at the sight or sound of you.

I’ll admit, I’m a pretty opinionated person. I don’t hide behind false little thoughts that keep me safe and protected from scathing criticism. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care about being criticized (the whole point of this post is that I freaking do). But the focus of my life is certainly not on whether or not my views are regarded with pleasant feelings.

This isn’t about me, anyway. To take a risk of being annoyingly humble, I’ll repeat: this is so not about how I feel and what I do, or even how I am received.

This is about other people. And how is it that I can piss so many people off or have them think I’m ignorant or too worldly or stupid or outspoken or even too talented? How is that my fault? What am I supposed to do about it? Should I not care? Should I retaliate to show I have a backbone? Does it even matter in the grand scheme of things?

I don’t know. And I’m not going to give anything up because my life clashes with the workings of another. Or two or three. But it hurts to see how they hurt. What if I caused it, those many months ago? Or what if it was that, I wasn’t there for them, to support them when I should have? Could I have done anything, said anything, to fix it? Can I get back the relationship, the friendship, we once had?

I’m not sure. And I’m not sure if I want it the way it was.  But as of right now, I do.

And maybe that’s why life is so fickle and fraught with confusion and doubt and pain. People change their minds.

I just hate the thought of minds being changed about me when I can’t defend myself.



As my foot falls asleep,

I don’t know what I want to write about. I don’t know what I want to do right now. I don’t know what I want to do with my life.

Well crap, talking to Brendan always makes me think about the big things. God and life, love, materialism and all of those… big things. Deep thinking. Like floodwater deep (and that’s pretty deep, kids).

Oh man, does my head hurt. It’s just beginning to start to pound. My sister has a friend over, so it’s not like I can go in my room and sing to music. Or even practice and try to talk myself out of the headache. Nope, I have to be a docile little girl and not scare the shit out of Tara with melodic lines warbling through the troposphere.

I think I might grab some cappuccino (we went to Wal-Mart today) and head downstairs anyway, turn on some Avett Brothers or Anna Netrebko or maybe Bob Marley. I don’t care about what my sister’s friend thinks about me, that’s not why I’m not going to practice. I do care that my vocal techniques might make Tara’s somewhat critical and clique-y attitude whip toward my sister. They already call me the Opera Freak… therefore I won’t make Michelle pull more excuses out of the air about me. I think she already has enough of a hard time, because so many people that know me end up meeting her. She came home from Drama Camp one day and told me I was the Devil’s spawn. Ripley called her Kim. Emma called her Kim. Everyone else called her Kim’s little sister, except for like, Colleen. I think it gets a little old after a while.

So I won’t put any more stress on her. I’ll lay low and put together my bag for school (eight days!). I might cobble together a “first day” outfit. Drink some caffeinated beverage, and organize some old story snippets.

Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. It’ll be a cozy, hopefully relaxing end to the day. Maybe.