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Thursday, April 29, 2010


They named me poet of the year at the thing. I was ecstatic, everyone kept going up to me to congratulate me and ask for my autograph like I was a celebrity... and then I accidentally saw a pic of Dan kissing his girlfriend and now I'm back to feeling like nobody cares. *sigh* Isn't it pathetic that he can just drag me around by the heart strings like that? Geez. He's a very prickly cross to hold and I can't help but collapse every now and again. Anyway, here's the poem I ended up reading out loud on stage. It's called "Death by Broken Record."

She was praised by everyone from Sappho to Dane Cook;
Wanted by everyone except the one she wanted-a classic cliche.
Went home every day feeling like a massacred soldier on the front lines left behind;
Lying there, just waiting to die or be saved without any in between.
"Yeah, he's not the and there are other fish in the sea," she conceded to me. "But, see, he's my world and judging by all this swollen skin"--she indicated her swollen skin--"I seem to be allergic to all these other fish."
But he just didn't understand this,
And even if he did, it wouldn't have made a difference.
"I don't mean to be callous," he said, "but she's not my type. I like what I like and she's not it. I can't force myself to love someone I don't."
When I, a mere child, asked her if this meant love was just another lethal epidemic, all she could do was sigh and say:
"No, it's more like a broken record. The cliches and the classics are the only references that can be called accurate. And even if the mistakes don't repeat themselves, the problems will."

ily
~Belinda


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