cauldroness ([info]cauldroness) wrote,
@ 2009-01-22 23:48:00
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Is this my song?
I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today
I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today



I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
I just want to feel something today
I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
I just want to feel something today

[CHORUS:]
Open me up and you will see
I'm a gallery of broken hearts
I'm beyond repair, let me be
And give me back my broken parts

I just want to know today, know today, know today
I just want to know something today
I just want to know today, know today, know today
Know that maybe I will be ok

[CHORUS]

Just give me back my pieces
Just give them back to me please
Just give me back my pieces
And let me hold my broken parts

I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today
I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today

I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
I just want to feel something today
I just want to know today, know today, know today
Know that maybe I will be ok
Know that maybe I will be ok
Know that maybe I will be ok



I'm about half-way through The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath.

Still on my book list are Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, and then Virginia Woolf's own A Room of One's Own, in addition to Where the Girls Are: Growing Up Female with the Mass Media and The Second Sex. Don't despair, though, my reading list isn't entirely feminist works: despite my hatred of John Steinbeck, I have The Grapes of Wrath on my list, as well as There Are No Children Here, The Hot Zone, and Bad Blood: The Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment.

It's strange, how my tastes have changed. I have trouble remembering the last sci-fi/fantasy book I read... perhaps Dead After Dark which, despite how much I like True Blood, was a bit of a disappointment. Maybe I'll read the next book in the series after the next season of True Blood is finished (Fall 2009?). I don't know what happened; I simply do not want to read about overcoming that Great Evil (TM) or meeting one's True Love (c). I can't believe it anymore; my mind screams "This isn't true, this is all false, all wrong!" with each page. I want truth. I want ugly, petty, unfair, tangled truth, with all its unhappy endings and unfinished stories.

Maybe it's because I think it -- and, perhaps, I -- won't be okay?


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