[ profile of a stranger ]

I see her all the time, but I only used to know her. she's a stranger now, and for the rest of my life.

she's cool, in that sort of hip cynical way. politically correct, and active. knows about all those things that are the mark of people who have "culture" and who are "involved" in things. at the same time, she has apathy and boredom.

when applicable.

she drinks coffee, and thrives on caffiene. she watches artsy movies, and reads artsy books. she can't decide who she is; she can only decide what she is. whatever you've done, whatever you've seen, whatever you've read...oh, she already did that. last year, as a matter of fact. and she knows everything about it, too. but don't catch her off guard, or you're in for a hidden dirty look.

of course, she did that on purpose. she never makes mistakes.

she has a past. one of those horrible hidden ones. one of those pasts that she vaugely hints to, and when people ask about it, she stays just ambiguous enough to keep them interested. I lived that past. there wasn't anything special about it except for the fact that she tried to drag everyone down with her. the people she left broken in her wake are still trying to pick up the pieces.

"one more reason to hate her, for making beautiful songs sound a little less beautiful." as taco put it.

she talks to me, with a smile. she's perfectly approachable and friendly. fuck that, I know what she's up to. still trying to prove she's the better one. as if to say "I can forgive, why can't you?" she even pretends to be interested in what I say. to hell with that. this isn't another contest to see who's the better person.

even though I don't know her anymore, it's still personal.

[ 1.23.00 ]

all writings (c) cydne zabel 1996-2002, all rights reserved