Maybe Madeleine in Ohio...Novembre 2006

Maybe Madeleine in Ohio would like me. Maybe Madeleine in Ohio understands every single thought I think. Maybe Madeleine in Ohio cries with me – I think near Gare du Midi. I'm on the bus and my cheeks have been rained over like they never have before.
I don't cry because I'm desperate. I cry because of the calm after the storm. I cry because of friendship. I cry because I hear the voices of my sirens. And they have said things like You sheela na gig. And they have said things like Poor little rich...(girl).
And because I'm so lost. Oh, Father. He gave life to me but I don't know what to do with it. Still.
I carry on. I carry on. I do not scratch. I do not lie on the road, waiting to be run over by a car. I don't starve myself to see that it doesn't come. I do not. I carry on. With my liquid eyes and my soaking wet cheeks. I carry on, dragging my suitcase behind me, my burden, my life. Burn the books. They've got too many names and psychoses.
And everything was blurred and white and grey and dark and I couldn't distinguish my way, and I said 'Where do you have to go ? I don't know where I am so..." and he said "I know". He said that something had been important to him and helped him through - his friends (and he led me through the way – I was so fucking lost with the tears blinding my eyes and my whole face leaking, could see nothing at all). And he said that I had friends, who appreciated me (and he led me, showed me the way). It was very important. I had cried. In the bus, I had cried. "If God was there, in front of us, if I were God, in front of us " I'd cried "then he would say... 'he'll succeed and she will fail' " and I had screamed "You started from nothing and you're building something wonderful while I have everything at the start and will fall down and crash . I'm going to fail. I'll be my own little ruin. I'm fucking going to die. And that is so not fair. I mean, it is... Fair."
And the words ! How I hate them. I could destroy everything. Burn the books, erase the names, the psychoses. I forced things on him. I wanted to be recognised by him. And I couldn't. It just could not be. I cannot force things to happen. And I'm imposing my bleeding wounds on people for them to watch and this cannot be. I'm turning them into voyeurs and it is not decent, it is not decent, I can't do that. They do not want to be my confidents, they do not want to know that. What, "that" ? What is "that" ?
They were not stupid, he said. People knew the motives and they knew it all too well, they knew me too well, too fucking well and they didn't want to know. It's so easy. I'm so easy. So obvious ! Now maybe Madeleine in Ohio is like me.