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stupidfool
my god i want marie. today she touched me, not molly. today it was all about me and it's still fucking frustrating.
i went up there for cigarettes once, and i came over to the low doorway and asked her or art for them. she came over to me and took my face in her hands and caressed my cheeks and my chin and leaned close to me and rubbed her cheek against mine and said sweetly, 'sure, anything for you...'
art started laughing, but not a ha-ha laugh, more like an incredulous laugh. he asked marie, 'did you just cuddle her?'
she shrugged and handed me the cigarettes, and as i walked away, he asked her, 'marie, is there something you're not telling me?'
then i was too far away to hear her answer. he was sort of joking, but i wonder how she answered. i don't want to be a part of that conversation at all, but i'd sure like to hear what she has to say to that. i'd like to know what she's thinking throughout all this, why exactly she's so fascinated with touching me...

i was on self-check, and she kept calling me over to the low doorway, to play with me and touch me and poke me and once, to roll masking tape all over me. i took the roll of masking tape and played with it. i slid it over my wrist and up over my elbow and all the way up to my armpit. she started laughing, and made me take it off so she could try. the roll couldn't even get to her elbow on her arm. she put it back on me and told me to make a muscle. even when it was right over the spot where my muscle is, i couldn't fill the hole when i flexed. then she took it off and started rubbing my upper arm, massaging it, and telling me, 'awww, you're so little and cute... i just want to...' and she pauses right there, leaving my mind racing while i think of all the things i want her to want to do to me... finally, she fills in, 'beat you up.'
i was so disappointed that i started laughing. it wasn't a good laugh. it was more like a laugh that should be a sob or something else if i wasn't so confused.

all night, she was poking and rubbing and touching me, and leaning against me, and all night, nothing was good enough. the policeman who everybody talks to, scott, was there. he watched most of this, and shook his head at us, and i wonder what he thinks. i wonder what art thinks. i wonder what nickolas thinks too, because later, he comes up to ask the office a question and sees me wrestle her for the masking tape, and he watches for a while, and then he goes over and starts running self-check for me, because there are people who need help and i'm too entranced by her touch to worry about them. when i finally break free (with the tape), i go back over to self-check, and he leaves without saying anything about it, and goes and asks his question. i wonder what they all think, but the scary thing is that i don't really care. i don't care if they think i'm a lesbian and i don't care if they think i want her, because if i cared, it would mean i would have to stop, and i don't want to stop. i like the way she feels. is it dumb that i'm willing to let everybody think that, just for the chance to feel her hand in my hair or her cheek against mine?

i still had the roll of masking tape when it was time for my break, so i went up there to give it back to her. more than that, i just wanted her to know i was going on break, so maybe she would decide to take a break too. she did. we went outside and so did nickolas, and scott was already out there, at the table. marie and i sat on the same bench, opposite scott. scott was tired today, and he wasn't talkative. he faced away from the table, so his back was to us. she smoked and we wrestled and it's hard to keep acting like it's all in fun and i don't want to jump her, when every time i touch her, my hormones go wild... but i manage to ignore them, and we play... she puts her foot up on the bench, and there are zippers on her shoes, and they hold the laces in. i can't really explain it, but i wanted to see what happened if you unzipped the zippers, but i couldn't do that without loosening her shoelaces. so i did that, and then i think she thought i was going to take them out, because she grabbed them and pulled them tight. i pleaded, 'come on, just loosen that up so i can un-do the zipper...'
scott, whose back was still to us, started laughing. then marie started laughing too, and told him to get his mind out of the gutter. she said, 'you only wish that's what we were talking about...'
me too. damn, i wish that's what we were talking about. i wish i could get to that zipper as easily as i could get to the ones on her shoes...
she says when i turn 21, she's going to come over to my place and we'll get drunk. i say ok. she asks really, and i say yeah. i don't think she means it, and she probably doesn't think i mean it, either.
she says something about my boyfriend will buy me beer. i ask what boyfriend. she says 'you know, your boyfriend.' i tell her i don't have a boyfriend. she asks, 'well then what do you have?'
i wonder if she thinks molly should be the answer to this question. she's not, so i can honestly tell her that i have nothing.
i play with her lighter, and she laughs at how it amuses me, and i talk about burning things and burning nickolas, and he tells me i'm a trip, and she just laughs, at everything i say, finally laughing so hard that her face is screwed up and her eyes are squinted almost shut and i look at her and she's such a minger... she really is. even if her face wasn't distored, it's not pretty. there's nothing pretty about it. i think that makes it wrong for me to want her so bad... sometimes i forget, and look at her and it's pure lust, but usually, it's like it is right now, lust mixed with disgust. i think part of what frustrates me is that the lust always wins out over the disgust.

we take 20 minutes instead of 15. i don't care. i want to take a lifetime. i don't give her back the lighter because i want her to have an excuse to touch me later.

i think i am a bit of a pyromaniac. i see the lighter, and i want to make fire. i see the fire and i want to burn stuff. so i burn stuff. i burn a paper towel (it catches on fire fast, erupts in flames, and i panic a little, but manage to get it out without too much damage to the countertop), and i burn a little bit of plastic on a shopping basket. i burn the bottom of my shoe. i burn the edges of a five dollar bill. i rip a few pieces of hair off my head and burn them. burnt hair stinks, and art smells it and comes over and makes me give him the lighter.

i go up there for change and nickolas and molly are up there and art is on the phone and marie is standing behind him, massaging his back. i watch her hands, and it looks sensual... it looks like there's nothing just-friendly about this and it's killing me. i just want to jump over the doorway and throw myself between her and art, and beg her to touch me like that...
when art hangs up, they joke about him returning the favor later tonight (wink, wink) and marie says art is her boyfriend.
nickolas says something about somebody coming to visit in a few weeks or a few months or i really forget, but it stops me dead right then, and i ask who.
i get a few words from each of them in answer, and i manage to conclude that it's a boy in the army or the navy or something like that, and he's coming to visit her soon. is he her boyfriend? does she have a boyfriend? torture. if she does or if she doesn't, this is torture.

that's all i have to say, really. i have that much to say about marie, and nothing else. i hugged rashid. it wasn't at all exciting. molly and i cooked. i still have two tons of homework to do. i still need sleep like mad crazy. none of that matters. what matters is i want marie, i hate marie, i need marie, i love it when she touches me, i hate it when she touches me, i want to scream.