Hey Jupiter

No one's picking up the phone
guess it's clear he's gone
and this little masochist
is lifting up her dress
guess i thought
i could never feel the things i feel
hey Jupiter
nothing's been the same
so are you safe
now we're through
thought we both could use a friend to run to

I still love Tori. After all these years, she can still feel the pain of some black boy who grew up with nothing but wanted everything, who fights, day after day, the simple wars, the ones that destroy.

A masochist is one who gains gratification gained from pain, deprivation, and degradation that is inflicted or imposed on oneself, either as a result of one's own actions or the actions of others. A masochist usually seeks this form of gratification. Jupiter, the little masochist lifts up her dress and she feels. So when Jupiter lifts up her dress, she opens herself up to more pain. She invites the pain in.

What’s wrong with Jupiter? Can she not feel anymore because she has felt too much or has she died a different kind of death…the death of Ivan Ilyich?

Who is this masochist? Who is Jupiter? I think we all have a little Jupiter inside of us.

In many ways I felt that I was Jupiter

I was Jupiter when everyone cried and I sat still, untouched, and locked.

I was Jupiter when he moved away, after very little notice, and then insisted that we play the pretend game.

I was Jupiter when I turned down going out with polite and nice (but average) for cruel and nasty (but beautiful).

I was Jupiter when I stayed in bed to escape the 9-5 routine.

I was Jupiter when I couldn’t relate to his tears because I have known deeper cuts, deeper struggles, deeper battles.

I was Jupiter when I have to deal with that ignorant confederate boss, every single day, smiling, biting my tongue, looking into her blue eyes that reject everything about me…. And I reject her….and every time we play this game of façades just to get alone…well it takes me to considerable lengths

I was Jupiter when I made a 99 and everyone thought that I should be happy.

So if I am like the masochist… If we are all like the masochist… Do we keep lifting, running, feeling? I suppose that in retrospect when the boots leave a mess on a heart that’s soaking wet, that in all that breakdown there will be beauty. Jupiter does not know it yet. I don’t either.

P.S She’s keeping the baby. It’s all coming out. Everything. From the Inside.