I rarely find reason to write anymore.
It's not because I have nothing to write about, god, no.
It's because there are so many things in my head...
That it's really difficult to pull one out and elaborate on it.

Every thought is unoriginal.
I'm fairly sure I've thought all of them before.

This song is so good.
I wish I had the capacity to type out the lyrics.

[Why can't you come out and say it?]

I don't get what I'm doing here. Usually, I can pick my target, hover around it for a couple of days, then make it torturously apparent that I might be interested.
Then, it happens, and that's how it goes. I always get it pretty much all right.
I always make it obvious, but not so obvious that they think they might have a shot.

Right now, I feel stupid and like I'm either making it too obvious or not obvious at all. Or maybe they suspect, but don't care enough to engage.
The designer says I'm a fighter, but I can't feel my fucking legs.

Come out and say it.
Why can't you come out and say it?

Maybe this is a totally stupid idea. Maybe the stigma and the apathy is still there from eighth grade. Maybe it's still like that. Four years later, and we're still in the same place.
But we can't be. We've both grown enough to realize how stupid that is.

And you can only be SO similar to a person that you think is cool and good-looking without actually being interested, right?

The sound of dialogue, translated by a hack...
She still has time to surprise attack.

This year is bizzare. I feel like I'm floating around everything I do, and not actually engaging in it.

Right now I'm totally tuned out because of this song.
But I can't feel my fucking legs.

She still has time to surprise attack.

Why can't you come out and say it?

I know that it's sad
But you know, hah, it's true.
The only reason I stay awake,
is so I can talk to you.

Repetition of stigmas.

I am breaking it. I have broken it. It is broken.

I am fully capable.

My veins are on fire.
I have an incendiary circulatory system.
My blood is in flames.
Make me burn.
There's fire inside me.
Fuck extinguishers.

I have written so many blogs on how I
"feel",
That I'm starting to doubt the fact
that I "feel"
that way.

It was kind of like a bad dream.
I picked up the phone, thought everything was fixed, finally, but in reality, everything was so much worse.
You know that really bad cliche, "walls came tumbling down" or whatever?
It was like that, only it wasn't just walls, it was the floor and the ceiling, too. So I'm left, like, sitting on chairs in my front yard.
I feel completely naked and exposed. I put myself out there. If love were real...
Maybe love is just this fake word for really, really liking somebody. Either way. Maybe I loved him. Maybe I didn't. Either way, that hurt. A lot.
The worst part was when he told me that is was my fault, because he couldn't trust me.
I don't want to be with him again when he's gone. I don't want to be his friend right now. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want him to know that he actually affected me, but that crazy part of me wants to demonstrate every single day how much I hate him.
If he would just come back...
I'm just so confused. I hate him.
If he hadn't told me that...
I knew something was wrong. I just didn't know it was this wrong.
I want to cry again.

"Bing Crosby"

I thought of you every day. Every second of every day.
And then after awhile, I stopped.
And then we both stopped.
And now you're going away forever.
And I am not supposed to feel like I want that back.
I know better, I don't like you again. I don't want you back in my life.
It just makes me sad that you're leaving,
And with you,
you're taking a giant piece of my identity.
Every day I thought about you.
You were the center of my attention, you were what I smiled about.
For almost eight months. Do you know how long that is?
Do you remember? You know.
You know every part of me. Or, you did.
Maybe you forgot.
God, that would kill me.
Why? I'm not sure. I still remember all of you.
I remember it every day.
No, I don't want you back.
No, I don't want you back here.
But every time
My eyes well up
And I think, "Christ, this is stupid."
But I can't stop, because I miss how happy I was with you.
Every single time I was with you, at your house, in your room,
At the movies, at school, touching me, touching you
I remember it all, every day, and I remember that I
Was the happiest I've ever been, even if maybe
At the time
I didn't really know that.
And now your heart and your brain,
[God, you're so like me.]
They're taking off and going to [where?]
Vermont, like you said you would.
I'm proud of you. I'm so happy you've grown like you have.
But I will always miss you.
You will always be this weird, locked-up part of me
And I will never have the closure
Needed
To stop crying about it.

I just might kill myself.

Not really. Suicide ain't my gig.

But he's sitting right beside me and I just want to jump in a pool of hot lava and never, ever everevevrevervrvevervevrervr come out.

I hate him so much, and every time I see him with her, I want to puke even though I know he just told me that he loves? loved? loves? me?

maybe he changed his fucking mind.

I hate him. I look so stupid right now. Stupid and stupid.

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

I BET SOME OF YOUR FUCKING STUPID FRIENDS DYED YOUR FUCKING STUPID HAIR YOU LOOK STUPID