Twittering
Flickring
I'm a systematically disappointing spin-off of the best friend you'll ever have and the worst enemy you'll ever make. I hate the third month of the year, I love Betty White, I fear old age, I'm a decent writer, an okay pianist, a terrible jack-in-the-box of puns and tear jerking one liners, and I can't dance.
I make every error of human reasoning, I don't break promises, I'm not a solipsist, I can't waste time, I'm a hypocrite, & a flirtatious cornucopia of cliche causes and ironic effects. My heart and my head are the same like in shrimp, and I'm begging just begging to get my heart broken by the next Byronic hero that walks by.
Give me a polar bear, and I'll give you my soul-which is nothing but a blissful reminder of why you miss childhood, and a spinning vortex of stinging insecurities and paralyzing self-doubt.
Following
Listening
I cant stand people who blame other things and people for their own problems. I mean, sure, my mom’s definitely the reason behind a lot of things, but ultimately, how I handle my own existence, is how I handle it. I’m not gonna blame it on a guy, or a horrible experience, or a fucking illness. I blame myself. If that’s a problem, it’s a problem I’m okay with.
I miss so many pieces of my past. The people I’ve dated, the friends I’ve had. Sleepovers, useless high school drama. I miss the parts I’ve played, both real and ficticious, the revenge I’ve gotten, the good deeds I’ve done.
I miss certain men a lot. Men that I can’t see, men I’ll never get back. I miss who I was the most. I don’t really remember how to be that person, so I feel like I’m stuck in an inbetween rut. A gap of confusion or something.
Sure, I’ll take a $400 paycut.
The next few months are undoubtedly some of the most important months of my life, and definitely the MOST important thus far. I just get that feeling where my head says “Eh, it’ll be okay.”
Either my heart’s inside my head, or it got lost somewhere along the way.
The sad thing is, I don’t have time to find it. I keep adding things to my plate. My eyes were always bigger than my stomach.
Grown up things are begining to matter. Finances. Eating healthy (not eating at all). Work. Fuck school. Fuck this essay that I need to write to graduate.
I think that the moment I got myself into a relationship I lost the ability to feel.
I lost everything I ever claimed I was, and everything I based myself upon.
And I don’t feel scared, or trapped. But I just don’t know how to get out of it.
Maybe I’m so FUCKING bored all the time and I have absolutely no idea where the fuck my life is going or what I’m even doing, having one tack pinned to the map is nice to have.
Seeing as how there are so many people and things that I miss, tacks were once a good thing.
And apparently, they fall out after a while.
Since I can’t pull this one out I might as well wait for it to fall.
Who knows.
Comments
Here you can embed a comment system of your choice, such as Disqus or Haloscan. By default, comments will only be enabled on posts tagged enablecomments. More information here.