Wait till 2015.
Wait till 2015.
Not even a chainsaw can separate us. We’d be cut in half, but we’d still be in love.
I’m realizing how dependent I am.
And it sucks. My emotions, when only experienced by me, make me sick.
I cry when I shower because that’s the only time I think about what I’ve really done.
I sit there and think about how much of a fuck-up I really am.
My friends constantly call me stupid, and you know what? I probably am.
Gotta love the absence of my pre-frontal cortex.
Frankly, I don’t think judgement skills could save me.
I don’t sleep. I have insomnia, but I take pills. I don’t sleep because I subconciously want to punish myself. Mission accomplished: I’ve been sick since June.
I overthink everything. I say I too much. I’m a selfish bitch. I wish I could make people happier than they are but I fail to do that. All I’ve got is empathy. I can help people feel better sometimes, letting them know they’re not alone, yet I experience loneliness that can only be eased through the presence of a guy. And I hate it. I hate that I need that.
I miss all the people I don’t talk to anymore. And I tried my best to be nice to all the people that were teased when I was younger; the ones I made fun of to the people I wanted to fit in with, though, I never fit in anyway. Being dark and chubs never really worked in my favor.
“The bad stuff is easier to believe, you ever notice that?”
Why yes, Julia. I did. And so I’m to believe I’m dumb, ugly, obnoxious, loud, and intimidating.
And those adjectives get me through the day.
No wonder I’m so lonely.
GASTON: “LeFou I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…”
my mind. because that’s what I’m thinking right now.
LEFOU: “A dangerous pastime…”
GASTON: “I KNOW.
What exactly does he want?
I’ve given him that.
This is what I always get.
And this is what I’ve always wanted.
But my wants and needs are always forgotten.
So I get a few false words and minimal pleasure, and it always ends like this—
I’m really stupid.
Damnit Harlow. Parents—Peers—Partners. I’m already at the end.
Can people change? Is it really different this time?
I’d really love to know. I’m as impatient as ever. Impatient on whether this will ultimately end terribly like things always do. Anticipating an end always feels like when I drive back home. I know I’m always gonna make it there. And when I get there, my heart sinks because I’m in love with my independence too much. And when I make it to the inevitable end this time, my heart will sink because I was treated terribly once again. Or because I was treated well, and I won’t be anymore.
I’m too nice. I give people more chances way too easily. It’s hard for me to reject others who are so in raptures with me. But still, I complain endlessly about not being liked. Specifically not being liked by people I actually like.
And that’s why I’m so insanely scared now. This is the first [technically second] time I’ve experienced the mutual likeness with someone; same guy, but maybe it will be successful this time.
I already gave myself up. I already made it emotional.
I already am attached.
I’m not attached. I refuse to let it get to that point, at least right now.
Behavior is hard to decipher. If I’m going to be broken again, I’d like to know now.
I’m cursed. I’m not far enough along in my life to actually have someone want to really get involved with me.
Attachment is a bitch.
oblique crunch what upppp
long arm crunch.
half curl. lengthy, eh?
crossover crunch. i’ve been doing this wrong.
superman…. …. … .. .