Truth be told I haven’t been feeling that many emotions that inspire the little neurotic in me to explain every kittle detail. School work, burying myself in others company simply to observe their behavior, and sleeping.
Oh, and I think about sex way mire than a girl should. That’s about it.
If these city lights represented the words and thoughts that are slowly being compressed into this air tight space I’ve given it, then I should really think about letting them out. Illumination of these thousands of lights give me the impression that I’m searching for a concept that will give them all meaning. Starving for an explanation to label as my food for thought. The great contrast between the shining lights and the darken sky, though it may sound cliche, give me a sense of peace somehow. Because in comparison to the things I want to let out, I have this other side of emptiness. I could view it as a negative, but I’ll try to contort it as what I’ll strive for. Or possibly, what really is going on. Perhaps I’m just focusing on having something there to express that I put all this stress and pressure and cause a beautiful mess to explode in my mind, creating a life that becomes almost unbearable to live.
Perhaps I’ll just stay with my empty sky with the occasional shining star. Simplicity is beauty, perhaps.
I have an ugly heart, an ugly body, ugly personality, ugly face, ugly hair…this can continue, but the level of self pity is so nauseating that I will stop at that. Seriously, effort will be put in. Why is everyone content? Shit, it’s like… Fuck. I sound fucking selfish writing this shit. And it’s not even like I don’t get off my ass and try to change. I do. I swear. Biological make up prohibits me from attaining the goals I wan to achieve. I’ve constantly struggled with this battle and it makes up the reason why I behave the way I do.
Maaaaaaan…….
Today I begin my cleanse. And here I can post of it and bitch all I want. Feels good to leave that other blog rotting away. Things start feeling weird when people expect certain things from you. Especially regarding written pieces. They’re constructed for my personal well being for a sense at a peace of mind. Impressing strangers and catering to their expectations just wasn’t my thing.
In a drunken midst, I walked up to a guy and asked him for directions to a house party. He’s in my graduating class and I had seen him before. Something always deemed him as strange to me.
Immediately we began flirting. I looked in his blue eyes and found myself then looking at him biting his lips and getting closer. It’s a natural habit of mine, and yet it felt contagious so I proceeded to do the same. Suddenly we were so close to each other, “play arguing” about our hometowns, and how each was tougher than the others. It’s always the capital versus the city.
My friend interrupted before hormones overrode sense.
Mixed boys are my kryptonite, I swear. They’ll be the death of me.
Getting too use to the solitude. Manipulating men’s feeling by taking advantage of their hormones is too easy. They disgust me, honestly.
The next guy I ever talk to will be my future husband. I’m not wasting time on these fucking idiots.
