I'm down to two clean pages in my little journal, so...
It's that time, again:
i'm afraid of commitment. i'm afraid to express my feelings.
I think those two are interconnected. I cant help but think of turtles.
i'm way too good at lying. Lying's just switching words, acting the opposite of the way you wanna act. Sometimes exaggerating.
Instead of saying a coat looks stupid, the coat looks nice.
No, really, tight and fadedthat's a good look. You look (retarded, cheep, retarded, fat, retarded, rustic) rustic.
And at only 15 dollars?! Lucky!
Smile so hard that it hurts.
Hold your breath for that urgency.
Make eye-contact.
Gesticulate.
Believe what your saying.
Easy-peasy.
Instead of saying yr friend is pissed cos he didnt get laid and that yr in a rush to get over there, you know, to talk it over, you say your friend is distraught over a girl.
And you're worried.
And, honest, you were trying to keep it under 65, you were just in a hurry.
Explain the situation vaguely, but in a very definite, real way. Admit you did something wrong, admit you meant to do it, apologize.
I know what i did was wrong, it was a risk, but the circumstances warranted the risk.
I'm sorry.
No more detailit's personal and you're in a hurry.
I wish for one week i could be normal. Think normally, talk normally, act normally.
I wish i didnt watch movies like a product.
I wish i could talk about how i feel and not be afraid of rejection...or a word with similar connotations.
I wish i could communicate in an honest way.
I wish i was more free.
I wish people could see how i see so they could understand my confidence.
I wish i didnt feel like a burden tag-along annoyance.
I wish i could make a decision and stick to itreception be damned.
I wish i was more honest with myself.
I wish i had more motivation, and sometimes i wish i was in better shape.
I wish i had to balls to do what i want.
I wish i would act on my fucking instincts.
Damnit.
I wish i was Santa Claus.
It's that time, again:
i'm afraid of commitment. i'm afraid to express my feelings.
I think those two are interconnected. I cant help but think of turtles.
i'm way too good at lying. Lying's just switching words, acting the opposite of the way you wanna act. Sometimes exaggerating.
Instead of saying a coat looks stupid, the coat looks nice.
No, really, tight and fadedthat's a good look. You look (retarded, cheep, retarded, fat, retarded, rustic) rustic.
And at only 15 dollars?! Lucky!
Smile so hard that it hurts.
Hold your breath for that urgency.
Make eye-contact.
Gesticulate.
Believe what your saying.
Easy-peasy.
Instead of saying yr friend is pissed cos he didnt get laid and that yr in a rush to get over there, you know, to talk it over, you say your friend is distraught over a girl.
And you're worried.
And, honest, you were trying to keep it under 65, you were just in a hurry.
Explain the situation vaguely, but in a very definite, real way. Admit you did something wrong, admit you meant to do it, apologize.
I know what i did was wrong, it was a risk, but the circumstances warranted the risk.
I'm sorry.
No more detailit's personal and you're in a hurry.
I wish for one week i could be normal. Think normally, talk normally, act normally.
I wish i didnt watch movies like a product.
I wish i could talk about how i feel and not be afraid of rejection...or a word with similar connotations.
I wish i could communicate in an honest way.
I wish i was more free.
I wish people could see how i see so they could understand my confidence.
I wish i didnt feel like a burden tag-along annoyance.
I wish i could make a decision and stick to itreception be damned.
I wish i was more honest with myself.
I wish i had more motivation, and sometimes i wish i was in better shape.
I wish i had to balls to do what i want.
I wish i would act on my fucking instincts.
Damnit.
I wish i was Santa Claus.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
but, i do find constructive ways to tell the truth, "what do you think of this sweater?" i pause. think. well, it makes you look like a very pale sausage encased in a very pale sweater. but i say, "honey, i think you shouldn't like what that sweater makes your stomach look like." she told that story at parties/gatherings/work for at least six months afterward, praising my brutal honesty.
i also recoil with lightning speed away from liars. of any kind. in fact, the casual liar is the worst, because those are the lies that are easy not to tell.
your never a tag a along, and as far as i know we always have a good time together.