"So what do we do now?"
"Iono, whatever we want. I'm not going to overanalyze it."
And with these words my fate was sealed. Next stop: certain doom.
Of course I realize that this is a purposeful seduction. The sweet and innocent guise is just that. A facade. She's playing off of my hesitancy.
I always find myself falling for these strange little girls. It's an odd pattern. I never realize they have these deep seated emotional problems until it's too late. I'm already falling for them.
How ws I supposed to know she was suicidal, or bulemic, or diagnosed with bipolar disorder, or ADHD, or any of the many many things it has been in the past.
The sad thing is that once I do find out, I don't get out. I fall for them even harder. I'm sure this has something to do with how fucked up I am myself. I fall for them because they're just like me, which is probably not such a good idea. You know like gasoline on a fire.
This one likes to call herself a Beautiful Disaster. If only she knew that was the story of my life. I never heed the warning signs. Even when the onlookers stand there screaming from the sidelines. Me and my fucking tunnekl vision. Me and my fucking longing for a co-dependent relationship. Me and my stupid ass. What is wrong with me?
And this is just one of the many, many reasons this is a bad idea.
Anyway, for those of you who have been keeping up with the journal, I'm sure you realize I've got some issues with my family right now.
Well my grandmother wants to know when I'm coming to get my Christmas gifts. I have half a mind to tell her I don't want them, but I'm really curious to see what they got me.
Not because I'm greedy or anything like that, but I'm just curious because year after year they prove how much they don't have the slightest clue about who i am.
Like the year my mom got me an outdated and virtually obsolete gameboy, even though I hadn't touched a joystick in at least 5 years. Or the time they sent me a bunch of clothes based on the idea that I'd be impressed by the emblazoning of designer logo's all over them. (I know you like to wear Hugo Boss right?) Jesus fucking Christ. Have you even tried to get to know me since I got out of junior high?
What the fuck. Even if they give me something that I need, I'm tempted to sell it just to get a different version, but that's just spite talking.
I really wish I wasn't so fucked up. But then again it only fits with the tortured artist persona that I oh so try to emulate. I'm such a fuckin' poser. Somebody put me in my place please.
NOW DEAL WITH THAT ALISTAIRMATHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"Iono, whatever we want. I'm not going to overanalyze it."
And with these words my fate was sealed. Next stop: certain doom.
Of course I realize that this is a purposeful seduction. The sweet and innocent guise is just that. A facade. She's playing off of my hesitancy.
I always find myself falling for these strange little girls. It's an odd pattern. I never realize they have these deep seated emotional problems until it's too late. I'm already falling for them.
How ws I supposed to know she was suicidal, or bulemic, or diagnosed with bipolar disorder, or ADHD, or any of the many many things it has been in the past.
The sad thing is that once I do find out, I don't get out. I fall for them even harder. I'm sure this has something to do with how fucked up I am myself. I fall for them because they're just like me, which is probably not such a good idea. You know like gasoline on a fire.
This one likes to call herself a Beautiful Disaster. If only she knew that was the story of my life. I never heed the warning signs. Even when the onlookers stand there screaming from the sidelines. Me and my fucking tunnekl vision. Me and my fucking longing for a co-dependent relationship. Me and my stupid ass. What is wrong with me?
And this is just one of the many, many reasons this is a bad idea.
Anyway, for those of you who have been keeping up with the journal, I'm sure you realize I've got some issues with my family right now.
Well my grandmother wants to know when I'm coming to get my Christmas gifts. I have half a mind to tell her I don't want them, but I'm really curious to see what they got me.
Not because I'm greedy or anything like that, but I'm just curious because year after year they prove how much they don't have the slightest clue about who i am.
Like the year my mom got me an outdated and virtually obsolete gameboy, even though I hadn't touched a joystick in at least 5 years. Or the time they sent me a bunch of clothes based on the idea that I'd be impressed by the emblazoning of designer logo's all over them. (I know you like to wear Hugo Boss right?) Jesus fucking Christ. Have you even tried to get to know me since I got out of junior high?
What the fuck. Even if they give me something that I need, I'm tempted to sell it just to get a different version, but that's just spite talking.
I really wish I wasn't so fucked up. But then again it only fits with the tortured artist persona that I oh so try to emulate. I'm such a fuckin' poser. Somebody put me in my place please.
NOW DEAL WITH THAT ALISTAIRMATHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
kurtz:
ok, stop being a whiny dick..... the fightpit told me to say that...... he said we'd be blood brothers or something...... you spill it first....... and i do remember you from jr. high......
exit_stencil:
yo i'm not that good at reading right now. just wanted to say what up and peace to the streets. later.