Look over my shoulder. I dare you.
That is what I'm scared of.
My lazy eye is scary; my fucking lazy eye makes me scared to look you in the face. Teachers, up front, sometimes look over my shoulder in another sense because they don't want to catch my eye because the snapping eye click pops my right eye out of line sometimes. Of course, the anticipation hightens senses; it needs to.
Take in breath.
Breathe.
I love eye contact. Sanctual, no more than four inches eye contact! Learning Support in league with my politics tutor, and he's the principle, and I am paranoid, (and learning to not abriviate and BE WHOLE) accuse me of being a private person! I am a public person.
This is a journal, isn't it.
And words are abstract. Words are stick people twisted. So punctuation is not what silence looks like, love is not L O V E or 'heart' it's
and the only way to ever really know, and to ever really write, is to live.
Suicide Nothin'.
Suicide no comments made. Suicide "Fat Girl"; does this help? Is vacuum.
Is vacuum with wires.
-Suicide tangent.
Suicide Tangent
and all for the best?
Doing anything is irrisponsible
and doing nothing just as bad.
We are back to suicide and the best trick the devil ever pulled was to convince the world he didn't exist but look how useful sociological study is and that was invented by atheists.
Myself? I'm slippery.