this is me at 25:
now the birthday excitement has passed i've returned to my daily routine of (lack of)sleep, intense paranoia, hypocritical tendencies and raging insecurity.
nothing ever really does change. that's the one thing i'm sure of.
or maybe it's the fact that i never change and i never learn that makes me feel like i'm in a permenant state of deja vu.
i can't for the life of me figure out why i keep wanting to know people. as much as i hate 99.9% of the people on this planet, if i find a good one, i'll hold on tight. til they break. or until i do.
i want to pour myself into them and let them know how special they are...for just...not being an asshole
i feel like walking into the middle of the desert and just laying there.
haha. i don't even know what i'm trying to say. sometimes i don't even know why i write in this thing. this should all be confined to a real life journal, one made of paper that can be burned and forgotten or have the pages torn out and tossed into a river. probably in the rain, whilst i weep a solitary tear and the violins rise and i fade to black.
my apologies to anyone who read this far. even though i obviously wanted you to read it or i would of just put it in my real-life 3-d journal.
ok, yeah, i will shut up now.
xx
now the birthday excitement has passed i've returned to my daily routine of (lack of)sleep, intense paranoia, hypocritical tendencies and raging insecurity.
nothing ever really does change. that's the one thing i'm sure of.
or maybe it's the fact that i never change and i never learn that makes me feel like i'm in a permenant state of deja vu.
i can't for the life of me figure out why i keep wanting to know people. as much as i hate 99.9% of the people on this planet, if i find a good one, i'll hold on tight. til they break. or until i do.
i want to pour myself into them and let them know how special they are...for just...not being an asshole
i feel like walking into the middle of the desert and just laying there.
haha. i don't even know what i'm trying to say. sometimes i don't even know why i write in this thing. this should all be confined to a real life journal, one made of paper that can be burned and forgotten or have the pages torn out and tossed into a river. probably in the rain, whilst i weep a solitary tear and the violins rise and i fade to black.
my apologies to anyone who read this far. even though i obviously wanted you to read it or i would of just put it in my real-life 3-d journal.
ok, yeah, i will shut up now.
xx
I get the raging bitterness fairly often because the few friends I've made all live in london, or Cheltenham, or the fucking moon - them being so far away means i cant fawn all over them like a spooky auntie. Grr!
middle of the desert? laying down?
A friend and i, whilst coming back from a costume party, decided we would just lay down in the middle of a dark road.
He was dressed as john lennon. I was dressed as Marilyn manson.
We figured, if we were killed - it would make for the best headline our shitty fucking town ever had.