saturn1

i'm about to go che-guevera-type ape shit on someone. make a bootleg gucci-lookin purse out of the skin from my ankles, search & destroy with my motherfuckin prada shoes on and angst via my cliche politics.


you know, i'm fine when i can live my life. why the fuck can't i live my life? if i fuck it up, it's not on you, ok?

yeah yeah so you love me. i warned you. i told you i was complicated. i told you i was in a shitty time in my life. i was actually hitting bottom while you were reciting 'nice to meet you' - why would you even think of it?

i wasn't going to stop you. i needed to be loved. like NEEDED to be loved. i'm sorry. i really am. i did all this shit by the book so as to not hurt you, but you're insisting huh? everything i touch becomes sadistic in some fucked up i-am-the-truth way.


but i warned you. i'm a different person now. that ugly bruised wounded me has healed a lot. i can not do this anymore.

please don't drive me into being the person i was. i hated her. she hated everything. please. don't. i am so happy now without this. let it go away. don't become her.

life is sick sometimes.

my grandmother just called and asked me if i was on some spaceship wandering around wondering where i was wanting to know why the telephone won't stop ringing. God, i understand what she meant. life is so good, why does the ugliness persist?

it's like a silly joke.