Stop feeling like that about yourself! I’ve been there and I did the dying thing and I was lucky enough to have been found before it was too late. You are worth living! You owe Someone out there the pleasure of meeting you some day. Love living.
Things survived so far: taking the wrong train back to queens, blasting music so loud I missed the announcemnts, leaving umbrella on such train, pouring rain, oh and I have flour on my hair and you know what that turns into when wet… It just 10AM.. :)
One day imma meet a boy that sings like Gavin rossdale and I will give him my heart an my ass and my shoe closet and keys to my apartment and my left boob
“Did you exchange a walk on part on the war for a lead role in a cage…” -Pink Floyd
So I agreed to go on a non date with the x. Why am I doing this again? This kid ripped my life apart, blasted grenades on my chest that bounced off the walls and burned my self steem and my eyelashes. I believe it was more my ego bruised than anything else since I am certain I didn’t love him. But still. Those tears are lost now and he did that to me. Maybe we want to believe there’s something still beneath the surface, Maybe I’m doing this out of revenge, maybe I wanna know if I can do half the damage he did to me. It’s amazing but he attempted to kiss me the last time he surfaced and I didn’t even remember how to move my lips for him. I didn’t feel a single hint of feeling and it’s scaring me. Maybe I’m Empty. Maybe I finally became the jaded shell I pushed so hard to be when it was easier not to feel than to melt into tears everytime I remembered his bones. Fucking shit. I’m over him. I didn’t even put on makeup to listen to whatever he needs to speak to me about, for all that I know it’s money he needs or he misses me. Makes no difference. As I type I realize I don’t really care and mere curiosity makes my legs walk up to him. Curiosity as to if his voice is the same as I remembered… It hasn’t been that long. I act like I’m this midlife divorcee.. I’m only 27 and my life is amazing because I make it amazing. I’m sad and angry sometimes but I still enjoy myself. And I have come to realize I’m pretty fascinating.
Ok me. Im impossibly disorganized and forgetful. Im clumsy. I cant cook but seem to forget i cant do it and insist on cooking which is usually cause for fire alarms to turn on. I’m bossy and controlling, situations need to go my way and it’s awful. I’m a big baby and demand attention. I can’t lie. I can’t flirt. I can’t smoke. I drink wine and beer (yuengling) sometimes. I like old music. I dunno anything about new artists. I hate hip hop. I’m the best friend for all my girlfriends. I don’t believe In guy friends, I do have some but I don’t do “innocent sleepovers”. I love rock. I think Im fun and a bit out of hands sometimes. Everyone that I kno seems to like me, I don’t do games and I don’t date anymore. I’m kinda really enjoying being single and loving being alone sometimes and taking care of myself. I live alone. I don’t have pets but I luv animals. I talk a lot but i love asking questions. Im generally happy and passionate. And i think id rock your world.
Right when the saxophone starts talking dirty to me, i smile sly and winking cause i know that only tonight ill feel exactly what im feeling now cause every happiness is different and every smile never the same
“The young maricones and the horny muchachas,
The big fat widows delirious from insomnia,
The young wives thirty hours’ pregnant,
And the hoarse tomcats that cross my garden at night,
Like a collar of palpitating sexual oysters
Surround my solitary home,
Enemies of my soul,
Conspirators in pajamas
Who exchange deep kisses for passwords.
Radiant summer brings out the lovers
In melancholy regiments,
Fat and thin and happy and sad couples;
Under the elegant coconut palms, near the ocean and moon,
There is a continual life of pants and panties,
A hum from the fondling of silk stockings,
And women’s breasts that glisten like eyes.
The salary man, after a while,
After the week’s tedium, and the novels read in bed at night,
Has decisively fucked his neighbor,
And now takes her to the miserable movies,
Where the heroes are horses or passionate princes,
And he caresses her legs covered with sweet down
With his ardent and sweaty palms that smell like cigarettes.
The night of the hunter and the night of the husband
Come together like bed sheets and bury me,
And the hours after lunch, when the students and priests are masturbating,
And the animals mount each other openly,
And the bees smell of blood, and the flies buzz cholerically,
And cousins play strange games with cousins,
And doctors glower at the husband of the young patient,
And the early morning in which the professor, without a thought,
Pays his conjugal debt and eats breakfast,
And to top it all off, the adulterers, who love each other truly
On beds big and tall as ships:
So, eternally,
This twisted and breathing forest crushes me
With gigantic flowers like mouth and teeth
And black roots like fingernails and shoes.”— Pablo Neruda
