2005-02-02 - 2:20 p.m.
A few days ago, Nina IMed me that she couldn't access this journal. Now, I really can't think why this would be upsetting in the least, but hey, life is full of surprises, eh? The problem has been fixed, obviously.
Here's to you, and all the other crazy meat-boy lovers!
There's a store we go to that's down a few blocks
It has high-priced goods like prosciutto and lox
But we don't give a crap about their expensive buys
We go there to stare at the meat counter guys
...um, yeah. It's embarrassingly silly, so I'm gonna cut it short there.
This is nonsense. I write nonsense. What goes through my mind is just a bunch of non-sense - everything that is the opposite of sense. It's like a total 540, but not, because my brain can't even make it through the full rotation. By the way, my mouth is disconnected from my brain. Wait for the tone, and leave a message. No, that's broken, too.
I've already filled two pages of my new notebook with miniscule printing that means nothing more than boredom and desperation. Stare at the girl in the back corner of the room, writing incessantly until she notices you staring and honors you with a glare. It's my diary, fool. I have a heart-shaped locked on it with a matching, heart-shaped key. Never mind the fact that it seems just a cheap, ugly notebook with five sections and a clearance sticker still on the cover, and I'm taking down notes from the board and the lecture. No, I'm not just scribbling in the back for fun. You're delusional. This is all about you. It's all about I Hate You.
It really does seem to be about, "I may hate myself in the morning, but I'm gonna love you tonight". We've heard it before. You know that song. I just hate that it's so right.
The sun's shining and it's perfect outside. It should stop taunting me. It's begging me to go outside and take a walk, or go for a run, but I know it's cold out there. It's cold in here, too.
You know, Rory from Gilmore Girls should stop chasing after smarmy assholes. And then I'm a hypocrite. I make a fool out of myself by doing the same. Luckily, I've learned not to get my hopes up.
"Is anybody without a dream? Break me down 'til I stop again." - Teen Heroes, "Without a Dream"
�
�
