2005-04-22 - 6:16 p.m.
"Feel that lack inside, so full of compromise. You've got to throw it away. Mental barricade your insecurites. You've got to throw them away. Rebuild the strength to be your own." - Enemies, "Something To Lose"
See, here's the thing: I'm a little strange and you know it. I get more than a little depressed, I must confess. Barely functional, but you wouldn't know the difference. You don't look close enough to see what's going on inside of me. Breaking point. There's a point where you have to question how far it goes. If you're that passionate, shouldn't it overshadow all the other temptations out there? Perhaps that's why you're so hesitant - you're not sure if it means the world. You had to let go to sidestep the torture. Blindsided. Frightened of everything, with a tough girl wall to bulldoze whatever comes your way.
It's such a burden, this whole figuring out what you want thing. Screw it. You're not eating. Your logic is so fucked that you can't even deal with meals. You should've established a routine by now. All you ever really wanted was to be normal. Normal people eat. Normal people converse. You have trouble with both of those, and you make yourself sick. Literally. Figuratively. You don't eat, and then you feel sick. You eat, and you feel guilty and sick. Inadequate. Never good enough for anything. You were tired of being fat. You wanted to be tiny and cute, and you thought it was the way to do it. Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't. Keep yourself caged in. As long as you deny yourself access, it's easy. It's true that you obsess about food, whether eating or nor eating. That's so sick. You haven't eaten since yesterday. Kill me.
Slut. Tramp. Skank. Whore. Not me.
You'd think that intelligence would count for something. It's funny how you poison yourself with these thoughts you can't escape.
"I'll buy you popcorn and candy," says Flashlight Brown, "They will make you fat and ugly, and no other boy will look your way..."
Fear. Death. Spinster?
Bone number 230329075 to pick: There's no point in pretending to be romantic when you're really, really not. You should find someone you can love, and not someone you use. A warm body to hold at night isn't everything. You can't play the game without breaking hearts along the way. Say that she's using you, too. Listen to "Dog and Pony Show" and get back to me. You can't fuck around when it comes to others' emotions. Can't be selfish. Disillusioned. Pretend that you don't care about the ideals perpetuated by the media, by your idiot peers. You're just desperate. It's not a healthy relationship when you'd leave her for another girl, when you'd leave her as soon as the convenience is gone, when you'd leave her once the novelty wears off. Ass.
"Sitting here and reading your thoughts, my heart sinks once again 'cause I caught you in another lie. I find no truth in what you said: you say that you'll hurt my feelings, you say I won't understand. I say you're just a coward, just a counterfeit friend." - Much the Same, "Masquerade"
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