2005-11-28 - 12:13 p.m.
"If you see me, please don't hit me. If you could pick me up, I'd be the one looking up." - Hagfish, "Bullet"
Black. Bleak. Failed attempts at human interaction. I can't do this. Another class, another chance, another day I choked. The thing is, talent doesn't mean shit, especially when you don't care. You'd care if they said you were shit instead of the shit. Funny how one word makes a difference.
My stomach is full of... air. At least it's full. These toe tappers and whistlers kill me every single time. They can't possibly know how much they make me smile because they're oblivious and they don't care who cares. You're not supposed to care but you do. You're not some hollow, insensitive bitch. You always shield yourself. Sneer. Scowl. You keep them at bay to keep your emotions away.
It should have ended. Everything should have ended right away. It lingers. It's painful. Add more stress. Here comes the acne. Your skin is angry. Your body hates you. Scrapes and scars. You cut yourself when you don't want to cut yourself, because it's not on purpose, and it's funny how it goes down that way. Stay away from vegetable peelers and graters. Girl, you're one walking accident. You're trouble, you are. Watch where you're going.
Dread and anxiety go hand in hand. Parallelism. Oh. No.
"Every girl that I ever hated was just a monster that I created. Maybe if I close my eyes real tight, then the scary, sad things will go away and I'll quit living in yesterday." - ALL, "Scary Sad"
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