2006-04-15 - 10:11 a.m.
"For crying out loud, keep your pants on 'cause I can't show you how to distinguish between what's right and what is right now." - The Frisk, "Scream My Name"
I give up. I'm better than that. Realign your thought process. It's never as simple as saying it. You'd scream three words and they wouldn't be anything like Olive Juice. You are that girl. You care too much. Fucker. Artsy music wonk. Frankie Lymon knew all about it.
So here we are again, at the beginning, stuck in a SJ song, with teen angst at the forefront. No. No. Your strength has always been in the fact that you don't lie to yourself. You're a fuckup - so what? You can't have what you want, at least not when it concerns an actual person. Anything else, fair game. You're a smart good girl. You can't change the way you feel. You can't change feeling like the biggest loser in the world when it comes to that game. So go charm someone else. Problem: You don't know how. Maybe you should've paid attention in middle school, when every other girl figured it out, but you were too busy reading the unabridged Les Miserables for the seventh time. Face it. You're not meant to be in the game. Go back to your books, your libraries, the solace in music. Don't cringe when you have to wear your glasses. It's where you're most comfortable. Maybe you're not that happy, but you never were, anyway. Well, maybe you were. Don't think back. You destroyed it. He destroyed it.
You can smile at them, but they wouldn't understand. I'm a simple girl full of fucked up complexities.
"Girl, I hate to see you get stung by wells of worthless spit from their tongues.." - The Influents, "Legions of Their Lame"
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