But I love you.
I hate myself. I cannot make the people I like like me back: friends, boys, girls, anyone. I only end up admiring them from a distance. Someone put me out of my misery, me and the life I'll never have. I hate hate hate myself, but not enough tonight to make any deep wounds. I feel like a pansy. I wish I could cut myself. The pain must not be real enough yet. I can't want to do it, it just has to happen. No right, no wrong. Fuck, I ruin EVERYTHING. I hate myself more than you can imagine. I hate everything about myself, worst of all that I am stuck inside this fucking person for the rest of my life. I am letting a monster rule my life. Let's face the facts: nobody likes me at all, except for the people I hate. Fuck this. There are no words for this. Just fuck this.
Hello, Seattle.
I am an albatross.
What Do You Want To Know?
- grey.skies.dark.lies
- I decided this "About Me" needed an update. I am not the same person I was 2 years ago. I'm not the same person I was 2 days ago, in fact. The person I am now? I love math. Shamelessly. If math were a person, I would kill to be his loving wife. I love food, on and off. Some days I wake up with a pure hate for food, some days we are the best of friends down in my belly. I am weird, and the concept of being "normal" is abhorrent and repulsive. I like big words that no one uses, like dodtrantal. It means "nine inches in length." Just a fact. I am a lazy student, but I have a master plan to become valedictorian and attend an Ivy League school. Somehow. I adore adore adore Regina Spektor and about a million other bands. I love strangers because I love to hear their stories and life information. I love sharing my stories and life information. I basically have a tepid yet fervent relationship with life that I am quite content with. Now, all of this will change within a week; I guarantee.
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