"details, woman."
I will try, but not too hard. it probably won't make sense either way.
the best way I can think to explain it is.. cabin fever of the soul. or being jarred out of myself.
I am pretty much gone. and so is everyone else, and I always think I can rescue them, even when I'm just as poorly off as they are. I just want to tell the whole fucking world, "I love you, and I hope you are okay." and I would mean it. but I don't think anyone would care. it's all I can fucking do sometimes and it doesn't make a difference.
school is SHIT. work is SHIT. money and cars and racist parents and BEING HERE.. just SHIT. I want to just put my head on someone's shoulder and go AWAY. I want to wrestle you for a space inside your sleeping bag. I want to go comatose until things are okay again.
friends make me tired. they don't understand me, and it's not their fault. I'm the kind of person you nod slowly at and then ask what the fuck I am smoking or why the fuck I make such a big deal out of every little thing. "The Story of Little Black Sambo" for sale at an antiques store for $95. how do you NOT make a big deal out of every little fucking motherassing goddamn shithead thing?
when it's like this, when you drive an hour to school every day and one of your professors is a destructive asscock and another one of your professors is the dumbest person you've ever met, when your insides cramp around every piece of food you eat, when you love someone in silence and draw big black X's over all the places you've never been, when everything is one gigantic fucking run-on sentence or disjointed thought, no beginning, no end, just the middle, just standing in the middle of fucking nowhere and screaming out into infinity because things have been wrong from the start.
people talk to me but I forget what they say because I am writing about the salt crystals that form in Play-Doh after it's been sitting around for a few years. I am editing my ex-boyfriend out of every memory I have, out of half my interesting stories. I am grinding my teeth, digging ruts in my scalp, and forgetting what it's like to have warm hands on my skin. my only modes of defense.
it's not the external world that's gone all wrong. it's how I'm internalizing things. it's how I'm always at one of two extremes, blissed out or black hole, and how good I am at faking either way. and how much I thought I had shit figured out this summer and how much I can't admit I need people sometimes.
some people, sometimes. and the fuckin' wind, you know?
I love you, and I hope you are okay.
[update: 6 hours + rain + chocolate cake = zen. I can turn my emo off like a lightswitch. nyaaaah.]
I will try, but not too hard. it probably won't make sense either way.
the best way I can think to explain it is.. cabin fever of the soul. or being jarred out of myself.
I am pretty much gone. and so is everyone else, and I always think I can rescue them, even when I'm just as poorly off as they are. I just want to tell the whole fucking world, "I love you, and I hope you are okay." and I would mean it. but I don't think anyone would care. it's all I can fucking do sometimes and it doesn't make a difference.
school is SHIT. work is SHIT. money and cars and racist parents and BEING HERE.. just SHIT. I want to just put my head on someone's shoulder and go AWAY. I want to wrestle you for a space inside your sleeping bag. I want to go comatose until things are okay again.
friends make me tired. they don't understand me, and it's not their fault. I'm the kind of person you nod slowly at and then ask what the fuck I am smoking or why the fuck I make such a big deal out of every little thing. "The Story of Little Black Sambo" for sale at an antiques store for $95. how do you NOT make a big deal out of every little fucking motherassing goddamn shithead thing?
when it's like this, when you drive an hour to school every day and one of your professors is a destructive asscock and another one of your professors is the dumbest person you've ever met, when your insides cramp around every piece of food you eat, when you love someone in silence and draw big black X's over all the places you've never been, when everything is one gigantic fucking run-on sentence or disjointed thought, no beginning, no end, just the middle, just standing in the middle of fucking nowhere and screaming out into infinity because things have been wrong from the start.
people talk to me but I forget what they say because I am writing about the salt crystals that form in Play-Doh after it's been sitting around for a few years. I am editing my ex-boyfriend out of every memory I have, out of half my interesting stories. I am grinding my teeth, digging ruts in my scalp, and forgetting what it's like to have warm hands on my skin. my only modes of defense.
it's not the external world that's gone all wrong. it's how I'm internalizing things. it's how I'm always at one of two extremes, blissed out or black hole, and how good I am at faking either way. and how much I thought I had shit figured out this summer and how much I can't admit I need people sometimes.
some people, sometimes. and the fuckin' wind, you know?
I love you, and I hope you are okay.
[update: 6 hours + rain + chocolate cake = zen. I can turn my emo off like a lightswitch. nyaaaah.]
VIEW 13 of 13 COMMENTS
sentri:
Oh, most definitely. I'm on it..
y:
Oh, stop moanin'! 