okay, im not sure WHO spudboy is,(unless i met you at the SG party here in columbus?)
tonight proved interesting enough. here: i vent. because, i can.
First and foremost, i'd like to say i DO NOT blame my FATHER for my delusions surrounding my need to have men around me. SURe, i blame him for my being, fat,ugly,anoying, or hard-to-please, but CERTAINLY, my ever-absent father had nothing to do with it. really, this if my form of saying 'fuck off'
also, i realize, i need to pay more heed to comments like, 'dont get yrself hurt celia'. because, really, it just means they know something i DONT!!!! WHICH, is. also, a little anoying,but im used to being the last to know about whats going on in my life...
shit, im also realizing, its taking less and less time for these things to get to me. before, it'd take months, then weeks, now, just days, and the people are overlapping. the most fucked up part, really, is that, i really, THINK i mean, i genuinly belive, that, THIS will make me happy, this person.or thing. or idea.some new artistic rampage i go on to feed some part of me thats starving. and its sick. and its sick that right now, im sitting at my desk, at 2 am, after watching a clockwork orange with two people who make me happier and sad(der) than anyone else and im just, crying. im crying and im typing this bullshit out onto some pink and grey screen. and im cold. and im lonely. and im letting someting ELSE do it to me.
this is the part wherei just wnt to say fuck you. really, really, fuck you.
and maybe not. maybe it really Is just me. maybe all of you, collectively are amazing people. with amazing thoughts. and ideas. and hearts. but i really dont give a fuck about any of that, beacuse its MEwho's hurting.
...and then i think of people like...jenn. who are amazingly strong, smart, beautiful people who have been shit on. and i think, well, god, she's doing okay...even if just on the exterior. and i wonder, do i want that? people already think im this, happy -go- lucky, hardcore, say-anything, DO-anything, doesn't give a fuck, ROCK and...im not.
i overslept today because i didn't want to shake myself from the half-dream that someone was laying next to me. and thats sick. really, really sick.
i dont need my own advice. i am my own drug. words are sweetened pulp in my mouth and it tastes like everyone who ever meant more to me, than i did them.
...and now its still 2am and im still crying.
...im so cool, i want to die....
tonight proved interesting enough. here: i vent. because, i can.
First and foremost, i'd like to say i DO NOT blame my FATHER for my delusions surrounding my need to have men around me. SURe, i blame him for my being, fat,ugly,anoying, or hard-to-please, but CERTAINLY, my ever-absent father had nothing to do with it. really, this if my form of saying 'fuck off'
also, i realize, i need to pay more heed to comments like, 'dont get yrself hurt celia'. because, really, it just means they know something i DONT!!!! WHICH, is. also, a little anoying,but im used to being the last to know about whats going on in my life...
shit, im also realizing, its taking less and less time for these things to get to me. before, it'd take months, then weeks, now, just days, and the people are overlapping. the most fucked up part, really, is that, i really, THINK i mean, i genuinly belive, that, THIS will make me happy, this person.or thing. or idea.some new artistic rampage i go on to feed some part of me thats starving. and its sick. and its sick that right now, im sitting at my desk, at 2 am, after watching a clockwork orange with two people who make me happier and sad(der) than anyone else and im just, crying. im crying and im typing this bullshit out onto some pink and grey screen. and im cold. and im lonely. and im letting someting ELSE do it to me.
this is the part wherei just wnt to say fuck you. really, really, fuck you.
and maybe not. maybe it really Is just me. maybe all of you, collectively are amazing people. with amazing thoughts. and ideas. and hearts. but i really dont give a fuck about any of that, beacuse its MEwho's hurting.
...and then i think of people like...jenn. who are amazingly strong, smart, beautiful people who have been shit on. and i think, well, god, she's doing okay...even if just on the exterior. and i wonder, do i want that? people already think im this, happy -go- lucky, hardcore, say-anything, DO-anything, doesn't give a fuck, ROCK and...im not.
i overslept today because i didn't want to shake myself from the half-dream that someone was laying next to me. and thats sick. really, really sick.
i dont need my own advice. i am my own drug. words are sweetened pulp in my mouth and it tastes like everyone who ever meant more to me, than i did them.
...and now its still 2am and im still crying.
...im so cool, i want to die....
I know what you mean. Seems like sometimes no matter how good things are going, nothing can make me happy.
Was gonna call you last night, but got caught up and forgot.