I'm listening to Bjork and wearing a new dress. It's pretty and blue. Life is good. For the most part.
I have a silly schoolgirl crush on a boy at work. Problem is, he's ten years older than I am. Problem, you say? I definitely have friends who've dated (or "dated") people 10 years their senior or more. One of my very good friends has been seeing a guy 10 years ahead of her for over two years. That, truth be told, isn't really the issue. The sad part is (or is it) that I don't really have casual sex. The crush would get in the way of that. And I don't need any reasons to not want to move to St. Louis, because that's where I'm going and that's the way it is. As of August 24th I will no longer be a resident of D.C., and I don't want to feel bad about it. I suppose it all boils down to the fact that I'm lonely, and I hate being lonely. I want a warm body to press against as I fall asleep, and I'm not getting it, and it's frustrating me.
Fuck romance.
The blue dress did its job tonight, though the boy in question wasn't there to see it. Getting stared at by the right people is worth getting stared at by the wrong people. Unless the wrong people get all up in your personal space and try to get your number and touch you and stuff. Fortunately I work in the gay district, and lesbians aren't quite so eager to grope. Or at least they keep their hands to themselves. Not that I'd mind so much, women are a lot classier about their pickup tactics.
So. Tired. Yes, it's back to work tomorrow, after socializing for a bit with Chris, whom I haven't seen in a while. His mother's having a 4th of July party. It's up in the air, actually, as to whether or not Chris will be at said party, but I'm hoping for my sake he will be.
I am very ready for a new city. A new start to things. Some stitches in my heart. The kind that fucking stay.
Fuck YOU. Why am I still thinking about you? What's so goddamn special about you? Wait. I know what it is. You made me feel like I mattered.
Screw you for lying.
I have a silly schoolgirl crush on a boy at work. Problem is, he's ten years older than I am. Problem, you say? I definitely have friends who've dated (or "dated") people 10 years their senior or more. One of my very good friends has been seeing a guy 10 years ahead of her for over two years. That, truth be told, isn't really the issue. The sad part is (or is it) that I don't really have casual sex. The crush would get in the way of that. And I don't need any reasons to not want to move to St. Louis, because that's where I'm going and that's the way it is. As of August 24th I will no longer be a resident of D.C., and I don't want to feel bad about it. I suppose it all boils down to the fact that I'm lonely, and I hate being lonely. I want a warm body to press against as I fall asleep, and I'm not getting it, and it's frustrating me.
Fuck romance.
The blue dress did its job tonight, though the boy in question wasn't there to see it. Getting stared at by the right people is worth getting stared at by the wrong people. Unless the wrong people get all up in your personal space and try to get your number and touch you and stuff. Fortunately I work in the gay district, and lesbians aren't quite so eager to grope. Or at least they keep their hands to themselves. Not that I'd mind so much, women are a lot classier about their pickup tactics.
So. Tired. Yes, it's back to work tomorrow, after socializing for a bit with Chris, whom I haven't seen in a while. His mother's having a 4th of July party. It's up in the air, actually, as to whether or not Chris will be at said party, but I'm hoping for my sake he will be.
I am very ready for a new city. A new start to things. Some stitches in my heart. The kind that fucking stay.
Fuck YOU. Why am I still thinking about you? What's so goddamn special about you? Wait. I know what it is. You made me feel like I mattered.
Screw you for lying.