This is the last time...

Oh man, oh man, oh MAN!

I made that comment about being predictable and you said I wasn't and I knew, I just knew, that you were referring to the e-mail.
MAN!
Why did you have to waltz back into my life and shake me up so badly.

I was quite drunk, but I wasn't drunk enough to realise maybe what you were doing. I can't help but think that you started talking to me that night, after months and months of silence, because I was in a vulnerable position. Maybe I shouldn't have updated my Facebook status, but why shouldn't I?! It wasn't for you, because I never expected you to react to anything I wrote on there anyway.

I commented on your picture too. Yeah, maybe that wasn't the best of moves.

You spoke to me and I didn't feel scared, but I don't know if that was the alcohol numbing my senses or that I am actually over you. I could have bought it up. I could have confronted you; asked you why you were talking to me now. Maybe she had gone back home or something and you felt free. I don't know.

I don't want you to, impossibly, read this and think "Oh, shit. I shouldn't have done that. Now she thinks I love her." Because I don't. Honestly, I don't. I just got a little bit confused and couldn't help but think that you were trying to catch me off guard.

Anyway, this is now going to be addressed to my actual audience.

Can you believe the nerve of him? Doing that after so damn long?!
It was totally uncalled for. He even complimented my profile picture. I couldn't believe it. But at the same time I didn't care enough, I just didn't care.

College is out for Christmas. Yeeha! Although I've been ill for the past week because of a nasty flu/cold kind of thing. I'm very nearly over it.
I have to revise now, everyday. Because if I don't get AAB then Birmingham aren't going to want to have me. I don't know though. I kind of want to go to Plymouth or Hull. Because they're by the sea and I love it so much. I want to be able to learn how to surf - which if I get on the Cornwall campus at Exeter uni that is exactly what I'll be doing. Watch how my creative writing gets less and less creative.

It's exciting though. I was reading over some old school reports and the one from year 7 says that I have a flair for creative writing. I was just sitting there thinking 'Wow. It's like I was destined to be a writer.'

The novel is getting ever clearer in my mind. Bits of the plot come to me at really random times. But it's actually becoming a good read. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to write it so I could just read it. That sounds horribly big headed.

Ahh, still single. Still solitarily single. I like this guy. His name is Dave. There's no chance he will ever read this so it's okay. He's just funny, and easy to be myself around and fun to be with and talk to. We were at my friends house and it's the first time I've ever been in an environment like that with him. I wanted to be close to him, he has some kinda magnetism about him. Maybe the world will start turning my way soon? Who knows.

Ciao.

Oh please, I'm in love...

I felt like writing, but didn't know what to write so I looked over some of my old poetry for inspiration. It was strange.
I read a poem. A silly little poem I wrote during an English lesson and I literally felt my heart swell up with love for it. I'm not saying it was the best poem ever written, because that would be a huge lie. I got so passionate about it because I love writing things like that. When I look at my poetry of 3/4 years ago and then look to now I see such a difference. I can see just how much I've progressed as a writer without any real educational guidance, just through sitting and reading poetry written by other people. I feel proud of myself for doing that, for perservering and carrying on. I feel like I am a writer now. I feel like I can call myself a poet.
I won't carry on being all saft - it's not really like me. I'll just leave you with the poem.

The man from next door
has a wooden leg and a parrot.
Everyday he sits on his doorstep
tapping wood against stone; foreboding.
The rhythm; a mismatched waltz mimicks
my heart, sets it on fire, makes me want
to run,
run so very far away.

The Skeptic

My eyes were open, a circuit board of fuses
With a hot-wired heart.
You –
An uncontrollable jerk through every frayed nerve ending
split by the appetites of hungry hamsters.
A computer whirs in the back of my head,
It pulsates with nervous tension and denies a password
I thought I knew.

Mechanical animals leap towards the kill;
a stuttering foot smokes at the toe.
Images; red, green, blue flash along an army of retinas.
They rest upon a twisted version of you.

I’m paralysed – soldered to a seat of pink plastic.
My iron lung spasms; then collapses under the pressure.

An unknown command, the question mark is thrusting;
up and down, up and down.
A finger – so unlike the rest – traces the keys
looking for the right words to feel.
Stare long enough and it may fold like poker players
during nuclear war.

Comments welcome!

I thought he was a man but he was just a little boy...

The Strand

Breath grazes the edge of her skin

and pulls so gently inwards.

Prays,

no,no,no.

Last forever.

A clock ticks towards the end,

unforgiving to the lost minutes.

Prays,

no,no,no.

Last forever.

I went crazy searching between faces

and hands.

Numbers don't tell the story

half as well as pain.

Still I pray,

no,no,no.

Last forever.

Not sure about this. Feedback, anyone?

Sorrow and fear is the same thing in a shot glass.

All I ever asked was for the bile to be withdrawn,

the wind to change and throw it back into your mottled face.

All I ever wished for was the door to close,

So you could laugh upon your empire of bottles.

Empty.

Brain dead from the lie my eyelids are full of ash

that blows from every cigarette tale and lunatic word.

I tell you to “hush” as gentle as the rain before a hurricane,

but all you do is laugh, throw your head back

And drown.

She can’t bring herself to glimpse at her reflection, in fear of

(Hating?)

loathing what she sees.

It’s all a matter of waiting,

waiting for themto rip out a yellowed liver and say,

"This one was destined to be trapped,

trapped in the empty recesses of a broken shot glass.”

It was just something I wrote today in the JCR. Nothing really related to anything.


I knew it wasn't you and I knew I couldn't make it you, but still there was this line. Maybe it was crossing over into the murky depths of madness for a few seconds. Sort of like the feeling you get when you look out of a window for too long and the pane of glass seems to disappear. I started and stared at the back of this man's head, and I saw you. His mannerisms were yours, the way he moved was the way you moved. Not that I would know given that I can't see you anymore but I have to hold on to those shreds of memory. Those shreds of hope.
I sat down and very firmly noted that it wasn't you. I rationalised every factor of the situation. Why on earth would you be on a bus when you have a working car? Why would you be here, on this bus, when you live miles away from here?
All of this I knew in my head and, I stress this, I knew it wasn't you. Yet I stared and stared and still saw you.

I suppose it means I still miss you. I suppose that it means I still love you. That's the most frustrating part. It's not that you left, I can deal with that. It's missing you and loving you and wanting you so much that the past and the present intermingle and there you are, sitting in front of me on the bus.

I should run away...

I can't believe I let myself land here again. I was ready to drop you. So ready. I thought that all of it; the request, the message, all of that would come to nothing. And twice you have suprised me and at the same time scared me. All I wanted was silence. Why couldn't you have given me silence? I'm not sure where I stand now, I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens.
It's half term soon and I've been wondering if you will be coming down to see all the old people. If you are I am alone. I have the house to myself, and I would love to see you. I realise that is just a fantasy, though. I don't have any delusions.
Yes, I'm back at college and I'm enjoying it. I just wish I could see past it all. I wish I could prepare myself for my future, psychologically. I don't know. I guess I'm scared that being without family, and potentially old friends, it will lead back to me just letting it all slip and falling into bad habits. But that is the point of taking a risk, isn't it? Nothing is set in stone, nothing is for sure, just have to see what happens.

On happier notes I am loving Will Young right now. I've just seen that his new album is available on Napster, so I'm just listening to it now. I guess a lot of the stuff he sings about I can relate to. I have like four favourite songs at the moment:

1) Pink - So What?
2) Kings of Leon - Sex on Fire
3) McFly - One for the Radio
4) Will Young - Changes

I hope that means music is getting better because it's just drivel at the moment really, isn't it?

Hohum. So things are okay, I suppose. I'm carrying on with my life. Moving on up as they would say. It's been a difficult couple of weeks. A friend of 3 years has removed herself from my life and I won't lie and say it has been easy. It hasn't. I've missed her. But it's better for the both of us. I think we're much better off without each other. I don't talk about it much, but I suppose it's just good to see that she is happy and getting on with her life, which is always good to see.
I'm quite liking Will Young's album.

I saw Marc today. Of course most of you won't know what I'm talking about but isn't that what blogs are about? I kind of thought that if we were to see each other again one of us would turn to stone, burst into flames or die. Instead we just kind of acknowledged each other with a sidelong glance and walked on by. I think that is for the best!

Anyhow, I have 3 essays to write so I guess I better get down to those.


Au revoir!

I'm so weak

I realise that I blew it. I realise that I was the one who tore us apart and ruined. Maybe you and me would never be what I would've liked but maybe we may have just been friends.

So, I took one last dive in. One last risk. And it didn't pay off and now I have no other choice but to accept that you don't want to be in touch with me anymore. I have to understand that you have a new life. But it's hard when you're keeping in touch with everyone else. She told me you were happy and I'm so glad. If the move has made you a happier person, if you can start to feel better, then I am all for it. I will admit that I was holding on and hoping for something. But maybe this is the last hurdle to giving you up, because you disappointed me again and it's all my fault. I thought you might give me another chance, like I gave you so many when you let me down and left me feeling like a bad person. I guess I was wrong and that's no one's fault but mine.

I only want to start to feel okay again. There was a period where you weren't in my head but then it got closer and closer to my birthday and I couldn't help but think back to what you said that time. The request was a peace offering. Something to wipe all the shit away and just act as if nothing had happened. Maybe I should've put that in a message to you, made it clear that I didn't want us, I just wanted something.

So I suppose that I am going to move on this time and stop entertaining thoughts that you might change your mind and want to talk to me again. It's funny how your silence only makes me feel worse. I'd feel better if you told me to fuck off, at least then I'd know. I still wouldn't understand but at least I would know.

I guess Death Cab will be my band of choice for a few weeks. And that's okay. At least now I can start on the path to getting over you. Not just faking it but actually doing it. I suppose I can thank your silence for that.

He was always distracted by the very mention of an open door.

And so it is,

Over and out, she said.

You look so defeated lying there in your new twin size bed...

I suppose that holding on is the only thing I have left. I have this totally irrational feeling that you will get in touch with me. That suddenly things will change. I'm hoping so because I'll be 18 and maybe you won't be so scared.
Urgh! I'm supposed to hate you, I'm supposed to not want to be around you, at least that's what I've been trying to tell myself and everyone else around me. I'm not supposed to feel this way. And then there are the what ifs. What if that email made it sound like I never wanted you to talk to me again? What if I never do hear from you? It scares me to fucking death.
I always seem to get like this when I have dreams about you. And I always seem to have dreams about you when I'm lonely and nothing else will do. When I feel like I can't stand everyone else around me, you are the one that stands out.
The most surreal thing is that the other day I sat in your chair and had a heart to heart with my best friend. Not you. I couldn't help but thinking that it should have been your conversation. I kept saying that I didn't understand what changed in you and I didn't understand what you saw in the person you are with now. Just because I can't doesn't mean I won't though.
Do you have any idea the amount of times I'd hoped you'd read this? It would be so much easier if you saw that I wanted you in my life so much and the distance you put between us hurts.
I know, I know, I haven't taken to account the fact that you may have not replied because you didn't want to. That you were uncomfortable with the way I felt and all that. I wish so hard it wasn't the case but I am afraid deep down that it's true, that you were scared and repulsed by my feelings and couldn't deal with it anymore. I just don't understand the change as soon as I left. You stopped talking to friends and you stopped the friendship that was there. In a way, and maybe I'm being paranoid, you cut all ties to me. And that's fine because that's your choice and I respect that. I just can't wrap my head around it after everything.
And her. You know who. I can't understand why that came together with her. If you truly and honestly have feelings for her then who am I to argue but I just can't see any love between the two of you over the past three years. It seems like you both slagged each other off and wanted nothing to do with each other. Maybe you insulting her was trying to cover up the way you felt about her, and again I respect that. I can't deal with it though. The way she acted towards me in the last weeks you were around hurt me so much, it made me consider not coming to see my best friend because I couldn't stand it.
Maybe, just maybe, I was being paranoid but I know I wasn't. I don't know how you could stand there while she did what she did to me? How she made me feel like utter crap about myself and about being around Rin. I would never have shown her that she had won, because I'm stronger than that now but they could see how much it hurt me. I don't know why exactly she had a vendetta against me. Maybe she was jealous. Seems plausible to me but then again I don't want to flatter myself. Maybe I was just guilty by association, and I get that too but then again that is grossly unfair. And maybe she just needed someone to moan about because having you wasn't enough.
Fuck, now I sound jealous. But I am, a little bit. I feel like I was everything at the wrong time, everything was too late with me and I never ever came close. I've kinda built this person, a model of you in my head, who was much nicer than you were, I think. I see all the nice things we did and all the good times we had and I wish I could relive everyone of them over and over again. So, yeah. Parts of me are hanging on but I'm pretty sure that shred of hope will disintergrate after my 18th birthday. Because that was the last milestone. Looking back on what you said in Krakow, how when I'm 18 I'm my own person, and things change then. Somehow I hold on to that as a safety net. That's not to say I'm fervently holding on. It's only when I get like this I allow myself that luxury, but around other people I'm composed and even come across as if I don't care anymore. But deep inside I do and I meant everything I said in the letter and the email.
I know a lot of people would think that the email was like a spur of the moment act but it wasn't. I'd thought about sending it for so long. Wrote loads of drafts and redrafts and started over and over again. I didn't want to come across as stupid even though it was stupid to fall for you.
When you sent him an email it ripped me into pieces but then again I suppose his email to you was a little easier to reply to, I get it. I just wish you had left me with something more. So I didn't feel like I'd wasted my time.

Anhow, to everyone else. 22 days til my 18th woop, woop. Passed my exams adequately. Only retaking one History module that I got a U in, eep! But I got an A in the other two so it's fixable. I got a B in drama, which I was suprised and happy about, and a B in Psychology which I was also very pleased with. And an A in English, although I got a C in one of the modules and that made me sad.

I've run out of steam now so I'll leave this here.
Loves
xxx

I want to live where soul meets body

I think, maybe, that I'm getting over it. I hope I'm getting over it. Now when I drive past where you live your car isn't there, which means that you aren't there. It doesn't hurt now, it kinda just aches a little bit. I'm not bitter and I'm not depressed, I just miss you a little bit. Just the tiniest of bits. And surely I'm allowed that? It's weird I thought you would be around forever, that you would never leave. You stayed true to your words though, I respect that.
It's difficult now to tell. Now that I'm happier with who I am and don't use you as a crutch, or can't use you as a crutch, if I needed you before. I was vulnerable and incredibly sad, and all it took to make it stop was either being with you or leaving you altogether. Odd, isn't it? Because all those times we were together I felt complete and happy and safe. But when I left although it ripped the dependence out of me, it left me stronger and I didn't need you to feel complete or happy. So really, did I need you? Or did I just think I did?
Oh well, I'm sure you're all sick of me writing and lamenting about him.

It turns out that I'm 18 in 42 days. Exciting but a bit scary too. I'm getting my tattoo as well, which is pretty exciting in itself. I just have to get the design down. Things are looking up. I miss Rin, but she moves into Lichfield in a week so I guess I should be happy about that. I'm just incredibly bored at the moment, what with no college and nothing really immediate to look forward to. (Exam results don't count as things to look forward to!)

I really want to go on holiday, loads and loads. But I don't know where and I don't have any money, which sucks, which reminds me I should really try harder to get a job. I just want to do something I love straight away and that's never going to happen, is it?

Anyway, I shall leave this here.
Bye x x x

What you feel is what you are.

Long time, no speak amigos! Things have been very strange over the past few weeks.

I passed my driving test, woop! I am now a legal, albeit very nervous, driver. I don't really like driving if I'm honest, it puts me on edge and makes me feel like I'm gonna die. So, I'm trying to drive only when it's essential. I would like my own car though.

Me, Rin and her family went to Amsterdam over the weekend. It was proper wicked. Would really like to go back again but I need to get a job. I'm so tired.

It's odd. I'm actually lost for words today. I want to be able to say something poetic and beautiful but I really can't find any words to describe how I feel. I mean, principally I'm OK. I just feel a bit melancholy now and again. I get sad that things are changing and I can't stop them. That I might not see certain people again. But at least I know that things aren't as bad as I thought they were. It's funny how a shred of something can change things just a tiny bit, make you feel that tiny bit better. Eye contact, fabulous.

Summer 2008 is upon us, not that you would know it. Going to Latitude in two weeks, looking forward to that, I hope the weather is nice though.

I really don't know what to say today, I just thought I would update a little bit.

Loves x

Things have changed for me and that's okay, I feel the same.

Things have changed for me. And that's okay.
How many seconds, minutes, hours of my life have I wasted thinking about stupid, stupid things? Probably many, but now here I am and my whole feelings have changed, my whole outlook on what I thought life should like has morphed into something wonderful. I no longer torture myself with the what ifs and the maybes, no longer sit there wondering. And it's okay I didn't get reply. Isn't that just a reflection on him rather than me? I have a clear conscious, I was the honest one, I told the truth. He didn't, couldn't. So it's his problem, his conscious he has to face, not mine. I'm fine.

Who'd have thought one poxy email could change a whole feeling. Oh well, I'm not about to complain. And yes, I may sound cheesy. But I'm able to look him in the eye now, instead of looking away because of how much it hurt to think that he didn't know. Now he does so there are no what ifs, none at all.

Awesome.

Well hello!

Long time no speak, I believe.

Well, I can't really say much has changed. I'm taking my driving test tomorrow and I'm losing myself in Stephen King books. I'm revising for my Alevels and trying not to think about stuff I shouldn't think about. And you know what? It's kind of working.

I only get small pangs now when I think of him. Only tiny far away ones, like a harp's strings being plucked along a very long corridor. Fragile but still distant. Oh, yes he could break me again if I wanted to. It's time that's healing this wound. Neglect almost. He's not around to think about, to attend to so my brain discards him. And only when the bus drives past where he lives or I see him or think of him unexpectedly does that pang go off and even then it's bearable.

Bearable.

Living without him wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Certain things remind me of him: SuDoku, skiing, little things like that but I can talk about him now without it hurting so bad. And that's got to be good. Got to be.

He still hasn't told me. Hasn't uttered the two words I dread to hear and long for at the same time.

I'm leaving.

Well just go! I don't want to sit and wait for the email or the message. I don't want to wait for you to care about me enough to tell me because I know deep down in my heart that you never are and I'm wishing on stars that never existed.

Only in this head of mine would I allow him in and I'm blocking him now for all I'm worth.

I did my play. All the weeks of rehearsal and feelings of inadequacy all accumulated in that one adrenaline fueled night. Yes, I loved it. But drama is not my calling. I will never fit in the world that is drama. I'm not the right misfit. True enough I am A misfit but I'm not a drama one. I'm an english one, at best. At worst I'm just a misfit.

I don't know what is in my head. I'm in a writing mood. I could spew shit for the next hundred words and not notice. In the zone, as you would call it. Sometimes, I become frighteningly aware of my own existance, and the fact that I am in charge of a whole life. My life. Yes, I know I should have fathomed that I while back but sometimes it hits me so glaringly in the face that I can't face it, don't want to face the fact that I'm growing up.

Where did my childhood go? Where did it slip away to? One moment it's there, resting safely in the palm of my hand and the next it has abandoned me and I'm surrounded by thoughts of getting a job, and paying for my petrol and finding someone I could spend the rest of my life with. Yes, I have time. Not everything has to happen now but it will begin to happen and when it does how the hell can I stop it? Part of me longs for the freedom of my own life, the freedom that I am granted and the control it brings. And then the other part of me wants to hand it back, wants to cower away from responsibilty and sensible thoughts. Because I am not sensible. I've never been and doubt I ever will be. I'm cautious but they are two different things.

When it comes down to it, I'm just lost.

Life, The Universe and Everything.

It's strange how I can be sitting here minding my own buisness and then I think of you and POOF! I can barely breathe. It's like all of a sudden the mere thought of you takes up all the space in my brain and stops me from being able to do the simple task of pulling in air and exhaling it. That's just not right. I hate that you have this level of control over me and you don't even know, or care the tiniest bit. How can I go on like this? How can I grow old never knowing if there could be something more than the wishing. Never knowing that if I had just said something to you, three simple words, I could have conjured up a life far better than the one I'm living now. How can I not take that risk? Then again there's the possibility that you might laugh in my face, or never want to speak to me again or feel violated or simply think I'm mentally tapped. There's every possibility that that may happen and that is the scariest part of this whole endeavour.

The night before September 9th 2008, my HTC TyNt will make a faint buzzing sound and on the screen will flash 'Tell Him!' this is the prompt that in around 24 hours I will be confessing my love for you and hope for the best. Whether it be in the pub, or through an email or simply whether I throw rocks at your window and do a revers Romeo and Juliet type thing and ask you to marry me. I don't know. But either way I'll have to utter those three words, or maybe lots of words to the same effect, in your general direction. So here is my prototype.

It's been over a year since I officially left you, and in that year I've missed you so much and so hard it has been mentally and physically draining. I think deep down you already know what I'm going to say, I think deep down you saw it in my eyes and knew. Do you remember you got that rose on one of the Valentine's days. That was me. I felt something for you then because you were kind, gentle, funny and just the perfect man for me. How corny. I just want you to know that I don't expect anything from you. Although I've hoped that this might be reciprocated I know that it is probably not and even if it was there is a considerable taboo about it which would hold us back but I'm not even going to let the possibilty of I feel the same creep into my head. I just want you to know that someone out here in this big wide world loves you and thinks about you everyday of her life. Now, that might sound rather creepy, and probably is to an extent but it's also true so if you just want to walk away from this conversation now you can. If you haven't already interrupted me, that is. There have been so many times when I've felt so close to youm where I've come so close to just telling you like I am now, but I decided to wait until now for both of us. For me because I wanted to be sure, I wanted to make damn sure that this was how I felt and if I was going to take the plunge into certain death I was doing it for a damn good cause. And to make it easier on you, because I know it must be hard. And if I'm severley drunk when I say this and you are too, it will probably make the blow considerably easier.

So basically, what this long winded rant is about is that I love you. With every fibre of my being I love you. I guess that's not healthy. But it's bloody true.

end prototype.

At this point I fully expect you to run screaming from the building in horrified bewilderment. Oh, won't you prove me fucking wrong? Won't you turn around and say, "You know what Hex, I bloody love you too and I've missed you too!" Won't you just say that and let me die a happy woman? In my dreams.

So, this is my invite to you if you ever read this. On 9th September 2008 will you **** **** **** please come to the Giffard Arms in Wolverhampton and hear me out? Would you listen to me for one last time? I'm begging you too and never has there been such an obvious plea on the internet because if you were you and you read it you would know full well it was you. And if you don't and are reading this then it is you and you should come and wish me a happy 18th birthday.

I know this is odd and very fanciful of me. But this is my leap of faith. I can't live my life not knowing if things would have been different and if you actually felt the same. If you don't, fair enough, but even the most improbable is possible.

Insane Genius, Inane Twit

Now to scrape some of that fantastic wit from the walls of my brain and smear it all over this unsuspecting blog!

Yes, my friends, the time has come for Hex to pick up her quill and take you three levels past ecstasy with her fine tuned words that will make your eyes bleed. Roll up! Roll up! Ladies and Gentleman (wouldn't want to be sexist now!) and watch the freak perform.

Ahem, drum roll please.

Cue applause.

Thank you, thank you! You're all too kind. Now, lets get down to it.

Here I am sitting in my bomb site of a room staring at the beast of a PC and writers block is tantilising dancing around the outskirts of my imagination. The bastard.

Now, I imagine this 'writers block' as a person. A very fat person. Who sits on the source of your creative juices therefore disallowing them to spring forth and went your quill with the ink of imagination. (Oh, I do love poetic imagery!)

Yes folks! The journalist has turned poet. How very bohemian of her. Maybe she'll start sitting in abandoned cafe's and writing in crayola. Then again, maybe not. I only enjoy Starbuck's coffee. Seasoned tastes you see. The crayola thing might work though. Maybe a nice green or red though. Or, one to suit every mood. Green for jealousy. Red for anger or passion! Or passionate anger! Blue for sadness! Yellow for melancholy.

You see, when you're a poet you see the dull sides of life. No, I'm wrong. When you're a failing poet you see the dull sides of life, thus you only write about the dull sides of life.

Teardrops fall from my glass eye.
Alas! a monocle I fear.

This is the stuff only I could think of, isn't it. But hey, I enjoy it and it's a far cry from my old poetry.

I slit mi rist
cuz ma mum said
I culdnt av cake.
Boohoo.

Man, there's so much more to life than this. Ho,ho,ho!
I'm cold. I'm sitting here in my snoopy pyjamas and my legs are cold.

See! There I go again the glass is always half empty!

We can't have that! Fill it up! Fill it up so I can drink it all and feel more of an effect than half a glass. If it's half full or half empty, it still has the same alcoholic content and that just won't do at all, sir.

Heavy eyelids. Sure sign that insanity will claim me soon, before insomnia does. Or is that the other way round? I seem to have lost all grasp of coherant thought. Brava! The girl finally dropped her bag of marbles! Watch them roll away into dark, satanic corners, where naturally she will never find them again.

Ah, she took the blow well.

Patrick. Oooh, when were you going to sneak into these crazy thoughts?
Crazylicious. Is it so bad that I want you? Not an ornament, not a friend, not so much a gentleman but a tool.

Trust me, honey. She only wants dick.

Ahh, well. I tried to tell him but Myspace hints just weren't enough! Plus, he has a girlfriend. Can't compete. Or can I? Split, split in two, by me, by you.

Want, want, want. We're always wanting but never getting. Maybe becayse we don't give anymore. I try and give but no body wants. Ha! I wouldn't want from me either.

Heavy eyes, that has to mean something. Oh! Maybe it's a sign that you really want me rather than her and there is no competition because you love me anyway! Sweet, Merry fucking Christmas.

You know what, Johnny Depp's right. We all deserve to die. Some big plague should wipe all us fuckers out and then the human race should start over. We're all bloody corrupt. Sex, Money, Lies, Dirt.

Where's the love, people? Oh! Not only am I bohemian I'm also a hippie! Fab! Just what I always wanted. Happy fucking new year.

Bed? Only if he's coming with me. I can't sleep alone anymore. Crazy, crazy, crazy. Pillow people. How we love alliteration. I have pillow people, pillows that act like people. Well, their bodies. You can't have a decent conversation with one but you can certainly ride it. Well, it's like some people then.

Exhausted. Eyes hurt, back hurts, heart hurts. STOP THE MADNESS!

So I will and bid thee fairwell.