One of these days I’m going to be so bored that I’m gonna go through my posts and count how many of them are about you and how many of them are about something else. I’m guessing about 80% of them will be about you but I might be wrong. It might be 90%.
Everything is strange now, like i’ve disconnected myself from the world. The things i see and hear and smell and hear they are foreign and unfamiliar. I feel no warmth from human contact nor do i feel honest happiness or hope.
In order to continue appearing normal i have killed sections of my conscience. I have killed the pleasure spots of mg brain so that i wont feel anything. I simulate my feelings.
If i found a bottle
With a genie in it
I would wish to stop being in love with you
To be able to forget you
And a hoverboard
You and your stupid boyfriend
I hate him
I hate his face
I hate the way he dresses
I hate the way he walks
But especially I hate the fact that he’s your stupid boyfriend
And the fact that I can’t seem to be attracted by anyone else but you
I have tried
Believe me I have tried
Please stop being as pretty
or as smart
or as ravishing
as you are
so I can move on
and that idiotic fucking asshole you call your boyfriend
It was the case that she asked me what she thought about her boyfriend being prone to cheat on her. After a minute of thinking, I answered with:
If you were my girlfriend I would never stop trying to impress you and I would try harder to make you laugh everyday to the extent that I would actually study the science of comedy in an effort to never make the same joke twice and I would value your smile above all things as I do now and I would buy you the best things money can buy and still some and I would uphold your opinion over everyone else’s and If we went to Disneyland I would buy you the full park hopper and I would let you choose the rides and I would ride with you in every single one of them even if some of them make me uncomfortable or sick and I would buy you expensive snacks like overpriced chocolate or mints and we would each share a headphone on the bus-ride back to the hotel and we would lay in bed late at night watching “The Price is Right” reruns and instant food commercials and we would get hungry and go out to eat in our pajamas and we would buy museum tickets and stare at stuff for hours and then admit we don’t know anything about contemporary art and laugh a little and we would be so happy that normal people would be very jealous of us.
That may have been too much. Everyone knows the price is right is only on at midday.
I’ve let myself get carried away with an idea again.
I told myself i wouldn’t do it anymore.
I’m a little angry.
Ok, i’m very angry.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck.