Index - Profile - Archives - Notes - DiaryLand - Random ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 858. Or, Brown Dress. No. Exactly the opposite. Exactly the opposite of never knowing how sorry you are. In fact, I know how sorry everyone is, because there is nothing more sorry than not knowing what to do when you finally get what you've been asking for since you knew how to ask. Nothing worse than watching chance wave at you from a Volkswagen bus on 101, heading south, and you're just sitting there. Sitting there. When you thought you were happy, or at the very least mildy content, with your simple half friends and mild money, occaisionally getting scraps of affection from whom ever happens to be handing it out that day. And, so, a strange man offers you sunshine in an apartment across from Central Park, and you're stupid enough to mutter a No Thank You because your pride has been riding shotgun and is starting to spill into the back seat. Honey, what little he's been giving you simply isn't enough, and you know this is real enough to make you cry over your light cigarettes, real enough to make a pause. No one here cares about your bullshit. Just try to make the long distance reach, and look out with your sad eyes, you can't come up with one good reason to keep moving. Some days you just wish you hadn't lived the last years and instead had been blessedly knocked out of reality. Life is anything but kind. So fuck you, Lover. Fuck you for fucking me up beyond recognition, beyond any functional emotional stability. Jesus. I guess it really isn't going to get any better than this. 1:51 p.m. - 2004-03-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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