And i'm feeling very sick and ill today.
Well, I knew I would end up having a shitty time anyway.
Don’t get me wrong. I attempted to have a good time. I really did. Forty fucking bucks, I mine as well at least try to have fun. But other people affect my moods. And is this my fault? Maybe. Most likely. I just saw you, and the way you looked and there was nothing more that I wanted to do than take you inside my arms and protect you from whatever was bothering you. And I made an attempt to do that, I really did. I tried talking to you. I tried everything.
But its so fucking frustrating. And the painful realization that soon came along was almost too much. So I sat at table 22 by myself and thought of how I could kill myself at prom.
yes, I’m pathetic. Yes, I’m everything everyone hates. Yes, all I do is complain. Do you not think I know this? I’m doing it. Of course I know it.
I just sat and stared at you and felt like this. Its not like you don’t always ignore me when certain people are present, but I guess it was just magnified. I guess...
I felt like grabbing your shoulders and shaking you and screaming....”I MIGHT BE EVERYTHING YOU NEED AND YOU MIGHT BE THE SAME FOR ME!!”
Because I could, I really could. Give me a chance. I need this, I need to consume myself in making someone else feel happy. Or else...I don’t know.
And then she was there. Like that didn’t make me feel even more like shit. I saw the way you smiled. And I saw the way she patted your head. DON’T LET HER GET IN YOU. Please. I beg of you. You don’t realize, do you? I care about you so much. Anything, I would do anything.
[and that, my loyal readers, was my prom night. At one point everything came to a boiling point and no one was fucking talking to me. “Why don’t you move your seat towards them?” you said stabbing the knife in me. And I just looked at you. And the realization comes that I know when I’m not fucking wanted. And it kills, IT FUCKING KILLS. You know the burn that comes after a cut? That is me....so I took out my eyeliner and wrote “this is fucking tragic” on my ticket, stuck in on the table, and took a picture of it. And this sums up my night. I’m falling. I’m falling and this time I don’t think I will be able to get back up.]
[now I see that all really want is to see me dangle neck first from a tree.]
P.S. I want you to know that I’m not all right. But if anyone asks, I’m perfectly fine. And I had a great prom night. I’m over you. And you don’t get to me at all. No, never.
Don’t get me wrong. I attempted to have a good time. I really did. Forty fucking bucks, I mine as well at least try to have fun. But other people affect my moods. And is this my fault? Maybe. Most likely. I just saw you, and the way you looked and there was nothing more that I wanted to do than take you inside my arms and protect you from whatever was bothering you. And I made an attempt to do that, I really did. I tried talking to you. I tried everything.
But its so fucking frustrating. And the painful realization that soon came along was almost too much. So I sat at table 22 by myself and thought of how I could kill myself at prom.
yes, I’m pathetic. Yes, I’m everything everyone hates. Yes, all I do is complain. Do you not think I know this? I’m doing it. Of course I know it.
I just sat and stared at you and felt like this. Its not like you don’t always ignore me when certain people are present, but I guess it was just magnified. I guess...
I felt like grabbing your shoulders and shaking you and screaming....”I MIGHT BE EVERYTHING YOU NEED AND YOU MIGHT BE THE SAME FOR ME!!”
Because I could, I really could. Give me a chance. I need this, I need to consume myself in making someone else feel happy. Or else...I don’t know.
And then she was there. Like that didn’t make me feel even more like shit. I saw the way you smiled. And I saw the way she patted your head. DON’T LET HER GET IN YOU. Please. I beg of you. You don’t realize, do you? I care about you so much. Anything, I would do anything.
[and that, my loyal readers, was my prom night. At one point everything came to a boiling point and no one was fucking talking to me. “Why don’t you move your seat towards them?” you said stabbing the knife in me. And I just looked at you. And the realization comes that I know when I’m not fucking wanted. And it kills, IT FUCKING KILLS. You know the burn that comes after a cut? That is me....so I took out my eyeliner and wrote “this is fucking tragic” on my ticket, stuck in on the table, and took a picture of it. And this sums up my night. I’m falling. I’m falling and this time I don’t think I will be able to get back up.]
[now I see that all really want is to see me dangle neck first from a tree.]
P.S. I want you to know that I’m not all right. But if anyone asks, I’m perfectly fine. And I had a great prom night. I’m over you. And you don’t get to me at all. No, never.