Fact or Fiction?
So, for the past two or three days I have been driving myself insane.
I have been neglecting other worries and duties to think about you.
I've been blaring Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, reveling in "Gold Dust Woman," but somehow that doesn't cure me.
I was young, stupid, naive, fresh, almost innocent. Did you take advantage of that? Probably.
Just the fact that I am writing about you now, the fact that I am still thinking about everything that happened is proof that either I just can't get over things or that you really fucked me up that bad.
I know I am/was clingy. I know that I was stupid, stubborn, righteous. That gave you no right. Damn you if you think you did nothing wrong. Oh yeah. You are as much to blame as I am.
You've been haunting my dreams. You've been haunting my thoughts, every single day. Why now, of all times?
Why can I not get you out of my head? Why am I writing this?
So you can see it. I know you will read this. So read it, and let my words sink in.
You've left your mark on me, all right. I cannot seem to get over what happened. Maybe that is a sign of my weakness, a sign of my immaturity, a sign of my insecurities.
I just wanted to write this to show you the extent of the damage you made. There are so many other things, important things, on my mind right now. However, you keep creeping back into my thoughts like a bad roach infestation. No matter how many times I try to stamp you out, you keep coming back. Stubborn little monkey, no?
I'm brooding, I'm mulling, I'm taking it out on people who do not deserve it. But, hey, that's what I've always done. Maybe this PMSing isn't helping either. The cramps are pissing me off and making me extremely liable to blow up at the next unsuspecting asshole.
You bring these lovely feelings out of me, dearest.
This isn't me whining, this isn't a rant. It's a...sort of rambling of thoughts. I want you to read this. I really do. I hope you are, right now.
I have been neglecting other worries and duties to think about you.
I've been blaring Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, reveling in "Gold Dust Woman," but somehow that doesn't cure me.
I was young, stupid, naive, fresh, almost innocent. Did you take advantage of that? Probably.
Just the fact that I am writing about you now, the fact that I am still thinking about everything that happened is proof that either I just can't get over things or that you really fucked me up that bad.
I know I am/was clingy. I know that I was stupid, stubborn, righteous. That gave you no right. Damn you if you think you did nothing wrong. Oh yeah. You are as much to blame as I am.
You've been haunting my dreams. You've been haunting my thoughts, every single day. Why now, of all times?
Why can I not get you out of my head? Why am I writing this?
So you can see it. I know you will read this. So read it, and let my words sink in.
You've left your mark on me, all right. I cannot seem to get over what happened. Maybe that is a sign of my weakness, a sign of my immaturity, a sign of my insecurities.
I just wanted to write this to show you the extent of the damage you made. There are so many other things, important things, on my mind right now. However, you keep creeping back into my thoughts like a bad roach infestation. No matter how many times I try to stamp you out, you keep coming back. Stubborn little monkey, no?
I'm brooding, I'm mulling, I'm taking it out on people who do not deserve it. But, hey, that's what I've always done. Maybe this PMSing isn't helping either. The cramps are pissing me off and making me extremely liable to blow up at the next unsuspecting asshole.
You bring these lovely feelings out of me, dearest.
This isn't me whining, this isn't a rant. It's a...sort of rambling of thoughts. I want you to read this. I really do. I hope you are, right now.