And I'm so lonely I don't even want to be with myself
Well, there were some nice parts to the night, such as having some champagne with Lindsey- not much real conversation, we were both too tired from these God-damned dreams to do more than drink. Unfortunately, all the more pleasant parts are going to be overshadowed by the conversations I had this evening, particularly with the one I tend to share my bed with. Guess he's really got a thing for angst and causing pain to the world around him, maybe it makes him feel better? Fucked if I know, the bastard. Thinks he can just say those things...
Funny, how much words can sting. Always been a bit impervious to what people say, I've found that I've always managed to shut them up fast. But what he said? Wasn't quite prepared. Not quite sure what the fuck he wants from me. If he even wants me, or if it's just about taming the bad, evil Hellbitch. Sorry, lover, that I don't take kindly to being soft, to being seen as weak. In my industry, the weak are usually found in the Little Champions Dog Food Processing Plant. But it doesn't matter to you, does it? I'm not allowed to be defensive, or keep up some semblance of "walls" or whatever an overpriced quack would label them. And I don't know what cuts me deeper, your words or the sudden lack of caring about me. Sure was a quick turn around for you, Wes.
But I guess none of this really matters, after all, I'm dead, and it's a matter of time until you're finally rid of me. You don't need to humour me or pity me. I know you might see me as the lowest thing on this Earth, but I'm still a little above that, because it's obvious that you're doing just that by acting like you give a flying fuck. Really, no thanks.
However, I'm beyond the point of exhaustion, and I've said all I can on this subject. I'm going to re-apply my mascara and find a car home, where I'll attempt to keep my sanity with massive amounts of alcohol.
Funny, how much words can sting. Always been a bit impervious to what people say, I've found that I've always managed to shut them up fast. But what he said? Wasn't quite prepared. Not quite sure what the fuck he wants from me. If he even wants me, or if it's just about taming the bad, evil Hellbitch. Sorry, lover, that I don't take kindly to being soft, to being seen as weak. In my industry, the weak are usually found in the Little Champions Dog Food Processing Plant. But it doesn't matter to you, does it? I'm not allowed to be defensive, or keep up some semblance of "walls" or whatever an overpriced quack would label them. And I don't know what cuts me deeper, your words or the sudden lack of caring about me. Sure was a quick turn around for you, Wes.
But I guess none of this really matters, after all, I'm dead, and it's a matter of time until you're finally rid of me. You don't need to humour me or pity me. I know you might see me as the lowest thing on this Earth, but I'm still a little above that, because it's obvious that you're doing just that by acting like you give a flying fuck. Really, no thanks.
However, I'm beyond the point of exhaustion, and I've said all I can on this subject. I'm going to re-apply my mascara and find a car home, where I'll attempt to keep my sanity with massive amounts of alcohol.