Date: June 28, 2009
@10:13 p.m.
Written over the summer break of 2009
WARNING
Things I write while half-asleep OFTEN INCLUDE THINGS I WOULDN'T NORMALLY SAY.
This is the first half-asleep letter I've posted, so I'm just warning y'all. If it says "half-asleep" in the tags, it might be a little... well. You'll see.
I'm sleepy and my head is still foggy from reading fluff fics, and I was looking like mad for my notebook, (the one I usually wrote letters in that summer) but I can't fucking find it, and so I had to fucking rummage through all my drawers just to find this sheet of folder paper with three sentences of notes on Harriet Tubman to write on, because I was lying there thinking and imagining but mostly just missing you.
I'm so not wonderful.
I'm listening to Demi Lovato. The lyrics are making me think.
About how much I miss you, how much I like you, and how I'm so me.
That's my problem: that I'm so me. I mean, damn. You'd think I'd learn, I'd change. And I want to. But I don't. So I haven't. I'm not. And it sucks.
And I'm listening to music, now, that only makes it a little bit worse.
I mean, it's like,
And I can't resist
'Cause I muct be
Some kinda
Masochist
Frick.
I connect music with everything. That's why I got so songfic-obsessed.
I miss you. I want to trade people. You live here, and they live there. That way, I don't have to deal with them, and I get you.
You're wonderful, you know that? I know I say that or things of that nature way too much. But it's true. You're beautiful and wonderful and brilliant, all of it, all the happiness and chocolate and shit I'm retarded.
Fuck. I still don't know where my note book is. What if someone took it and read everything I said, about you, me, and everyone else?
I worry too much.
I think too much..
I listen to weird music too much. I'm listening to Gravy Train, which I haven't done in a while.
I'm so damn white. I don't look Brazilian. I don't even look like I've lived my whole life in Hawaii.
They should call me Blancinha!
(That was SO random.)