spinning whizziness
I think it's funny how forgotten this little journal is... I could make an analogy to my forgotten self, but unfortunately that would be based more on melodrama than reality. But still, sad little whisper of a journal hidden somewhere amongst the vast existence of the internet. "That's poetic. That's pathetic." (please name the source and I'll love you)
Some part of me feels inextricably bound to him - there are parts of our lives interwoven which will never be truly mine, like a vascularized tumor that you cut out but loose the arteries latched onto it. Then there's an unforgetable part of me telling me 'he's not right' over and over and over, watch the red flags as they raise themselves over and across images of his pretty face and big <>.
Some part of me feels inextricably bound to him - there are parts of our lives interwoven which will never be truly mine, like a vascularized tumor that you cut out but loose the arteries latched onto it. Then there's an unforgetable part of me telling me 'he's not right' over and over and over, watch the red flags as they raise themselves over and across images of his pretty face and big <>.