Dear Diary, sometimes I think you're the only one who understands me
I have feelings. I used to think there was only one, usually hiding in that black cavern where a heart might usually be. Anyways, they get in the way. When you have to give someone some information about a relationship they're kinda in with you, and nothing comes out of your fingers but some codswallop about breaking up with people as some sort of stigma to force problem-solving - It comes off as selfish. But then again, if you find yourself endlessly trying to express yourself - explain your thoughts... pry along the margins of someone's mind and seem to get far less than you wish for all your efforts. It's stuff like that which brings me to think I'm being a freak. I'm not, I just have something to say. The worst is the fact that online anything carries no expression. It's a facade of cowardice, a mask of pleasantry and a cesspool of language rape. Not that it doesn't make me lauph. That's when I start spelling my name Steghen.
So blah about feeling like a horrible troll on crack when you only want people to know that you want to love them but there's no way you can because you can't see them. A relationship that has no actual time spent together is kinda not really one at all. Then I get upset and feel like so much trash. Baggage? It's over by me on the curb. It's not all that bad, but you know the feeling. I don't care if you don't.
Details, details - The bitches that pull my sleigh. The crap that fucks up reality when you plug it into poor logic. Incorrect logic. Emotional mayhem ensues. I wish I could grab all my emotional crap and hide it beneath a tree, or deep beneath the city. What drives me nuts is that had I been patient, everything would have been fine. If someone came to me and said - I don't see you enough. I want to break up with you because I don't know why you don't accept any of my solutions. You don't tell me why - I would probably drop my jaw and then lay an egg. Maybe two, one being golden and the other a cadbury creme egg, foil intact.
I'm not saying details. I don't need ot bother, because they're useless. But then again, why would I write this shit down in the first place for public consumption. Cause meow, it's hot.
So blah about feeling like a horrible troll on crack when you only want people to know that you want to love them but there's no way you can because you can't see them. A relationship that has no actual time spent together is kinda not really one at all. Then I get upset and feel like so much trash. Baggage? It's over by me on the curb. It's not all that bad, but you know the feeling. I don't care if you don't.
Details, details - The bitches that pull my sleigh. The crap that fucks up reality when you plug it into poor logic. Incorrect logic. Emotional mayhem ensues. I wish I could grab all my emotional crap and hide it beneath a tree, or deep beneath the city. What drives me nuts is that had I been patient, everything would have been fine. If someone came to me and said - I don't see you enough. I want to break up with you because I don't know why you don't accept any of my solutions. You don't tell me why - I would probably drop my jaw and then lay an egg. Maybe two, one being golden and the other a cadbury creme egg, foil intact.
I'm not saying details. I don't need ot bother, because they're useless. But then again, why would I write this shit down in the first place for public consumption. Cause meow, it's hot.