tagging frogs
I've been boring lately, or at least predictable. And I don't feel pretty in comparison. I've been awfully judgmental, when really I'm never like that. I try to pass it off as honesty but its really my bitterness poking through. Someone gave their first impression of me, and it wasn't bad, but I felt as if it was kinder than it actually was. I don't want a pity case, I'm the quiet mouse that tries to squeek on by. Speaking in front of people lately for some reason has greatly disturbed me. I've always been shy always in a sense meek but lately I'm shaking I'm so off balance from something. Its awfully cold in here I've been thinking I've been thinking I don't have to die like this, I should go off in style go off in style. BUrr. TIck tick tick. that sunflower gives me hope that maybe I'll be warm some distant day. I kind of like nights like this, when crawling is my access to warmth. understanding is not mutual right now. curly curly benjamin franklins. curly hair takes so loong to grow. ok, still tiresome. but I know in a small way, I'm not good enough for you. You're probably looking at me and thinking to yourself, there's something better out there. I guess I'm trying to hard for love. I feel so worthless when I'm around you, trying to always evaluate myself according to you, how does my heart still heart for you? He told me I had done alright. I’m starting this when I’m going to part with it soon. These lights really really really hurt my eyes. Be my hearth that I curl around be my family to feel comfort. It vibrates and moans and deeply wants contact. There’s just too much wax. This class kills me. This is the strong final, roof of my mouth as I lie. And honestly, I don’t care. It scares me more everyday. I claim I did, but I’m lost for words. You are what I dreamed of I thought it might go like this. But I often forget. It tastes like peppermint, and this feels uncomfortable, I’m holding it in and I slant my thoughts. Yes it’s the saddest experience you’ll ever know. Who waters these plants, I can feel the emerging of a sty. Fuck. That guy looked like ernie, but really not at all. Hastily built and could be mistaken for someone you met that one time at that one beer bong tournament and fuck it was tight sick mad rad off the hook. Why do people say the things they do? Get awake get awake, quickly! Must look alive. Stop the scratching. Decisions to be made. And so the conversation turned until the sun went down. Being petty can be so easy. I can be horrible though at all familiar times. Follie what do you see in me? Your first impression of me, am I ok at the initial awkward first glances? I need escape perhaps to a delightful sakura square for mochi and juice and beef cakes and and dammit. I should go. I’m afraid all the things my father said about me are true, or at least, they’re becoming true. The bad stuff is easier to believe. The first time he’s really laughed tonight was playing video games, and the scar tissue stiffens. Thinking about my dad breaks my heart and the many secrets I must keep makes me weaker. It’s just, what if I repeat the same horrible mistakes? Will I become my father in all of his gruesome ways? Honestly, I’ve never loved anyone fully, trying to protect what little I have, but I’m scared and the scar tissue is so stiff, can I make it move? Does he hear me, see me? I’m a mess he doesn’t want to clean up, but must I be a mess at all? I’m used to being treated like this; I’m just naïve enough to fall for it every time. I know that I should practice what I preach, but I don’t believe in myself and its becoming more evident as I go along. Please don’t ignore my plea. I can’t speak for fear that you’ll hate me for it in the end. I can only taste salt and throbbing pain these days. Ignoring this is making me believe I deserve this, that I deserve what happened…and honestly I know I don’t, but I can’t erase what he said. Why is so much of my self worth wrapped up in my father’s word? A man’s word? Why can’t I practice what I preach? Why am I not stronger? I hate belly button piercing, it’s fine if you have one, I just don’t find them attractive. Fuck, I’m going to be tired tomorrow. God he hurts me so very much, I’ve got to fold cauz these hands are too shaky to hold. The misery of feeling something, you really are my fantasy, and I constantly question my worth around you. I always think of what he says in the back of my head and it contradicts everything you say about me. I’ve got nothing to give you, you see. Except everything, everything. Spider bites all over, god I feel uncomfortable in my skin. Four vacuum cleaners and two golf bags. Right now I really don’t have a whole lot of people to talk to about this shit, and even then none of its fucking reliable. I’m trying not to be so dependent, but I really should talk to someone. Ok, this journal should probably stop, I should actually do productive things and write in real journals that I don’t have to pretend in, it really needs to stop.
