(no subject)
Why does it take for me to see High Fidelity or listen to fucking Ben Folds before I have the balls to consider sharing my thoughts when there’s something important to me? There’s something at stake, so I can’t risk being socially awkward?! Like my actions on any other day of the fucking week aren’t? Maybe that’s it, I’m expressing frustration for my inability to take romantic risks…. Fuck, I blame Meg for this, now I’m psychoanalyzing myself. But seriously, I’m an outgoing, Jack Black-ish personality. He’s never got a girl, he’s fucking comic relief. Cool as shit, and funny, but comic relief… So what do I do? I fucking mope and imagine myself “bathed in Breña”… thanks a fucking lot Maynard.