i hate it i hate it i hate it i hate it i hate it i hate it i hate it i hate it i hate it i hate it
I don't get it. I don't know. I just don't know.
I'm not like this. I don't break down like this; I don't have these delusions and fantasies. I don't cry like this! What is wrong with me?
I'm sorry, I completely forgot what I was doing for a moment. What I meant by starting this humble little note, was to explain the story of my self depreciation. My complete and total meltdown of composure: My boyfriend.
He had to be the cutest thing I had ever seen in my life. And by that statement, I mean it literally. I travelled across the nation with my family while my father was in the Air Force, and I've seen some really gorgeous guys. Phenomenal guys. Disgustingly cute ones, okay? And at times, I swore I was looking at the most gorgeous man on the planet, but I never was. There was always someone cuter in Toledo or Hot Springs, North Carolina. Each consecutive move brought another batch of babes that I swore on my eyes were the best looking bachelors (sometimes, not bachelors as well) in existence, but this one, this guy, he is the complete persona of handsome.
Barry. Barry Mitchell. Isn't that such a dumb name, such an ugly name? Such a misnomer for this angel on earth, I tell you it is a shame. But that was his name - is his name. His boring name. And at first, I found him utterly boring as well. So obviously masculine was he, womanizing every vagina in sight, talking dirty with all the guys, betting money on the dumbest of things, that I completely shunned him. Would any girl of my esteem and class condescend to such a schmuck with itching balls as he? I think not.
(fiction, completely disgusting fiction, i wish i could write, i really do)
I'm not like this. I don't break down like this; I don't have these delusions and fantasies. I don't cry like this! What is wrong with me?
I'm sorry, I completely forgot what I was doing for a moment. What I meant by starting this humble little note, was to explain the story of my self depreciation. My complete and total meltdown of composure: My boyfriend.
He had to be the cutest thing I had ever seen in my life. And by that statement, I mean it literally. I travelled across the nation with my family while my father was in the Air Force, and I've seen some really gorgeous guys. Phenomenal guys. Disgustingly cute ones, okay? And at times, I swore I was looking at the most gorgeous man on the planet, but I never was. There was always someone cuter in Toledo or Hot Springs, North Carolina. Each consecutive move brought another batch of babes that I swore on my eyes were the best looking bachelors (sometimes, not bachelors as well) in existence, but this one, this guy, he is the complete persona of handsome.
Barry. Barry Mitchell. Isn't that such a dumb name, such an ugly name? Such a misnomer for this angel on earth, I tell you it is a shame. But that was his name - is his name. His boring name. And at first, I found him utterly boring as well. So obviously masculine was he, womanizing every vagina in sight, talking dirty with all the guys, betting money on the dumbest of things, that I completely shunned him. Would any girl of my esteem and class condescend to such a schmuck with itching balls as he? I think not.
(fiction, completely disgusting fiction, i wish i could write, i really do)