Why do I have a journal? I never use it.

Someone please tell me to go fuck off.

I don't care about the Christmas holiday, but I pretend to. Otherwise I don't get presents, and we all know that's what this season is all about: me getting presents.

Yeah bitch.

Today is his birthday. I can't believe I remember it. Why? I can't even remember doing anything special on any of his birthdays. I can't remember celebrating any of them. And I hear he's married with a kid. A daughter, I think. It's so odd. I used to think we would be married one day. I thought he was The One, as I had never felt that way before. ( Read more... )

Everyone keeps saying different things to me.

I have to believe in what I see, and not by false words. My eyes rarely decieve me.

Papagos! FUCK.

Cheetos in bed with a small light and a notebook, missing pages ( Read more... )

She sits.
She waits.
Gray clouds follow
in the dark
and she can see them.
As she sits
and waits
for him.

More and more I wonder if I should privatize my posts.

Those who have Friends Only journals are LJ whores.

Conundrum.

( Read more... )

Fuck you for making me stalk you.
Fuck you for creating an obsession that I cannot leave.
Fuck you for being there first.
Fuck you for making memories that I cannot touch.
Fuck you for not changing.
Fuck you for having too much of a history.
Fuck me for not being more mature while dealing with it.
Fuck me for surviving that first attempt.

I need professional help.

Goodnight.