I'm very much loosing my mind.
epiphytes is a nice word. this was not meant as a carefully placed example of a my slowly (rapidly?) eroding mental capabilities, but rather a commentary on the wonders of the english language. I can barely speak it, I lack basic understandings of its structure, but I adore it. Especially commas.
Everyone has suddenly felt the need to tell me that "I need a boy." Its always the same phrasing. And yes, I am aware I do. But i tend to fluctuate between absolute adoration and despair, since it is hardly ever mutual. Yet, when it is, I'm incapable of processing the emotion. I flip from wild excitement, with pounding beats and an inability to control my facial expressions, to one of mad disappointment. It cannot be right, i must be misinformed, i must be a backup, they must be wrong, confused, mad. I'm used to the disappointment, and I lock up.
Isn't that pathetic? I'm seventeen, and haven't had a boyfriend, and still, still, i'm becoming an old maid. I don't want to, i love boys and their idiotic ways and their desperate desire for acceptance and yet.....
I'm unsure. At the risk of sounding egotistical and pretentious, I thought I was fucking pretty for christsake. but I must not be. I must be wrong.
and suddenly this has transformed into another way that I fail, continually. I won't get into college. why the fuck would brown accept me? its nine percent! NINE. there are children with cures to river blindness and bizarre fetishizations of starving children in need of salvation, or the never ending drive to revamp their multibillion dollar, international company.
I got a 64% on my last bio quiz. I do not understand how. I used to get straight As in science. I checked my physics and chem exams, and not one is below a 96.
This is why i obsess-- there has to be one thing, somewhere, that i can be good at. something that makes it ok that there isn't really someone who looks forward to seeing me the next day. I have friends, yes, and wonderful ones at that. But I long for that one person who texts me randomly because a grafitti reminded them of me, or who hears something funny or angering and has to tell me. I don't expect it to last,but even the heartbreak would be better than this.
ugh emoemoemoemo i loathe myself for it. perhaps i'll simply press delete.
Wont you please let me go
These words lie inside they hurt me so
And Im not the kind that likes to tell you
Just what I want to do
Im not the kind that needs to tell you
Just what you want me to
I saw you this morning
I thought that you might like to know
I received your message
And in a few days ago
I understood every word that it said
And now that Ive actually heard it
Youre going to regret
And Im not the kind that likes to tell you
Just what you want me to
Youre not the kind that needs to tell me
About the birds and the bees
Do you find this happens all the time
Crucial point one day becomes a crime
And Im not the kind that likes to tell you
Just what I want to do
Im not the kind that needs to tell you
Ive lost you, Ive lost you, i've lost you
does anyone even read this?
1 comment:
Yea, someone reads it. You're still young, you really are. "Things are simple. But you have to fight for them." Best wishes!
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