I've always been a novice at keeping up with these things., much less with turning them into something remotely attractive. It's because I don't know HTML at all anymore. How can I expect to be in the mood to post in this if I hate what it looks like? I have so much homework to do, and none of it is actually getting done. I lost something very dear to me recently, but now that it's gone- I realize it never meant that much to begin with. Funny how things work out sometimes, isn't it? However, I am still pleased.
Something Corporate concert March 24th!!!!! Guess who is going? Damn straight. I am going. Me. Yes. Thank you, God. I couldn't believe it when she told me I would be going with her. I feel so special. All right. That's it. I am going to get my work done so that I can see
Passion of the Christ today. I really do want to, even if I don't want to go with
him. I will figure this all out. Someday.
I think I'm over him, after all this time. All this long time of wanting and needing and breaking and bleeding (only figuratively speaking, of course), he's suddenly not important to me. At least, I think he's not. I still dream about him, though. Sweet, pleasant dreams that I never want to go away. How can I survive without these dreams? The anxiety and the pleasure that they bring are insurpassable. Without them, I fear I am somewhat empty.
Why, goddamnit? Why do I feel like such crap? I don't even begin to comprehend what's going wrong. I have it so much better than so many other people. *screams* AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! Shut up. Just shut up. Seriously. I don't give a shit how much you "love" her. I just want to rant. And wallow. Yes, wallowing is always good. Why is everyone always so blind to
my needs and
my feelings. All so wrapped up in what you want and need and feel and think and do and say. Fuck. There goes another one. Another pathetic explanation and half-assed apology only serving to make me feel more meaningless. But all meant in the nicest way possible, of course. No one tries to make me miserable, they just succeed immensely.
It's disgusting, isn't it? The very idea. The very fucking idea. I'm just so repulsed by the thought, and yet I am drawn to it. I cannot control myself. I am simply out of control. What do I want? More importantly, why do I want it? Do I even want it anymore? There are just so many ways to delude yourself; the possibilities are neverending. It's not as if it matters anymore as it is. I am almost sucked in, every time. But at the last minute, I back out again, aware I am making the worst mistake of my life. Or at least my year.
