debriefing? alrighty

They all disgust me
with their looks, glances rather, and I just glare. It isn't even worth turning away, I just want to scream into their supposed "love"-struck eyes, and shake their fragile bodies in my clammy hands. Wrapping each of my knuckly fingers around their arms and squeeze the hope out of their skin. I want to feel their pulses in my palms, feel the skin turning red. Each time I see one of them exchange a smile, or a laugh, I just want to take a shotgun to their jaws. Happiness, romance, none of it is allowed in the halls. They need to stop, and just discover that it is short-lived. You only ever win once, and that has a 50/50 survival rate. So, for the sake of their long-term romances, and for my sanity, I'm going to kiss this postcard off into the wind, as I am too, an invisible monster.


Onto another topic, AM1610 is the reason I exist, or so my car decided. I was trying to fast forward a cassette, and my car just decided to tune itself to 1610, and then, Good Day Sunshine filled the car, and then shortly after, another Beatles' song came, and then some John Mayer! Next thing you know, I'm sitting there, on the edge of my car seat, anticipating the next song; I totally forgot about the cassette.

I want a radio in my room.


Onto yet another topic, I wish to feel pain again. Real, true, and honest physical pain, excruciating too. Like, post-surgical pain. It's been too long, and I don't like it. I also want to leave the city again sometime. I'd love to fly again, it has also been way too long since I felt the world below me as I make an escape to the bigger picture. Also, it has been too long since I last hugged him. Thursday, February 18th, around 9pm, I believe. But, what can you do?


What else? Oh, I'm beyond stressed these days. I wish I could just pause time for a little. Maybe take a month off?

I feel like I have too much pent inside, but I have no way of letting it out anymore. Talking about it makes me sick, writing about it makes me sicker. I can see the ink drip from each letter. All I ever end up writing is 'Fuck You' and that always turns into 'I want to ...'

Just a big mix up, this was NOT supposed to happen to me. haha. If only. If only she could just crawl out of the emptiness and leave me alone, and then return with my sanity, if only. If only she could crawl out of my heart with the same shotgun that would be used on those happy lovebirds, and just blow him out of my heart/my mind/my soul/my spirit/my past/my future/my life. Return to me, with a gun covered in brain matter, and jaw bone marrow. But then again, what would I wallow about? She should just stay hidden and depressed in my chest cavity. She shouldn't be so demanding though, she should also tell her brother, down in my gut, to stay out of my life, and that growling won't really get you anywhere.

all of these words, do they mean anything? are they just words, or are they my chance? my chance to forget. My goodness, my life seems so small. I want to listen to music, but I don't.