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29.12.04
i am aware of the irony in that exclamation mark
i should be forced to have a shower when i feel like this.
i should learn the lyrics to 'celia and the silhouette saloon'.
i seriously need someone to undress me and put my glasses on the side and put me under the shower, when it's really hot.
honestly though, i'm so (much effort put into saying this word here, ifi was speaking) steeeupid, i mean i KNOW im gunna be like it nd i KNOW whyy, but so why do i let myself fester in it? you know when you neeed a shower or a bath (if that's your forté) and your hair is all yucky and you just need one. like that, it makes me feel strange. basically i blame the fact that i am so horrendously lazy. also the fact there's no you, but..yes, whatever. i'm jjust, such a procrastinator, y'know? i just waste my time on this and that and lying on the carpet imaginaing kissing you, leaning on the board and smelling rubber, my book: it's paper and paint. i guess that's wee-ud isnt it? my whole art book collection, it's just made out of 2d lines of pencil and charcoal and ink and paint and paper and sometimes card, and you think it is awesome. which i guess is marvellous too. i like that i can draw. i hope i never lose my hands.
oh, lisa simpson, how i wish i could share your dream of adulthood. all i see is grey, and my life in slices, each with a song of it's own. this one (drunk kid catholic - brighteyes) reminds me of summer, though it has rainy parts. some albums make me fucking cry like hell. some make me smile and remind me of sand.
it mostly seems grey, third story, white cold window sills: this is the only reality i can imagine, vaguevaguevague. my imagined reality is not my proper imagination. my proper one is almost forbidden now. i can't imagine it at will, it is too good for me i think. i'm so depressive! half the time i am dying for my owwwwn story with red old covers, more than half the time. the other fraction i'm okay with now. and sometimes, some grey times, i feel like this.
and what am i going to do? what the fuck am i going to do about it?
everything get's worse with time, you just get better at dealing with it. you can't reverse things, and the only way to make the giants small is to make the city grow.
(thankyou powerpuff girls).
i'll just carry on and like it and whatever, there are no full stops yet.
i keep typing commas in stead of full-stops. do you think my sub-concious is trying to tell me something?
whispered by killa b at 8:54 PM |
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