b thang.

[newest]
so what, is, this.
why do i have to have an opinion, why do i have to disagree with the system why have i go to be so fucking argumentative.
today has sometimes been really great and sometimes really miserable. i think sometimes i am abit miserable because it doesnt quite fit yet, yknow?
i think when my friend Guy is sad it makes me really sad, and when he's happy i am. we are like brother and sister or something.
look
i know how you feel and i enjoy discussing. but i mean DISCUSSING not MEAN-TONE-OF-VOICE, RAISED VOLUME RED FACED ARGUING. I JUST DONT CARE ABOUT IT THAT MUCH OKAY.
i can design an opinion. i can write a persuasive, uplifintg, humourous speech with all these linguistic FEATURES these fucking TERMS like phatic utterance and anaphoric reference and THAT is okay.
i can understand the other side of any argument. a couple of things i cant, i cant agree with. most things though i can understand so JUST LET ME POSE THE OPPOSITE.
LET ME INTERUPT THIS GUTTARAL FLOW OF ANNOYANCE AND CONTINUAL FUCKING IRASCIBILITY.
oh you dumb fucks i bought out the big guns.
i love you.
you know really i actually do. even though sometimes just normal things or sad things or petty things get in the way or just fly around infront of it like a cellophane moth sticking to the tv show you really LIKE, even though, i still deeply love you. i remembered that time we talked for hours about depressing things and it's just nice to hear someone who thinks like me in an unfamiliar way.
it's always been like that for me, we've been so.. fitting, for/with/to each other but we've never, ever had to shove it in each other's faces or only had our lo-hove to talk about. i care about you as an actual person and i think that's so good it makes me feel just, proud, to have you under me (not like that but that too) and around me and in the back of me like, a bookmark you keep at the back until you need to mark a place. and the places are specal times i remember. which really is all of it.
you make me feel like i dont even know anymore when we're together im so, me and normal and me that i cant even tell where the physical space between us is anymore or if it's shrunk so little we're one big duvet kind of soft mess or if we are puzzle pieces that go clop like a big puzzle and youre the box you keep me in. sometimes when you touch me my sleepy head fills with colours and images and little scenes from imaginary plays like we hold hands and i get:
brightly coloured plastic things for children, turqouise, yellow purple black in the sun.
and you stroke my back and my shoulders and i get layers of brown and mint and pink spread like a kite taking off.
so, you make me trip. a touch from you brings a red shape from sleepy smoky darkness and you make me trip until everything all these images appear like tiny fireworks in my subconcious lying in your room like a big bath of you and your stuff and i trip.
commentz