I can't say that me & the Boy are at the junction of 'too much, too soon.' I'm not planning on marrying/ having sex with/ persuing (too much further) him.
...rather, it's become a case where I get what I want, in buckets and galumph-fuls. evidently, he likes me more than I like him. I'm not sure what happened but the spark's gone. maybe I never really liked him that much that way - just looking for a comfortable situation and for someone to adore me.
jeez, that sounds so bad.
I *will* wait til after exams.
he deserves *that* much at least.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
like a comet pulled from orbit & a satellite from your heart
...somehow it manages to navigate in spite of it all.
this teenage angst thing is highly unimpressive. it needs to be gotten over. I don't want to be the girl bleating in the corner 'why don't people like me as much as I like them?'
simple. I am a douchebag who rarely makes time for others.
I need to get over myself. today I had a wild moment. a footloose, fancy-free moment where I contemplated getting out of bed and takin' everythang. to fly a little bit inside and to do something real because my god for one minute I felt cold, hard and fearless. maybe a little more than a minute.
I don't know what I am to do with myself. chess captain is hardly a position one goes for when one has just spent the last year ridding herself of the last vestiges. who am I kidding? no, really. it's not going to go away, because just like every other thing in my life, I'm not over it.
...and to boot, I can't find the Russian resources on the school server, I forgot the link to StudyWiz, I have no decent fiction & I can't relax.
sigh.
just get over yourself, girlie. just do it.
this teenage angst thing is highly unimpressive. it needs to be gotten over. I don't want to be the girl bleating in the corner 'why don't people like me as much as I like them?'
simple. I am a douchebag who rarely makes time for others.
I need to get over myself. today I had a wild moment. a footloose, fancy-free moment where I contemplated getting out of bed and takin' everythang. to fly a little bit inside and to do something real because my god for one minute I felt cold, hard and fearless. maybe a little more than a minute.
I don't know what I am to do with myself. chess captain is hardly a position one goes for when one has just spent the last year ridding herself of the last vestiges. who am I kidding? no, really. it's not going to go away, because just like every other thing in my life, I'm not over it.
...and to boot, I can't find the Russian resources on the school server, I forgot the link to StudyWiz, I have no decent fiction & I can't relax.
sigh.
just get over yourself, girlie. just do it.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
this is sounding like a tired reprise
from people left long long ago. still.
I'm fucking sick of being taken for fucking granted and I'm completely over putting people first. I don't give a shit if you're on a tram being fucked up the ass by some 6'7 alligator with strawberry jam, you're being rude and I'M DOING YOU A FAVOUR by even listening to you with a SAC the next day.
& to C, can you *get* any more retarded? You'd curry more favour if you spent five hundred bucks on me, loser. And you know what, that might actually be proportionate to the shit I *gave* about your sanity. Not to be a loser, but jesus f-christ, 'The God Delusion' is not an appropriate birthday gift. BOOKS NEVER ARE. the gift you're giving A, however, *is,* and also happens to be awesome.
A, who you haven't talked to in a month or so. Yeah. Smart. You obviously think highly of me.
Douchebag.
Seriously.
no love,
me.
I am, however, two kilos thinner. Five more to go before I have something resembling 'beach body.' Here's to the getting of a waist.
I'm fucking sick of being taken for fucking granted and I'm completely over putting people first. I don't give a shit if you're on a tram being fucked up the ass by some 6'7 alligator with strawberry jam, you're being rude and I'M DOING YOU A FAVOUR by even listening to you with a SAC the next day.
& to C, can you *get* any more retarded? You'd curry more favour if you spent five hundred bucks on me, loser. And you know what, that might actually be proportionate to the shit I *gave* about your sanity. Not to be a loser, but jesus f-christ, 'The God Delusion' is not an appropriate birthday gift. BOOKS NEVER ARE. the gift you're giving A, however, *is,* and also happens to be awesome.
A, who you haven't talked to in a month or so. Yeah. Smart. You obviously think highly of me.
Douchebag.
Seriously.
no love,
me.
I am, however, two kilos thinner. Five more to go before I have something resembling 'beach body.' Here's to the getting of a waist.
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