*i'm not in a place for wanting to hold someone while they fuckin' cry. i'm in a place for someone to fuckin' worship my god damn body. 2002-09-17 3:21 a.m.*

how did this make sense ever? and why does it make sense to write an entry right now when i'm so cried out talked out worn the fuck out.

i should have taken the opportunity to leave the room when the boy went and peed during fuckin' "midnight radio" the best song ever in the history of the world ever. but i mean, this is not about any sort of mental or spiritual connection. this is about the way that we kiss, which is sooo good. when it happens. when he's not bein' a big ol' dorky dumb boy who ignores me until i'm about ready to rip off my skirt and say, "look! pussy!"

since james and i are the kind of exes who curl up in each others beds and cuddle and talk, i've been processing a lot of this at her, and as i said this evening, i want him, i want him really bad. but he's too wrapped up in his stuff to reciprocate, which fucks my shit up in two ways. one, i feel unattractive as all hell, and two, i find myself going into nurture mode like mad when honestly i don't care for him enough to care about him this much.

and as i'm telling someone on im right now, "i was doing so well having no one in my life, and suddenly i have these two people who are eating my soul in their own individual precious ways, thankyouverymuch." i find myself with songs on repeat till late at night, pretending like my room is some sort of glorious cathedral to sad. what was supposed to be some sort of nostringsattached fling that i felt fucking ready for, has turned into me sitting and waiting for him to get over his issues which is turning me into one big ball of misery. a big ball of misery who injured herself, and wailed like a baby in m.i.t.'s arms in the mailroom, today.

a big ball of misery who wants her other creature to figure her shit out so that we can fucking just get a house with a white picket fence.

but i really shouldn't want these things. i should just want these people that live in this room, because we really do have our own little house with a white picket fence over here.

*listening to: *
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