curiouser

9/22/08 05:31 am - why is i

I have so far suppressed the profound urge to stand outside of your window in my nightgown at some misty & dark morning hour, and shout "WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO" at my own reflection in the panes.
A Phone Call: the calmly diluted tribute to that feeling, which becomes all at once not so calm as my voice slips and falls and shatters into a hundred tiny pieces that do not resemble words at all. (Have you ever tried to glue a teacup back together?)
Sometimes I wish I could just whimper like a dog and be understood, but I am almost positive that the dogs would only pretend to relate to what I say, head tilted sideways, then hump my leg and never return my telephone calls...
Cue the long-winded explanation of how busy you are, which translated by a dagger to the heart means that our entire friendship does not exist anywhere outside my imagination. I am left floored as I always am when forced to realize that my own romantic musings can hold no water in the real world, yet still I stand ankle deep in wet humility wondering why we can't live forever in a lopsided treehouse and handstitch tiny hats to keep all the gentle woodland creatures warm in the wintertime.
Aquarius/Pisces + Capricorn/Aquarius = Fairy Tales:
You work in a trendy clothing store that I despise and I eat at Mcdonalds when I'm not half-assedly starving myself. I'll stay the night if only we can talk a little bit before you press yourself on me, if only I can pretend you're so much different as you leave marks all over my body while I'm half asleep. Besides, if I can be warm for ten minutes then maybe I can forget that I have no future, and that I HAVE NO FRIENDS AND I WANT TO DIE,
happily ever after.

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curiouser

9/22/08 05:31 am - why is i

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