insta-pissed

I look good today, I'm just going to say it. There was no possible way she could have not looked at me. I wanted her to look at me, in the bad way. I want her to hate me. Each curl on my head was perfect, the boots on my feet clicked in rhythm, my eyelashes batted slowly, and I know that all she wanted was to be anywhere else. There is so fear in me my dear, and you. Are. A waste.

This suicide file song has never been more legitament..

"The irony is that you totally suck! You can look down on me and I don't give a fuck! 'Cause I hate assholes who hide behind fashion. Who live life devoid of emotion or passion. All style and no substance, you're flesh without bone. Another footsoldier in an army of clones. So fuck your snide ways and your snotty asides I fucking hate you and all of your kind!"

On another note, This morning I realized that I am living a fake desire, it took an email and phone call to confirm this. I'm semi-glad that I am not a blunt person and speak slightly metaphorical on my blogspot. Otherwise there would be no suprise factor in my writing and you would all know my deets.

I wrote something today, which is also metaphorical. HENCE 1) I am not a he. 2) contradictory is my life, but not quite as dramatic. Even though, Kyle would beg to differ 3) it is broad enough that you wouldn't understand my life. And you don't. Great! I will leave you with this: I am a mystery wrapped in an enigma. I am a secret. I love to write;

"and the scorn of his laugh rein free, the clouds all alligned and he looked up as his face turned yellow. He let go of the balloons and ran back to her, of all the places to end up he realized he was generally happy with where he was. All he could smell was nectar and war, all he could feel was peace and pain. All he wanted to hear was "this is life, man." -me

Peace out, fellaz