|
|
|
May 14th, 2009
12:40 am - .o8
I hate her sometimes. I hate the way she sleeps. She's like a sloth. I hate the way she lurches around. I hate the way she sends mixed signals. I'm almost sick of it. I'm sick already. I don't need more sick.
Sick.
She needs a haircut. She's lazy. She's one of the most productive lazy people I know. It's uncharacteristic for a Leo. It really is.
Take what you want and get it.
Well, that says something. I'm left in the dust. Again.
|
01:08 am
My mother mentioned something about a lack of passion. I know where she's coming from. She's more wise than I'll ever know, even though she doesn't know it.
I think want to leave you.
I'm sick of sitting awake by myself. I'm sick of knowing that I would be the one to fuck up relationships and all of a sudden you're a saint because I got tired of making a ruckus..
...is that all? Is that all I should be praising you for? I think you've been the first functional friend I've ever had. Aside from that, I don't think I love you.
I don't, and it's sad. I want to find something redeeming in you that makes me feel justified being drawn to our relationship and you've just grown dim. You've decided that sleep is more important. I think sleep is your physical metaphor for avoiding me or needing "you" time and by god if you were vocal in your needs for "you" time I'd be more apt to give it to you.
I know because I read your black, paper-bound mind.
I'm vocal. I'm trying. You're quiet. You're giving up. How is this conducive to a functioning relationship?
Sans passion? Pro-liquor budget? This is not love.
This is also sans-drama, pro-inner thought. This is what happens when you leave me to my online bliggity-blogs and expressive devices. It's inner reflection and if you had more of a presence maybe I wouldn't realize how unhappy I am with you, your contrite ways and "wonder"-ness as so lovingly quoted by Vee.
She's often right you know.
♥
[oo1. finally.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
Scribbld |