It's funny how big of a dick I am. I'm not an ordinary dick, either. I'm an erect one, with the semen of my angst spewing out in a million directions.
I don't know.
Ah, I wish...
I wish I could mean something. I sound angsty and stupid, but I don't know how I could say it in any other way: I wish people could really like me for a good reason. I wish the whole world would pay attention to me. I wish I was something significant. But until then, I wish people would stop liking me and get out of my life.
And then I really wish I could express this in some way or another without sounding like an angsty teen blogger.
Really. I mean it. I really piss myself off.
Showing posts with label failtasticism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label failtasticism. Show all posts
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Memories and love stuff
As I was packing, I found a bunch of stuff from 7th and 8th grade.
Two years isn't so much, you can't stay in love forever, and feelings aren't everything in a relationship.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Want and neon signs
I think perhaps what you want means a million times more than what you have...
I wish the whole world and every sad person could hear that tonight, and believe it,
and I wish I could believe it as well...
I wish the whole world and every sad person could hear that tonight, and believe it,
and I wish I could believe it as well...
Sleepover, fishing trip
On Friday I spent the whole day shopping, wasted $20 (and some borrowed money) in stickers and nail polish and jewelry until evening.
I left with:
Fate was a pervert and awesome, and she placed our hotel room across from Crabby Dick's, where we ate dinner and shot a few photos for memories. A subsequent photo-shoot at Wal-mart added 100 more pictures to the camera.
That night, a documentary on ghosts came on. Bedtime at 11, and I slept at 1. It was hot, my friend took the whole bed because he was scared, and I sat up several times to wipe the sweat.
It's a good thing that it got colder later that night, or I would have stayed up forever. Unfortunately, my sleeping bag was on the floor.
"Humans can lick too."
The next day, awakened at 7 or 8 and read Twilight through the light from between the blinds. It was raining again. My friend wanted to sleep, so I turned the alarm off for him.
Checking out of the hotel was the hard part. No guy wants to be caught dead reading Twilight, especially by hordes of high school cheerleaders on vacation.
Edward Cullen, Bella Swan, Jacob Black, Mary Sue.
We didn't fish; we just watched. Fishing is animal cruelty.
My friend almost cried for them. I only wish I could.
My Chemical Romance, perverted jokes, sand castles and popsicles passed time under rainy skies until dinner, and then perverted jokes and birds and bees stole the ride home. No aliens attacked our car that night, though. Fate was on our side again.
A new language to confuse curious parental eavesdroppers, too.
She was gone when I got back. I still had the bracelet.
I kept wondering why she still liked me, and so much more than I like her.
Out on the bridge before class on Sunday, I cried a little for I don't know why.
I wasn't even sad, I don't think.
I left with:
One (1) My Chemical Romance sticker
One (1) Marilyn Monroe sticker
One (1) Grateful Dead skull with shrooms inside sticker
One (1) fate-deciding seaweed bracelet that grows in water
One (1) color-changing nail polish for someone special
Fate was a pervert and awesome, and she placed our hotel room across from Crabby Dick's, where we ate dinner and shot a few photos for memories. A subsequent photo-shoot at Wal-mart added 100 more pictures to the camera.
That night, a documentary on ghosts came on. Bedtime at 11, and I slept at 1. It was hot, my friend took the whole bed because he was scared, and I sat up several times to wipe the sweat.
It's a good thing that it got colder later that night, or I would have stayed up forever. Unfortunately, my sleeping bag was on the floor.
"Humans can lick too."
The next day, awakened at 7 or 8 and read Twilight through the light from between the blinds. It was raining again. My friend wanted to sleep, so I turned the alarm off for him.
Checking out of the hotel was the hard part. No guy wants to be caught dead reading Twilight, especially by hordes of high school cheerleaders on vacation.
Edward Cullen, Bella Swan, Jacob Black, Mary Sue.
We didn't fish; we just watched. Fishing is animal cruelty.
My friend almost cried for them. I only wish I could.
My Chemical Romance, perverted jokes, sand castles and popsicles passed time under rainy skies until dinner, and then perverted jokes and birds and bees stole the ride home. No aliens attacked our car that night, though. Fate was on our side again.
A new language to confuse curious parental eavesdroppers, too.
"Maybe why can't fish tell sticks when they're blue? Maybe sticks are usually pretty open about it."
"Maybe which tastes better: fins or tail?"
"Maybe have you ever gotten blue looking at the SH fish?"
"Maybe not......................"
"Maybe these parents are either complete idiots or pretending to not understand."
She was gone when I got back. I still had the bracelet.
I kept wondering why she still liked me, and so much more than I like her.
Out on the bridge before class on Sunday, I cried a little for I don't know why.
I wasn't even sad, I don't think.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Today I...
I had my art finals today.
Everyone at my table was doing pretty badly, even my friend who's usually just about the greatest artist in the class. But halfway through the period, that really seriously cute girl who sits at the other table lifts up her picture and....
She's a better artist.
I knew it all along, but she'd compliment my works so much that perhaps for a second I believed I was better.
Whatever.
I spent the rest of the period scribbling snakes and Alice-isms and ecstasy all over my picture.
It turns out there are better artists than me, better speakers than me, better writers than me. What does that make me? I'm pink again on that graph, right? Or lower...
My invincibility left.
Logic goes poof when emotions sink in.
A poof-kitty...
Everyone at my table was doing pretty badly, even my friend who's usually just about the greatest artist in the class. But halfway through the period, that really seriously cute girl who sits at the other table lifts up her picture and....
She's a better artist.
I knew it all along, but she'd compliment my works so much that perhaps for a second I believed I was better.
Whatever.
I spent the rest of the period scribbling snakes and Alice-isms and ecstasy all over my picture.
It turns out there are better artists than me, better speakers than me, better writers than me. What does that make me? I'm pink again on that graph, right? Or lower...
My invincibility left.
Logic goes poof when emotions sink in.
A poof-kitty...
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