d*land

Take Your Lessons Hard.

Was heading for something
Won't leave her alone

And the answer is: Believe what ever makes it easier for you, Carie.

The interpretation is: What ever your worst fears were happened.

I'm left with what ever my imagination can come up with, and I hate when I can't follow my own advice. Don't ask questions you can't accept the answers to.

But still, it was a quiet sucker punch to the stomach. I haven't cried as much as I expected. Just three times.

These are not tears of mourning. I feel like the whole thing was a sham, I know when someone tells you they don't want a relationship right now they really mean they don't want a relationship with you. I just didn't think he meant me.

Twice in every way
They lead a life you can forget now

No matter how I try, I cannot rationalize this away. I can think I need to let it go, I can want it to go, but nothing can change the way I feel.

Nights and nights and nights haunt me. Words haunt me. That sick feeling of waiting haunts me, and my mind is just so full of his fucking smell.

Logic is no match for what lays in your heart. All of your friends can beat you over the head with what you should do, but all that's come of me is chain smoking in my bathroom.

On top of a jealous home
She feels she could connect it

Just take all of this, with the memories. And no. It's not better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Fuck that. I don't want the lessons I've learned from this. I want ignorance, and bliss. I want stupidity.

I want this core I carry with me to leave, and I want to be empty, because nothing is better than this anger.

I want to not be psycho. I want to be sane. I want to be an adult about this. I want to be mature and handle this appropriately.

I want to call his voicemail and tell him what he is. I want to drive to California and beat the living fucking shit out of the bitch that's blowing him. I want to slash his tires, and piss on his car. I want him fired and homeless. I want him in a closet, crying and pathetic.

I want him chain smoking over his toilet wishing he could flush himself down with the ashes.

I want you to understand that I am not capable of doing these things. I'm not even capable of saying them out loud. This doesn't stop me from gaining some pleasure in thinking about them.

Follow your heart.
Follow your heart.
Follow. Your. Heart.

My heart likes to jump off of fifty story buildings and land in the gutter. It's obviously a sadistic prick, and so instead of following my heart, I'm going to follow my head.

My head says to give up trying to explain myself, take a bath, masturbate, and go to sleep.

Don't try
You'll never win
You can never be Him.

11.26.02 || 6:12 pm

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