Click for Love Story of the Day.
I am finally settling down to type this properly. This post was created something like 5 hours ago but there was too much emotions in me for me to able to put them into words. So I slept, because sleeping is the next best thing to do when you are overwhelmed with emotions, since there was no alcohol.
I have been so emotional lately. I don’t even understand how the fuck can I be so sad over something ridiculously trivial for a couple of hours and before I know it I’m high as fuck. But behold, because something like a sad tweet will just send me plummeting down a swirl of melancholy. And cycle repeats itself infinitely.
Yesterday, I was in town after MSP. I was so fucking sad over not getting the Too Faced set that I was actually at the verge of tears. Like what the actual fuck. (Am I swearing too much?)
I need it, I really do.
God has been knocking on my window lately. I don’t know. I mean, I’m sorry but what can I do when I cannot get myself to believe wholly in the Christianity package? I mean, yeah I guess there’s probably a god that I, on rare occasions, sense but not everything in the package makes sense to me. It’s either I’m in or I’m out. If I can’t get in, then staying out seems to be the only option left. I’m sorry, really. I’d really love to love You like I did, and be all passionate about coming to You and spreading the joy of having You in my life. You know, I do miss those days. I miss when we were close, when I knew I could call on You anytime, anywhere. I miss having You as my closest friend, one that gathers up the pieces of me even as I crumble. It sucks to be fucked up in the head. It sucks to have fucked up. It sucks to feel ashamed to come home. I miss You, I do.
On a brighter note, it felt good to have told somebody things that I’ve never whispered to a soul. I wasn’t done, though. I wish I could have talked on and on and on. For hours. It’s terribly tiring to have carried the burden of a carefully concealed history all this way. It was heavenly, to let down my guards, to let go, even just for a little. I’m really just hoping that you are what you make me think you are, even though it seems a little too perfect, too good to be true.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be
Let the more loving one be me.
I know I sound like a whimp, but I’m really tired of being at the verge of tears all the time. Do you know the feeling, of your heart caving in deeper and deeper, lungs shrinking, tear ducts swelling, fingertips shivering, and skull contracting, squeezing every bit of sanity out of you? Do you know it?
I am panting so much.
And, random but: