on 2004-07-13 @ 1:14 p.m.
Inflicting pain on myself by masking it as joy. Love, love, love. Spins around me like a dream. It is a dream. Listening, reading, watching things that make me pine. That make me weep. That's the kind of girl I am.
A sick, twisted girl.
I'd like to think of myself as someone nostalgic. Because that is such a beautiful word. And a beautiful feeling.
Me trying to be someone I'm not or someone I am.
It's all very confusing.
I pity myself. I'm the fool that pities herself.
I'm desperate.
So, so desperate.
Desperate for someone to recognize me. I'm a selfish bastard. Desperate for things to end. I know. Above all, desparate for love.
If I were you I might even be laughing along. But I'm not. I'm here feeling all of those things and at the same time, feeling sorry for myself.
Because that's the kind of person I really am.
A lonely, selfish bastard craving for romance.
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