R.T. kflajfljdlfjaljf

Jul 29th, 2009 3:38:43 pm - Subscribe
Mood: lonely
lovely things:: formulaic romcoms

Monday morning was by far the worst. Prior mornings have been either busy with fretting over how to get through work with minimal waterworks or trying to sleep at some strange house on an uncomfortable couch while attempting to quell another consecutive whiskey hangover (a bottle a day keeps the thoughts away!). But monday was truly awful...
Lying in bed while all the debris slowly washed up on me. Fragments of conversations, inside jokes (fuck those formed so quickly and easily), nights, those long lovely mornings, traces of warmth, the smells, smiles, the looks and laughter. Everything that can't be there anymore.

I may have discovered the worst feeling in the world. Funny how it so seamlessly follows a blissful period of the best feeling in the world.
A white to black rapid flurry of change. And words. Followed by a red crash. No prelude, no nothing. Just all that raw emotion because I cannot help but be such a fucking girl that is incapable of being graceful about anything.

As Sarah said. A punch to the face. Why would you try and get punched again?
You'd think that only a complete masochist would willingly go through that again.

Maybe I really should go and fall in 'love' (just pretend) with some hard working italian man. One with a hairy back and a penchant for tossing out compliments. I hear they do that lots over there.
Just run off. Chopped off hair is one step closer to a new me with more sense and blocks in place. Like a mini moat. Alligators and all that toothy shit before you get entry into that fuzzy warm red place (and don't be dirty now).

Things were going too well and so it was time to quit.
Try and understand that.
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