therapy for the soul, torture for the mind.

i tried to ignore the fact that i had a blog for the past few months. secretly though, it's been nawing at me for neglecting it. and for that i apologise dear rants and rants and rants for candy.
today has been a very clear self pity day, which is sad because that seems to be the only times i feel like "blogging". i'm pretty sure this building of self loathing started today around 4:35 when i entered staduim 8 with full intentions to watch and enjoy my sister's keeper. there is no way i could have prepared myself for the predictable 20 minute tear jerkers, nay the tear demanders that film produced. being the stone heart i am, i earnestly tried to ignore all of the demanders but it was really really really hard and strenuous. i found myself basically exhausted at 6:30 when the film was over.
that need for a good hard cry has not let up in the six hours after that show. it's now about 12:30 and despite my truest efforts, i am still fighting against the grain to keep my face dry.

for the first time in my life i am praying for bad dreams to drain this need from me.

friday night syndrom

It’s 1:30 on a Friday night. For the third day in a row I’ve gotten myself all dolled up only to wash off the makeup and throw the clothes in the hamper after never even leaving the house. I’m sitting in my green circle chair. I know it’s name isn’t really circle chair, but I’ve never been able to remember the foreign word that’s it’s actually called. the cotton of the seat has worn through from these past 6 months and I can feel the bent bamboo sticks beneath me. I have to shift every four minutes just to say comfortable. Nothing interests me as I sift through colourful web pages but I can’t shut it off. I settle with youtube. There’s a strange sense of presence that comes from this waste of time and space. Although those people have no idea who I am, I know who they are. I get to know them. They’re my only social escape. I play a 4:35 minute vlog as I get ready for bed, listening to Nerimon’s day about taking his girlfriend back to the airport. She lives in America, he lives in London. what I wouldn’t give to have what they have.

Am I a pessimist? No. I’m a keeper of facts, Only knowing what I’ve observed. And I act solely on just that. He’s put other things before you countless times, he’ll do it again. he lies to you to get what he wants, he’s not going to stop now. Honestly, he doesn’t care about you. Actions speak louder than words my friend.