i love

everyone that can make me laugh when I'm being stubborn and morose

by being weird, funny, nonchalant
by telling me jewish bar jokes and saying that they like every putrid quality about me
by getting the chocolate milk and waving it at my face saying "leche" in a squeaky voice
it's not hard to make me sad and it's not hard to make me happy

go figure, I'm sensitive and not many people can handle that about me very well
which is fine, because I guess that means these friends I have are here to stay
at least for a little while

I like that aspect of my life
having so few friends with so much heart

I wonder where the world goes

when I lie in bed, my knees tucked around my arms, my eyes closed and my mind dead. When I dislike the world because it leaves me so alone. There's nothing anyone can do or say because where I am is at a point far past returning from. There's nothing anyone can understand because my words are representatives of this blurry image. An image without reference point that leads to the nothingness that are my thoughts. I am no one to everyone and this isn't what bothers me. It's the loneliness. The large gaping loneliness. I don't know if you've ever comprehended it. To say that I wish you had in order to be me for several seconds would be tragic because it's so terrible. But to have never felt such emptiness as lucky as you may be, you won't be able to refer back to it when reading this. To assimilate that my room extends past all these feelings and continues outwards from all directions, becoming meadows and meadows of white and blank. I hate it so much, this inescapable thing. I hate it and you don't help me. None of you.

it's fantasticly fantastic

to sleep and wake like nothing ever happened in between is just amazing to me. What happened in between is self-deception, all those dreams of pure annoyance just to me. I guess I have nothing to be, nothing to prove or anything of any relevance to beings. I lay in bed and stare at that flashbulb until my vision blurs and everything goes dark again. There you go, dear, there you go.

If you stare at the light for too long it goes dark again.

Ridiculous

bwuaha-HA.
I'm on the brink of being absolutely crazy, unidentifiable.
Lastly, no one reads this.
Furthermore, I don't make decisions.
Ultra-furthermore, the both of you make me wonder.
Ultra-ultra furthermore, this tiny speck of a world leaves everyone with no room to talk.
We're all muffled here.

If

you know the answer to this burdening question, why do you ask? If you know the frightening secrets I hold dearly, why do you seek them? If you know who I am truly, why do you expect more from me?

but who knows

what goes on in that head of hers

who knows?