Boredom Kills Brain Cells, Just Like Love

I was bored… so don’t think I’ve officially gone insane. And yes, I did it. I actually took a “You’re Perfect Guy” survey. That’s right, glare at me and give me sympathetic sighs.

Begin with the pathetic excuses:

~*The Perfect Guy*~

-hair color: black [dark brown might work too, i guess], because it annoys me when the boys has lighter colored hair then the girl. so, yeah…

-eye color: um… i don’t care, i guess. but they have to be shiny ^-^


-height: I don’t know… taller than me buy like… a few inches, so if i wear heels or just high shoes, he’s still taller than me. [just as a sidenote, i have no clue how tall i am.]

-weight: fuck, i don’t really give a shit.

-6 pack?: um… that depends, does it comes along with a bitchy attitude?

-funny or serious: both, to suit my many moods of course. because if he was too funny all the time, that would annoy me so badly.

-age: um… my age i guess? or a bit older’s okay i guess. only by a few years though.

long or short hair: um, i don’t care. not super long hair though. shoulder-length is the max that i could take. if it’s shorter or longer, who cares? as long as he can pull it off.


-muscular or scrawny: i don’t know. medium? that’s my answer for when i really don’t care between the two.

-big or little butt: medium? [but to the littler side >.< a huge one would be really scary!]

-should he be a pimp: not if he doesn’t want me to end up shooting him.

would he cook for you: well, if he doesn’t cook at all… he’s going to starve. so, yeah.


-loud or quiet: again, both. if he’s too quiet, it will be quite an awkward relationship. and if he’s too loud, i’ll end up shooting him.


-would he smoke: he better not. or else he’ll end up giving me a fucking asthma attack and i’ll be forced to shoot him.


-would he drink: no, because guys who always end up drunk off their ass before the end of the night… are not attractive. and besides, don’t you watch chick flicks? the drunk guys are always the ones who cheat!


-clingy?: clingy just enough that i don’t feel like a grain of sand in the hourglass of his mind. but ot so much that i have to change my phone number so hell stop calling me.

-would he swear: yeah, or at least be comfortable with me swearing. because as you can see, i’ve already cussed more than a few times in this survey thing.

-would he buy you something for your birthday: he better, i mean… i need something to gently ease me away from the horrid thought of growng up! but actually, i’d prefer it if he just made me something special. Something corny, like a photoalbum of us or some other romantic shit.


-would he have a lot of girl friends: as in mistresses? he better not, or he’ll be shot. actually i’d just dump his pimp ass. as in just girl friends? depends if i can get along with them.

-would he have a best friend: yeah, that’d be nice. ^-^ but if his best friend hates me, yeah… that’d be a no.

-would he call you a lot: yeah, but again… not SO much. just enough to make me feel like he actually thinks of me during the day.
-would he call you hun, sweetie, baby, sugar or any other pet name: he would call me them just to tease me because he knows i would get mad.

-would he tell you he loved you: if he means it.

-does he love his mom: well, i lurf mine. so he’d better love her!


-would he hang out with you and your friends: yeah >.< if he couldn’t stand my friend, i’m sorry… but he wouldn’t be te perfect guy then.

-would you hang out with him and his friends: sometimes, i guess. if they’re nice then, sure.

-should he sing to you: yes! even if he sounds horrible, then we could laugh about it later.


-would he meet your parents: yeah. i think that if he didn’t meet my mom, she would end up shooting him for me.

-would he lay under the stars with you: <romantic sigh> of course. i mean, that’s the cliche hopeless romantic’s dream, isn’t it?

-would he call just to say hi: always. even when we just saw eachother five minutes ago.

Cue the lights and set the stage. There’s a heartbreak for every night.

“A thousand miles seems pretty far
But they’ve got planes and trains and cars
I’d walk to you if I had no other way
Our friends would all make fun of us
And we’ll just laugh along because we know
That none of them have felt this way
Delilah, I can promise you
That by the time we get through
The world will never ever be the same
And you’re to blame.”

Boredom Kills Brain Cells, Just Like Love

It’s What You Don’t Tell That Just Might Save You

Have you ever fet between friends? You know, the place where you’re not sure who you want to win or lose. And the worst part, they’ll forever be in war. Both have their pros and cons, and I just don’t know who has more pros. First I feel completely sickened by one of them, then suddenly the table turns and I can’t even think of the other.

The truth: I don’t think I can’t stand either of them.

I know, I know… why am I friends with people that I really don’t want to ever speak to again? Truthfully, it’s because I don’t want to be alone. That’s the core of all my fears. Sure, I’m terrified of spiders. But what’s the worst they could do? Bite you, infect you with their poison that results in your death in the end. Yeah? But if you die with people who truly love you, what’s so bad about it?

It’s better to be loved at one time then never being loved at all.

Exactly my point. These times make me think, who do I really have? Is there really anyone that I would truthfully reveal my every secret to without even one miniscule doubt in my mind afterwards? At this moment, it feels like my mind’s screaming back, “no!”

And sometimes it hurts, because I have all these people that trust me to keep their secrets and I just feel like I’m about to explode. There’s only so many secrets you can bottle up befre everything just comes falling down to crush you six feet under.

It’s like everyone said, “Secrets don’t make friends.” But actually, it’s the badly kept secrets that make enemies.

“Fix me to a chain around your neck,
Wear me like a nickel
Even new wine served in old skins cheapens the taste,
I shot the pilot,
I’m begging you to fly this for me,
I’m here for you to use, broken and bruised,
Do you understand?”

It’s What You Don’t Tell That Just Might Save You

Apparently, Envy Paints You Green, But What Color Is A Confused Blur Of Everything?

Greetings, to whatever reader/s I may have accumulated somewhere between my pathetic calls of S.O.S.! How has your day been? Oh, me? I actually got my haircut yesterday. Yeah, I was planning on getting it cut soon. It was getting to be below my waist-line. So, I cut it and donated 10 in. to Locks Of Love. Now it’s just below my shoulders! But as far as my day goes… well, mine’s been so… completely fucked up. Yeah, here goes the rant of the day.

Truthfully, I have no clue how I’m feeling at the moment. It’s like I’m standing on the very point between every emotion you can have. And it’s just confusing me to the point where I just need to crawl out of my head and watch as the world fades away. It’s just one of those days where I just want the world to disappear.

You don’t want to be me; take my word for it. Is it bad to be so completely jealous of your friends family and everyone around you? I mean, I know envy is one of the 7 deadly sins. Which is the very reason why I feel so horrible for having this crappy attitude with them. But it hurts that they’re lives are just so incredibly perfect. Yeah, a good friend would go, “Oh that’s so nice! I’m happy for you!” And that exactly what I’m trying to be, a good friend. So that’s what I say. But you know what? A true friend would have actually meant it.

Every day for me is a fucking war; but I don’t know who I should be fighting. It’s like everything is going so perfectly for them. My main prey of today’s rant will remain anonymous, so I can have some sense of freedom with the cruelty of my words. Maybe this is just karma’s way of telling me to just finally roll over and let her stab away at my heart. Because every single one of my friends is in complete heaven. My prey of today? She just found out that she can basically date her boyfriend and his friend that lives far away at he same time. See? She pretty much has two boyfriends and me? I’m sitting on my computer at 1:06 AM typing up a “fuck you” blog entry on Xanga. Yeah, that says it all. I mean is this supposed to be the turning point of the corny date movie drama of my life? Or is it just the end coming of a horror/suicide film? Because I feel like it’s going to go the the latter. Maybe karma’s just mad that I never sent those many chain letters.

They said, “say something nice or don’t say anything at all.” Well, that’s created a whole new face of me; did I take it too far? I always try my best to just force my cheeks into a smile and grin like I took one too many uppers to cure the moody-ness. [I’m not actually on any pills… maybe I should be? But they’re so expensive, I just smile and lie about “nothing wrong”.] Now it’s like I can’t even be real with my “best friends”. The people that were supposed to stick with me through thick and thin? Well, now it’s more like they expect me to stick with them through thick and thin. The “friends” that everyone says you should be able to confess every secret to? Well, you don’t feel very welcome to sharing anything when once you gather the courage you see:
SomeRandomPerson: hey can we get back to talking about me?
How can you tell them how you actually are feeling when they say that? And the worst part of this all is that we’re all trying so hard to sound like a good friend that we aren’t. When I’m feeling crappy and they’re feeling super happy, of course they ask, “are you ok?” But there’s no way I can just rain down on their parade with the truth like, “No, I’m not okay. I feel like diving off a cliff or sitting in the middle of a street. I feel like screaming that I hate you and I’m a horrible person. I feel like screaming that I need someone to actually care. I feel like telling someone what I really think about them, not this fluffed up shit I make up. I feel like throwing something and shouting till my lungs feel like they’ll burst. I feel like crying till my eyes go numb. I feel numb and pain at the same time. I feel confused and used and like writing. I feel lazy and tired. I feel jealous and just about any of the 7 deadly sins you can think of. Out of anything I feel, the least I feel is ‘ok’.” But oh of course, all I reply with is a, “yeah, I’m fine ^-^”. And this is why I write. Because as cliche and stupid as it sounds, writing is my life. Writing is every breath of fresh air that lets me know I’m still alive. Writing is the best friend that will hear me bitch and moan about my over-dramatic problems. It’s everything. I can tell people it’s not, just to make myself sound as normal as I like to pretend I am. But that’s a complete lie.

I’m so ready to just collapse. And I’m praying the world will just for once listen to my begging and just actually disappear. Because I’m not ready to talk to her and the little IM tab keeps flashing neon orange. I can’t face her and her writings of how happy and in love she is. This is what I write about and fantasize about how wonderful it is. Teenage love. But at the same time, it’s the very most vile thing to me. It completely disgusts me. What do you want me to say? There’s nothing as horrible as just comparing something to myself. So believe me, nothing, no bad names, swear words, expertly placed words, etc. could ever shock me. I know more than anyone on this Earth how vile I am.

The Revenge of the Damned, it’s simply the title to my biography.

“I always said that I would make mistakes
I’m only human and that’s my saving grace
I’ll fall as hard as I try
So don’t be blinded
See me as I really am
I have flaws and sometimes I even sin
So pull me from that pedestal
I don’t belong there.”

Apparently, Envy Paints You Green, But What Color Is A Confused Blur Of Everything?

Living In Mirrors Of Dreams

From when the first little girl fell asleep to bedtime stories, there has been the ideal fairytale of the perfect house with the white picket fence, pool, maybe even overlooking a beach or ocean, children playing in the front or backyard, and of course… Prince Charming. The perfect man, he: stands up for you; tosses the footballs to your son [or daughter]; brings you flowers when he comes home from work; has a steady job; doesn’t drink, smoke, or do drugs; plans romantic evenings even after you have children; kills the bugs and opens jars; is incredibly attractive personality wise and physically; and of course, loves you more than anything in existence. The flaws to those stories? There is of course no perfect Prince Charming. These once quaint, little fairytales soon become something most girls come to expect in their boyfriends as teenagers. And slowly turn to nightmareish cliffs for their high hopes to take a suicidal dive off of.

Okay, maybe I’m being a bit over dramatic. But that was is me. The little hopeless romantic that just wants everything to end with a black slide reading in beautiful calligraphy, “Happily Ever After- The End”. I want everyone to be happy. Maybe that’s a flaw of mine. I’m always fussing over my friend’s relationship with so-and-so that later I find myself alone in my room at 2 in the morning wondering, “Where’s my boy to stay up with me until the early hours of the morning just talking on the phone?” Did he just walk past me on the street while I was to busy trying to help Sally Who-Ha with her boyfriend that supposedly cheated on her? I know, “You’re still young! You’ve got time to find that Prince when you’re older!” But if this continues? Where do I end up? Alone in a house with no one to laugh with me as we stroll though the park.

No one.

The blunt truth. Maybe I’m afraid of love. I mean, all I hear about is boyfriends and all their conniving ways, how they complicated a once brilliant friendship. How can you continuously hear this beating on boyfriends and not be intimidated the least bit or at least a bit detracted?

But if I continue to simply ignore the nonexistant romance in my life, what happens to the Prince Charming? Does he find his Damsel In Distress in the next town over and leave me hanging in the dust?

It just worries me that I might never find that someone. The one that makes my knees shake when I see him; that makes my stomache ache with bats flying around when he notices me in the least bit; that keeps me swooning and returns the favor. It’s like a bad episode of Sex And The City. But Carrie will most likely finally find someone in the end and get that closing slide. Me? We might just have to wait and see.

I didn’t mean it when I said I didn’t want your sympathy.

“One of us never did it but we’re taking it all.
And tell me why you never promised that you wanted it all.
And her eyes never batted when she said it
It’s a long night, hoping knowing…”

Living In Mirrors Of Dreams