Oh destiny, have you forsaken me?
Shadows of darkness destroying my sanity
Liar can’t make the sun shine brighter
Liar can’t make you believe in smiles
Don’t blame princess for being naive
And don’t blame me for hating this
Spinning webs from pure satire
Make me lie, brand me sin
Avarice is my sister
Oh, envy me!
For I am Envy, herself.
So much studying to do, but don’t depend on my. I went flying last night, through every old and fetid word left in my computer. Wondering, remembering back to when I believed in you. In all of you. When I was Naive and the World was just a nickname for Earth. I hate growing up. It feels as if I’m clearing out my house in Neverland and moving into Reality, next door. Why do I have to know what I want to do when I’m grown? Why must I pretend I give a shit? Why do I have to stop using “vulgar language”? Why do I have to pretend that your screenname isn’t the first thing I look for when I sign on?
Stress has been like the ton of rocks pressing my chest closer to my spine. Don’t give up! You’ll do fine! Oh those liars, don’t give me false hope. I know my place now, nowhere. So don’t lecture me as if you’ll ever know me inside and out, because I’m afraid I might be that predictable.
I think my family’s gotten a bit hesitant when I use the expression, “I’d rather kill myself.” I mean, do you really think I’d kill myself? …Okay, I mean, I haven’t been clinically branded depressed or anything. It’s not like I slit my wrists or anything! I’m just melodramatic… to maybe a bit farther of an extent. But truthfully, I’m not slitting my wrists anytimes soon. I mean, if I casually get hit by a car and just maybe, die in the ER… that’s the car’s fault, right? Don’t worry, I won’t do that… although, you probably weren’t worrying.
You know, I don’t think anyone actually reads my blogs. And I’m not sure if that’s good. Is it good to be lost in the tangle of the interweb?
Anyway, my day was pretty okay today. Although, I’m absolutely sure I completely failed my Arabic exam… and my History exam. But screw learning! I just can’t do it! I forfeit! You all win.
The Snowball is in a little over a week. Should I care that I’m going, technically, solo? Nope, because I’m hideous and boys have cooties. So, love can just go find lust and get groovy. Yes, get groovy.
I feel like singing until my voice quivers. I feel like shouting, “I love you!” outside your window. I feel like looking out my window to find a boy holding a boombox over his head for me. I feel like finding a mixtape addressed to me on my doorstep. I feel like crying until I’ve shriveled up into dust. I feel like becoming invisible to find if anyone notices my disappearance. I feel like collapsing under the pressure. I feel like I wish I was you.
Less Than Three;Rikki [on the horizon]