Why do you of all people make me smile? I’ve been angry lately. Mad at my dad, my mom, myself, my friend, my truck tire, my stomach, the puddles, the radio, milk jugs, and my clothes. I’m distracted, so completely and utterly distracted. You know you’re distracted when you have to do everything, but aren’t doing anything, but still have everything in the back of your head. Being reminded constantly about things sucks. Loads.
Today my friends told me to just not do something because it was ‘lame’, so I go and do it, and I felt a lot better after wards. Maybe not because it cleared things up so much as it made me feel good to do something different then what I normally would do. I wonder how creepy you think I am, like really. Does always being around with nothing to do creep you out? Does not having any other people around me creep you out? Does wanting to go into graveyards at night creep you out? Does updating my twitter often creep you out? Does being active creep you out? Does being comfortable with eff shit all make me creepy? Yeah maybe it does, but you could at least tell me that I’m creepy, because then I know that you know for sure and we can know everything about each other.
I replied for once, because you make me smile, more like grin vastly. When you make me grin it’s all vastness. I’m not going to say I love you because I’m not feeling cliche today, and who’s to say that I of all people know what love means. Because I totally have no clue what that entails because nobody is in love around me (at least I don’t think so). These times remind me of when I was a kid. And watching Shrek reminds me of all things that I was oblivious too. It feels good to know I’ve come a lot farther than where I used to be.
The band room was filled with teenagers. As far as the eye could see in this small space. The chairs were bright yellow and we were late. There were only 2 seats available and they were right beside the girl I used to know. I’d forced her not to kill herself, to stay alive. She should be thanking me for still being alive. She should be telling me how much she appreciates what I tried to hard to do. She should have breathed warm air on my neck to show me how much she was alive. How she was still able to breathe. But I didn’t look at her, she moved her legs to the side to let me get by, and I sat down angling myself towards the speaker who smiled at me because she remembered me or something. The talker talked for 30 minutes and it didn’t seem that long because I forgot about who was sitting beside me on purpose. She didn’t exist to me. She’s dead for all I’m concerned. Another ghost in this spirited world. Just the wind (it can be scientificly proven not like all that gaudy god bullshit). There is no warm breath on my neck tonight, but maybe in a few days, if I don’t ask for it.
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