Thursday, October 16, 2008
♥ Tear You Apart
I've done it. I've successfully injured another person.
Thank God it wasn't as bad as what I envisioned. I imagined myself quite metaphorically taking the knife that was hurting me and throwing it back into him.
If there was a knife, it would have been a small needle now stuck in his skin. He tells me that I haven't hurt him as bad as others out there.
But I still feel guilty.
I'm thinking I need to lie low for a while as far as relationships.
I still wonder how people can actually grow to love, what they see in me. I wouldn't love me. I wouldn't ask me on a second date if I was paired with me on a blind date. Nope.
So, what do you guys see in me? What the hell is it that attracts you to me?
And of course.. OF COURSE.. the one guy I very much want, I can't have.
Fucking rules. Fucking miles. Fucking distance and fucking relationship he already has.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking, fuck fuck!
FUCK!
Ah.. much better... MUCH better.
Fuck..
Okay, okay.. I'm done now.
He tells me he'll still give me blood when I need it.
Well, God damn, I'm hooked now. Of course, I'll still want it. We'll see how long I can last without a nice, medium rare, bloody steak or the gushing blood fountain over my lips. Last time, it was a month. Can I go longer?
I need a fucking steak, people. A prime rib.
Now, I'm starving..
Anyway, last night was so full of drama that I got little sleep, little work done, and now I'm stressed out like a thirteen-year-old girl that just found out she's fucking pregnant, and she doesn't know what to tell her parents.
What would you say to something like that? Sheesh..
That's what condoms are for, Jesus..
Okay, last night.
I went to the ER. Yes, the Emergency Room. For what, you ask?
I was shitting blood. Quite literally. I freaked. My blood pressure when I went in was about 140/80... and my pulse was soaring at about 100. Yeah, freaked.
But I may have been a bit hasty with the decision to go in. Oh, well. I suppose insurance is so wonderful like that. But anyway, I'm sitting here in the Student Health Building, waiting to talk to my doc about what to do about the Zoloft. It was quite obviously the meds.
Just my luck, right? I'm feeling mentally better, but physical shitty. In more than one sense.
We'll see what he says. My parents were scared shitless, my friends were, my donor was.. I'm not sure if Ron was. I'm betting he was from his email. My empathy doesn't work over emails, people, so I can't exactly tell.
Hell, the guy has had a rough few weeks himself. Up all night, sleepy during the day, occassional marriage issues..
I feel terrible. 'Cause I'm betting I'm the source of most of those problems.
If it weren't for that FUCKING distance.. I'd have someone to run to.
God dammit, Wyoming! God dammit, Nebraska! Can you move so our states can be right next to each other? You bitch..
Thank God it wasn't as bad as what I envisioned. I imagined myself quite metaphorically taking the knife that was hurting me and throwing it back into him.
If there was a knife, it would have been a small needle now stuck in his skin. He tells me that I haven't hurt him as bad as others out there.
But I still feel guilty.
I'm thinking I need to lie low for a while as far as relationships.
I still wonder how people can actually grow to love, what they see in me. I wouldn't love me. I wouldn't ask me on a second date if I was paired with me on a blind date. Nope.
So, what do you guys see in me? What the hell is it that attracts you to me?
And of course.. OF COURSE.. the one guy I very much want, I can't have.
Fucking rules. Fucking miles. Fucking distance and fucking relationship he already has.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking, fuck fuck!
FUCK!
Ah.. much better... MUCH better.
Fuck..
Okay, okay.. I'm done now.
He tells me he'll still give me blood when I need it.
Well, God damn, I'm hooked now. Of course, I'll still want it. We'll see how long I can last without a nice, medium rare, bloody steak or the gushing blood fountain over my lips. Last time, it was a month. Can I go longer?
I need a fucking steak, people. A prime rib.
Now, I'm starving..
Anyway, last night was so full of drama that I got little sleep, little work done, and now I'm stressed out like a thirteen-year-old girl that just found out she's fucking pregnant, and she doesn't know what to tell her parents.
What would you say to something like that? Sheesh..
That's what condoms are for, Jesus..
Okay, last night.
I went to the ER. Yes, the Emergency Room. For what, you ask?
I was shitting blood. Quite literally. I freaked. My blood pressure when I went in was about 140/80... and my pulse was soaring at about 100. Yeah, freaked.
But I may have been a bit hasty with the decision to go in. Oh, well. I suppose insurance is so wonderful like that. But anyway, I'm sitting here in the Student Health Building, waiting to talk to my doc about what to do about the Zoloft. It was quite obviously the meds.
Just my luck, right? I'm feeling mentally better, but physical shitty. In more than one sense.
We'll see what he says. My parents were scared shitless, my friends were, my donor was.. I'm not sure if Ron was. I'm betting he was from his email. My empathy doesn't work over emails, people, so I can't exactly tell.
Hell, the guy has had a rough few weeks himself. Up all night, sleepy during the day, occassional marriage issues..
I feel terrible. 'Cause I'm betting I'm the source of most of those problems.
If it weren't for that FUCKING distance.. I'd have someone to run to.
God dammit, Wyoming! God dammit, Nebraska! Can you move so our states can be right next to each other? You bitch..
♥ My
doll smiled.
1:20 PM
0 commented
1:20 PM
0 commented