Sunday, July 26, 2009

The problem with dressing yourself up.

I would hem all of my garments randomly with purpose. I would lock all of the fasteners down. I would drink up the style that suited me. I would sleep in those clothes until I woke up ready to use them. I would never need to wake up. It would be the perfect ending, to a day, full of hidden meaning and apparent disappointment.



just had the perfect end to an amazing day with an amazing boyfriend and all my best friends. There's a reason i love life. :]

You really have to stop it with this super happy shit.

why's that? i'm actually rather enjoying it.

I'll have to hide you, it makes me ill.

why? cause you can't ever experience joy?


Your happiness depresses me. I hear nothing but fingernails on the chalkboard, an incessant, never-ending saccharine to which my body responds purely in bile. I would turn my head and cough, if my neck had the range of motion or void of pain, and if and only if someone is cupping my balls and commanding it of me in while-labbed coat. This is not the case and therefore the acid just eats away at my esophagus and soul. I do not mean to rain on any parade, or parade like function, I just think 365 days worth of I love my life had a great day updates are tant amount to 365 days of me updating my status with I hate my life updates.

Which I do so all of this is moot. Perhaps we should both limit it to 150 days of I love/hate life status updates.

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