whinnnneeee

It's about time i made this thing readable...if i wanted to string together my moments of nonsense as done, i could've just written one very long stacey ann chin-esque ani difranco stained poem. or i could just have a journal 'dear diary my life is such a mess'. if the whole point of a blog is to post my efforts in a public -if somewhat annoymous way- perhaps its about time it became a little less-here's where im temped to use 'centric' though i'm having a hard time thinking of any other prefix other than phallo, and im still struggling for the word i want-internalised. i guess in a way i'm too scared to show the full picture of things, i don't want things to seem unbalanced i don't want to depict anyone in the wrong light. so i hold back, even if it doesn't seem it. i over dramatise situations, or i under dramatise because im too scared to explain the truth of how i'm feeling or what's happening, because maybe i feel like it doesn't matter if i miss tim or i love mel, or i'm sad or delirious or happy or anything. in dot point form i just seem like another fucking whiny teenager wannabe bisexual party brat. so lets start again, think about something other than forced poetic descriptions of self, and try for once to be real. and now im using words that are too wanky and sentences too long, and im running together my thoughts-makes me sound crazy/beautiful...in a way...mel thinks i am immature. i over react. she thinks that because i have no answer to her 'im not meaning to lecture you' talks that i am just too young to think of a comment. that if she grabs the skin where im beginning to leave far too many scars (i feel like early last year and i've told her too many times how unhappy i was then) then i will stop-then i will be reminded how foolish that hurt is. i wince, because i want it to be me who causes that pain. i cum when she slaps me in bed. i cry when she refuses to hold me. i laugh when we're alone together and we remember all the silly things we've already done. i breathe when she kisses me. i die (in the absolutely ridiculous metephorical and sometimes not sense) when she threatens to leave. and when she tells me she'll always stay.

and here i am again. making a whole lot less sense then ever.