oh, for the love of pete...
Never ever let me stay up this late again. It's quarter to seven people. And I know I'm gonna regret posting this when I'm actually sane again. But my mind is playing tricks on me. *looks out the window* shouldn't it at least be grey outside by now? I mean it's still pitch-dark out there. I wonder if the sun is ever going to rise again. Maybe it'll stay dark forever.
I've been listening to this same Tori Amos song for the past half-hour. She's singing just for me. Will I ever sleep again? Probably. But not for long enough. A brief moment of lucidity: I love kingdom hearts. Descending back into madness....
I'm going to go into my bed and lay awake in my semi-sane state and wish for someone to be laying next to me, because at this moment all I want is a hug. I'm not particularly lonely. I just want someone to show me that there are other people alive. Touch me, please... I need to be touched...just to prove that other people than me exist. I actually like being single. Then I don't have to deal with messed-up break-ups that make people who are supposed to be happy into depressed, bummed-out shadows of their former selves.
When I go to London I'm going to buy a pair of Doc Martens. And scarves. Lots of scarves. I'm going to come home and you won't be able to tell it's me, because I'll have so many damn scarves wrapped around my head and neck. It'll be great. And I'll get you all.... something.
This army of me is going to bed before my computer starts talking to me.
Oh, and here:
Apparently I'm the King of the World. Hand me my crown, slave!
I've been listening to this same Tori Amos song for the past half-hour. She's singing just for me. Will I ever sleep again? Probably. But not for long enough. A brief moment of lucidity: I love kingdom hearts. Descending back into madness....
I'm going to go into my bed and lay awake in my semi-sane state and wish for someone to be laying next to me, because at this moment all I want is a hug. I'm not particularly lonely. I just want someone to show me that there are other people alive. Touch me, please... I need to be touched...just to prove that other people than me exist. I actually like being single. Then I don't have to deal with messed-up break-ups that make people who are supposed to be happy into depressed, bummed-out shadows of their former selves.
When I go to London I'm going to buy a pair of Doc Martens. And scarves. Lots of scarves. I'm going to come home and you won't be able to tell it's me, because I'll have so many damn scarves wrapped around my head and neck. It'll be great. And I'll get you all.... something.
This army of me is going to bed before my computer starts talking to me.
Oh, and here:
according to the "how high is your self esteem?" test, i have...
VERY HIGH self-esteem.
Apparently I'm the King of the World. Hand me my crown, slave!