It turns out...

I do not just need a new life, I also need new friends.  And a new body.  And a new face.  And preferably, a new living situation.

kthxbye

Maybe that's how's how books get written...

Duey Cocks
Pronounced Doo-ee Cawx
Definition: a name

Due
Pronounced Doo-ay
Often mispronounced Doo-ee
Definition: Italian for 2

Ho comminciato ridere e non ho fermato per un lungo tempo perche' la situazione era buffa e anche la mia professoressa ha ridi.  Sono molto molto immatura...

Ah, e adesso, Peacock viene al mio itunes. LOL

Fuck you, world

I'm angry. I'm angry because I want someone else to be fulfilled and normal. I'm angry that everything is 100 times harder for me. I'm angry that it can come easier to others and they laugh and toy with it simply because they can. I don't even get one chance. everyone has a learning curve, but mine will come late if at all. I want my mother to get rid of that old dollhouse because it mocks me; honestly, the likelihood of me ever having children is slim to none without a penis. I am sad to give up dreams of relationships and love, but there is nothing I can do when nobody wants me.

One thing of which I am resolute:
to this lifestyle, I can commit no more of my energy.

Wanderlust should be acknowledged,
Hope should not be squandered,
Love should be revisited, required even.

To become a shell of a person is not a foreign experience;
there is nothing else to lose and only that which I gain.

Broken chairs, feeling sorry, ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!
Wait for the girl of the hour, she's on her way just now.

Looking at old playlists is similar to looking at old photographs of yourself.
I manage to capture who I was and what I was feeling with every mess of songs:
In love, hopeful, miserable, imprisoned; they're all there.

And now I am at the edge of a precipice yet again, staring into the wild unknown and wondering how I did come to find myself here.
It is not as if cannot remember what has happened--that history is stored deep in my internal hard drive just as surely as my last playlist.
But unlike all of my musical madness, my life doesn't have a designated theme, a predictable order, or, God forbid, the foresight of what is coming next.


I just don't know how this is going to turn out.
I keep forgetting that I'm in charge, that it's up to me.

Nothing makes me happier than a clean bed,
with clean sheets like an Egyptian cotton hug, always available.
I don't have to press or wait for my cotton hug.

What happens when your life becomes a bed frame leaning on the wall?
When it is live Green Day on repeat?
(play that Brain song again, Billie Joe)
It takes on the sterility of a 70% ethanol-caricature of a past dream.

The keg needs picking up; I suppose I'll go attend to that.

And not for the first time, she wondered who the narrator was.