November 2010
6 posts
I believe
that if you lathered a bug in Pillbury Classic Vanilla frosting
I would eat it…
I curled my chubby arms around you.
It was late. It always seemed late. We were both so tired, I remember, probably from a night of making love. I was not feeling well. At all.
There had been a chill about me since dinner. I cringed with every bite. Something was wrong. I could smell him in the air. I could feel his hate pushed against my chest like how you found yourself that night. I knew. I was not feeling well. At all.
When we...
8 minutes...
Until I can eat. Fake chicken nuggets. My favorite. Not really, but close.
I really must start on my 10 page English paper. Why must I waste all of my talent on overrated blogging and those who do not yet appreciate it? Why must I be so incredibly lazy in the last two weeks of the semester? Thank God it is the last two weeks of the semester. I think perhaps I will make straight As. I think...
A split second.
I didn’t even feel the pain until after it happened. Pain pierced the flesh, bone, shot up my arm. Electricity raced down my spine, captured my hand back before anymore damage could be done. Skin began peeling back immediately. Pain. Burning. But more pain. My brain drowned in thoughts of ice. I need ice. Ice. I’m burning.
I
don’t really want to do this anymore.
Sorry?
If I could open my arms...
Perhaps you can guess that I am not happy at all. Perhaps there is something impossibly wrong with me. Perhaps you are too perfect for me. Perhaps not perfect enough.
Nostalia is pinching at me again and I foresee that it will be at your expense.
I feel alone when I am with you.
