Thursday, January 21, 2010
If there's ever a time i'm upset, it's today.
Why can't some people just shut up and start listening? Or why can't people ask questions that don't paint me into a dark corner with a bright red "X" on the floor? The sandbag's ready to fall on-- wait. There it is. It's already been cut. I'm squashed. The sandbag says "YOU DON'T MATTER, AND NEVER WILL". Is it true? Probably not. But since I can't say much from under this gargantuan burlap sack, nobody'll know.
Well cut me up and salt me down.
I don't think I'll stay around.
I'll bleed on your fresh sweet face
Nail your feet right into place
Keep it up I'll beat you down
Convince me to cut around
The veins that pump the venom blood
It's sickening how quickly the negativity can spread. One thing falls, and before you know it you're thinking about things that don't make sense. Everything kinda tumbles out onto the floor...the dirty laundry, the old papers, the dirty plates, they're all in a steaming heap and you no longer know what's what, who's who, and why there are chicken bones on your favourite sweater.
Then it starts stewing. You're making Sweet 'n' Sour Old Chicken Sweater-and-Jean Soup with missing english journal entries for garnishing. I'm going to try my best not to let my room get messy tonight.
On another note, the day at least started off well. Much like the past three to four days have. I get on the bus, and like a shining beacon of light, Rob's there up in the back as usual. It takes Try #2 to get eye contact to be made, but at least I didn't have to stray past a Third and call over to him.
I sat beside him. Thank whatever higher entities exist that it wasn't overly awkward. But that's thanks to the fact that we still had a quasi-continuing conversation going on at the time.* We converse a bit, then I take out the band log.* I, yet again, get positive feedback. There's a bit of a lull in the conversation a few more times, but he breaks the tension by playing something from Cannibal Corpse out loud and slowly moving it closer to the ear of the person sitting directly in front of me. Then he goes "I don't do stupid shit when I'm by myself, just so you know."
You see? The day wasn't that bad. I had pizza for lunch.
I kinda/sorta/almost fell asleep in French.
Mediocre day I guess.
Then, as I paced up and down a small stretch of Kipling between my school and the other one, I saw him and her, and I kept repeating to myself "Everything happens for a reason," in my head. Which is true. Everything does happen for a reason. I was pondering for a short time, and I felt a dead part of me wanting to cry...but I didn't. I was happy for them. I have to change my behaviour in order to feel better. And I'll do just that. I'll keep myself distracted.
Pretty boy
Nice hair
Go away
Leave me
Maybe we'll
Talk again
'Nother day
Find a way to keep it to myself
I want some help.
He makes me happy. And like that show said, we have history. But we were just meant to be together in a different way. Which is why I should be happy for my friend.
Why can't some people just shut up and start listening? Or why can't people ask questions that don't paint me into a dark corner with a bright red "X" on the floor? The sandbag's ready to fall on-- wait. There it is. It's already been cut. I'm squashed. The sandbag says "YOU DON'T MATTER, AND NEVER WILL". Is it true? Probably not. But since I can't say much from under this gargantuan burlap sack, nobody'll know.
Well cut me up and salt me down.
I don't think I'll stay around.
I'll bleed on your fresh sweet face
Nail your feet right into place
Keep it up I'll beat you down
Convince me to cut around
The veins that pump the venom blood
It's sickening how quickly the negativity can spread. One thing falls, and before you know it you're thinking about things that don't make sense. Everything kinda tumbles out onto the floor...the dirty laundry, the old papers, the dirty plates, they're all in a steaming heap and you no longer know what's what, who's who, and why there are chicken bones on your favourite sweater.
Then it starts stewing. You're making Sweet 'n' Sour Old Chicken Sweater-and-Jean Soup with missing english journal entries for garnishing. I'm going to try my best not to let my room get messy tonight.
On another note, the day at least started off well. Much like the past three to four days have. I get on the bus, and like a shining beacon of light, Rob's there up in the back as usual. It takes Try #2 to get eye contact to be made, but at least I didn't have to stray past a Third and call over to him.
I sat beside him. Thank whatever higher entities exist that it wasn't overly awkward. But that's thanks to the fact that we still had a quasi-continuing conversation going on at the time.* We converse a bit, then I take out the band log.* I, yet again, get positive feedback. There's a bit of a lull in the conversation a few more times, but he breaks the tension by playing something from Cannibal Corpse out loud and slowly moving it closer to the ear of the person sitting directly in front of me. Then he goes "I don't do stupid shit when I'm by myself, just so you know."
You see? The day wasn't that bad. I had pizza for lunch.
I kinda/sorta/almost fell asleep in French.
Mediocre day I guess.
Then, as I paced up and down a small stretch of Kipling between my school and the other one, I saw him and her, and I kept repeating to myself "Everything happens for a reason," in my head. Which is true. Everything does happen for a reason. I was pondering for a short time, and I felt a dead part of me wanting to cry...but I didn't. I was happy for them. I have to change my behaviour in order to feel better. And I'll do just that. I'll keep myself distracted.
Pretty boy
Nice hair
Go away
Leave me
Maybe we'll
Talk again
'Nother day
Find a way to keep it to myself
I want some help.
He makes me happy. And like that show said, we have history. But we were just meant to be together in a different way. Which is why I should be happy for my friend.
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