| awww... xanga. you've become so complicated in attempts to become something other than what you were.
I miss your simplicity.
please come back to me.
I remember bolt. I remember what happened to it.
please don't go that way. I love you.
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| How sweet it is to have found you.
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| stop coming to my site. I see you in my "footprints"
it's annoying me. I haven't written anything you need to concern yourself with.
If you didn't hate me, it'd be different. But, seeing as you do, you don't need to know about my life.
For the rest of you who still read this silly thing, here is a list of recent activity:
I now work at a BP station. It pretty much sucks. I will hopefully be getting a second job at economy. At this establishment I will do laundry for 12 hours a day in 110 degree heat. But... that's mandatory overtime! Time and a half!
that's 12 dollars an hour!
I am currently working on a side project... writing...... pop punk music. It's some pretty silly stuff.
I haven't done much of anything for weeks, and it's starting to show in all of my incomplete life plans.
The newest life plan? CSCC for culinary. Then to New York for a BA in the same. On to Cap City Diner where I will work as a soux chef. Then finally, my own pub, which I will eventually franchise. This will make me a multimillionaire and I will never have to work again. I'll simply have other people to do it. I'll keep myself busy by learning all there is to know about the religions of India and painting pictures of people I see on the street.
This makes me feel warm on my insides.
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| memories. eh..
I remember... I wrote this about him...
but you are an atheist
a moralist
a liberal
with family values... lots of them
and you like so many things
but not nearly enough of them
you shouldn't be allowed to exist
you don't balance in my mind.
societally speaking, sir, you are paradox.
but other than all that, I say you are simple because everything you believe you tell me.
I don't have to search you for answers
that's why it's so hard for me
I know when you are happy
you say it
I know what you like
you tell me
I don't have to say much of anything or search, save for prompting
and when he wrote these words... I melted. I fucking melted.
"Now, I planned to write this before I read your journal, asking me to.
I
do love you. I do. I don't know how to say it; I never do, and I
probably never will. I'm not one with words, by any means. It all just
seems forced and expected when I do say things, and I don't like that.
I'd rather it be honest.
Anything I could say to you would be
the same thing I'd say to all of the other girls I've talked to. I
don't want it to be anymore. But I don't know what else to say...so, I
say nothing. Not that that's a good thing, by any means.
But I
do love you. I'm so happy with the things that you've said and the
things that you feel. I'm happy with you coming down here. I wouldn't
want to be with anybody else.
I miss you. Constantly. I want to
be with you all the time. I talk to you for hours every day. That says
a lot, I'd think. I love you...
I love you..."
and now he writes the same things to another girl. Because that's how love works. I want nothing more than for both of us to be happy. What's funny about this whole thing, is that I'm fairly certain she's convinced that he is entirely miserable when he is with me. Which is a lie. I don't think he's ever told her that. Hm. Maybe it's just a bad assumption.
Maybe she understands that while she makes him the happiest, she's not the only one who makes him happy. That he cares for us in equal amounts, but in entirely different ways. To say that a man would love his sister more than his lover is unacceptable. And vice-versa. He loves them both equally, just differently. He would not be whole missing either of them, and cannot chose between them.
But if she does make him chose, well, then she's a fucking douche-tard, idiot and doesn't deserve him anyway.
I never was very stoic.
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