You'd giggle at the last thing I Google'd.

Peanuts

After 9 and a monster slips itself into my system. Fire water follows. Two hours later and the routine is repeated. A night of headbangs, too much sweat, barely any clothes, and trusty heels. Table dancing is for squares, s'all about the benches. 5cms away from the ceiling, 4inch heels are to thank. These crafty bitches reminded me of my BET days. Since Saturday, I haven't been able to contain myself whenever I hear a beat.

Apologies

I'm worried that my hearts not in the right place for anyone and everyone that I know at the moment. This is unfair and difficult to solve.

Every other sentence begins with "I love...this and that." Everything is wonderful, everything makes me happy. "I love bubbles, antique stores, sunglasses, candy apples, sparkles, spider web patterns, fresh paper, thick paper. Collecting rubber bands, toxic scents, sewing, watercolours, bells, the cheese section of the grocery store. Soft rock, visible bones, the sound of pages turning, people watching, bird calls, fountain displays, sweaty palms, teacups, talking to yourself, steamed carrots." But no, she doesn't say that common phrase. Like ever.

Monday and I can't believe it

I'm suffocating under my duvet with some brownies, Hellogoodbye, and a softened poncho. I remembered your name and cuddled by myself in a corner because I was shy and because I could be a kitten. A little plane drew "Wish You Were Here" in my air and it was sweet. It's not all in my head, it's in me too.

there

I hope You know you make me feel ashamed. I hope You know that I miss you to pieces and I'm actually broken and confused. I hope You know that I'm a stubborn mule. I hope You know that I'm over you. I hope You know that I'm actually ignoring you. I hope You know that I'm really trying to bring us back together. I hope You know that I hate admitting that I miss you even though I say it everyday. I hope You know that I go the extra mile for you for some reason. I hope You know that you make me feel cool. I hope You know that I'm sorry for the bails and lies even though you don't know when I'm lying. I hope You know that I haven't established a label for you yet and still.

I wish I could tell people how I feel about them. These thoughts are annoying and need to be out.

4pm

You know that feeling? When you’re just waiting. Waiting to get home, into your room, close the door, fall into bed, and just let everything out that you kept in all day. That feeling of both relief and desperation. Nothing is wrong. But nothing is right either. And you’re tired. Tired of everything, tired of nothing. And you just want someone to be there and tell you it’s okay. But no one’s going to be there. And you know you have to be strong for yourself, because no one can fix you. But you’re tired of waiting. Tired of having to be the one to fix yourself and everyone else. Tired of being strong. And for once, you just want it to be easy. To be simple. To be helped. To be saved. But you know you won’t be. But you’re still hoping. And you’re still wishing. And you’re still staying strong and fighting, with tears in your eyes. You’re fighting.

Occult

I used to think of it as a compliment from bewilderment. But now that I hear it so often it just sounds like everyone's staring at the bearded woman in the circus. I'd stay in a carnival cage too.