He must know what he's doing. He must know that this is not enjoyable. I do not relish in any of my pain. I don't not sit here, counting the pieces of my broken heart. I am not painting pictures, hanging them above my bed, then ripping them to shreds and burning them. I am not "staring endlessly into eyes that are not mine". I do not sit in nothing other than silence and sad songs. I am not writing about him. I am not thinking about him. I am not not wanting him. I definitely don't want his arms around me right now nor do I care for kisses. I am not crying. I am not devastated. I am not sulking in the remains of myself. Can you tell when I'm lying? I can tell you I have not lied entirely here. I am most definitely not crying though! ^_^ Most things spoken are derived from truth or some form of it. There are secrets I would rather keep to myself. Some things can only be appreciated if kept unseen and unheard. Unfulfilled. What I am doing, that which I can assure you with much certainty, is listening to French rap which has to be the best music I have ever heard in my whole entire life. You can't understand what he's saying, and that's what I'm saying. Some things are so much better, mean so much more, when you don't completely understand them. If I knew at this moment (which I do because I just read a quick translation or "traduction") he was rapping about living in Miami Beach and being rich, I wouldn't really care for it as much as I do. Don't get me wrong, and if you know me at all, then you at least know this, I love ALL music. Especially awesome rap. And you wouldn't ever know it by just looking at me. I have that "scene" look. I find that I often confuse people with how I am. My psychiatrist commented once on how "mind boggling" I was because here I was such a shy girl, one with no self esteem but I had a pierced nose and a huge tattoo on her arm; these things only attracted people to me when all I really wanted was to remain unseen and unknown. Anyway back to the amazing French rap (I'm listening to Booba by the way). Dan (I'm going to try to remain rational here... no Fucking Asshole label necessary... I suppose... this is hard... oh man...) was supposed to burn me a CD of all of this but he never did. And I want to ask him, as a consolation prize or as compensation for him breaking my heart yet a second fucking time, will he please burn the fucking CD for me? Is it really that fucking hard? Do you expect me to believe that it takes up more than .0000000001% of your day? Are you fucking for real? After the bullshit that you pulled! Unbelievable. And this shit about you breaking up with me (yes through an email!) I almost don't believe it to be true, I almost believe that I ended it and for some reason I'm blocking it out and replacing it with one where I'm in love with you and not the exact opposite. Or perhaps I did end it, like I always seem to do, inadvertently, where my subconscious gets the best of me, and makes me do crazy things, behave in really odd ways and make really stupid choices and decisions to the point where it leaves one wondering, "What the fuck?', and not just my "victims" but myself as well are left to linger in this thought. So I think I'm left to conclude:
"Sometimes these things just don't work out."
And take I will solace in the fact that with each day that God gives me, Daniel will fade just like all of the rest of them. Nothing special. Nothing meaningful. Just another notch in my bedpost and one of those faces that's hard to recall.
<3
