he skull-fucked me with his tongue.

ok. so this is my new thing. public honesty and shitty cry-baby writing that has nothing to do with skull fucking...

i have just decided that i am just going to write something sometimes; even if it doesn't make any sense or it's whiney or whatever...i am just going to practice telling the truth and not editing. stream of consciousness...and poor spelling and all that jazz for whomever cares to read it. comment at will, deride at will...i welcome your honesty in equal measure.

sometimes i look at the adds i get from yahoo personals...just for fun. sometimes i even am tempted to 'break the ice for free' and see what happens but i don't i never do. i am shy at first, or so says my profile, but warm up quickly...perhaps it's the sidekick in me or the fact that i am better one-on-one.

i was having trouble focussing earlier. perhaps it was the pain in my ear from the biopsy punch or perhaps it was the pain in my stomach from the goat cheese, ice cream and wine, perhaps it was the pain in my heart from it...well...breaking. or perhaps it was just that i have heard it all before...or more importantly said it all before.

maybe, and this is just an idea that i'm having, maybe i should drink some more, maybe that way i'd meet more people. actually, i think i should just wear girly shoes more often like i was tonight. perhaps there is something attractive about the structure of them. nigel says i strut. i think boys just may not like a girl in sneakers. too simple or too something else.

why is this something that consumes me? will boys like...who gives a fuck really? i am not that kind of girl to be honest. i have never really cared what 'boys' have thought of me because most of the time i nothing but an afterthought in comparison to my hot friends.

ACK...ok, i need to get off that train of thought. i am starting to feel like one of 'those girls'...y'know the type...THOSE girls. i am not those girls.

i think it's just something that comes with the territory...the territory that i am in right now. it's cold here, even though it's almost summer.

fuck!

off!

just fuck off michelle. sadness is so self-involved. go for run, get off your fat ass. do some fucking work and stop waiting for something that feels so beyond the point of possibility.

jesus michelle, you can say it all you want can't you. just talk and talk and talk and talk and tell yourself to get over it and stop talking about and stop sounding like a whiney, baby girl...like one of THOSE girls...

i shouldn't share these things. fuck that. that's the point of this whole excercise. i am too much of a liar. too polished. i edit too much. it doesn't make what i have to say interesting it just makes it all appropriately veiled and vague and something is only slightly reflective of who you are. try for once in your fucking life to be honest and maybe, just maybe it'll get you somewhere other than a land fueled by half-drunk exhausted rantings.

i crave cigarettes now. i smoke too much. i don't drink enough and...

EMO HEARTS UNITE!

it's all coming to an abrupt end...

NOW!

michelle.