Then We Really Have to Go

Well, do you want to know what? I don't really care about being original. And I don't want to be different. Different people aren't that interesting. I am different, and do you want to know how interesting I am? Not at all. I know it and I wish people wouldn't try to convince me otherwise. I mean, fine I'm funny and decent enough to hang out with in public. I'm not an atrocity. But I'm not some stellar awesome person, either. I am just me, and I don't like being me.

Running can set you free. If you do it just right. Think of nothing but the road you're on. Not even where you're going, where you've been, or what's going on around you. Just you. I don't like it being just me. I guess that's why I am always moving. So there's no time to think of me, of how I am, who I am, or how much I truly loathe myself. But when you stop running like that, stop running so fast that you are free, you go so slow. And you think. And you wish you hadn't.

It's nice to know no one reads this anymore. Myspace saved me.

Have heart, my dear.

I want to be someone else. I want to be skinny and small and tan with a boyfriend who's obsessed with me, a thousand other guys if I lose him, and not a care in the world. Just pick up, drie away, not give a flying fuck about the rest of the world and it's problems. I do not care how cookie cutter OC that is.

But then I think about it. How meaningless is that? Living for today, not tomorrow. But then I think of how I don't know what I want out of tomorrow.

I don't know what I want at all.

Ugh, stupid Malley's.

And stupid Valentine's Day.

yo ho
yo ho
a (emo) pirate's life for
~me