Tuesday, 28 August 2012

dear you,

so i'm writing this to you. 

how about a minute? i cannot seem to fathom the lack of time. don't i sound desperate? funny. but it feels crappy. all the self-blame, the denial, unspoken anger. all i can do is scoff. psssh. oh what the hell. i'm not doing anything about it. i can't put the words together. i can't make you understand. after all, i should do ALL the understanding. i am THE EXPERT when it comes to human behaviour. yeah, that's me. i have to adjust too. i have to make do. 

why do i have to exert so much effort? and to think i prefer to be by myself. i feel so out of touch anyway. i'm not included anyway. it wouldn't be a problem. gaaah. this sounds like a freaking diary entry. "dear diary, i shouldn't have..." sad, isn't it? it's true. 

so, what the hell should i do? 

no thanks to you.

not sincerely yours,

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