When I see her I want to run away, screaming. She does something to me I don't particularly enjoy. People can be so vile and self-serving.
This coupled with funny friends of convenience leaves me empty inside. I'm filled with emotion and happiness, but I have not a person with whom to express it. The weekend always provides great insights into a world I no longer wish to live. Why are things so fucked up and weird? Why do I feel so disappointed in humanity? I can think of only a handful of people that give me hope for a brighter tomorrow.
Labels are for jars, not people. People first language. I love it. Talking is not for the casual. Every little word has two meanings, the intended and intrinsic. I'm digging deep inside myself for an answer or anything, but I keep coming up with nothing.
All the foul-smelling, tailor-made, business suits are exposing my hypocrisy. Sell me your philosphy. Finality.
I don't think anyone is ever going to want me again. I'm too broken and disturbed. I'm much like a disease, or rather, people's reaction to a disease. It's sad, but why would anyone care about someone like me?
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