"it came without packages boxes or bags!"
12/26/2001 04:46 p.m.
I hate it when I can't get someone off my mind. I hate it when all of my poems that were meant to be selfloathing and hateful turn into mushy love poems. I hate it when I get all weird and lame and ...

vulnerable.

oh, gag me. I hate this. This helpless feeling of



love.
Like you could do anything for that person, and worse, you want to. I hate broken hearts and longing and missing and giving all with nothing in return. I want to take and make him want me. I want him to know what I go through, maybe that'll change his mind about our dear little Anna. I hate disliking someone I've never met who's probably the nicest person in the world. No doubt, nicer than me.
I JUST want to know, why didn't he call? If he was SO concerned about my health, if he was as in love with me as his eyes said when our eyes locked, why didn't he call? Wow, I bet I'm the first one to ask that question. *wipes the sarcasm dripping from her mouth*

and once again, I sound bitter and angry at the world. and once again, I'm a very joyful person. but you people don't believe me. Maybe I should try coming on here when I'm happy about something. I'm always happy, just the extremity of the happiness, well, varies. You see, it's like with poetry, I usually write when I'm at the extremes of life, which is what makes me come out looking depressed, in love, lame, or, heck, let's just say it..
joyless.
I'm in no way joyless. :) see, that's me with joy. oh, what the heck, it was Christmas :D

seriously though, I'm joyful.


who the heck am i talking to?? and why do i keep saying heck? i'm going, you people are driving me insane.


I am currently Detached
I am listening to secret smile, semisonic