Desire to be pretty like girls in shots by paparazzi, so glamorous when they're dressed like trash and drunk off cheap beer.
The voice of an angel, able to sing any note and speak in the right tones at the right times.
When the talent just comes to you. Writing, working, piano, guitar, bass, drums, speech, looks, grammar, fashion sense, walk, talk, breath, life.
So rich you could buy a Hummer just 'cause you feel like having something cheap to drive drunk in in case you get in a wreck, or a house to move to when you get bored of your OTHER million dollar estate.
Normality is either golden or rotten, and I'll either bore you or disgust you. It's all in your perspective.
And me. I need this. I need anything you can give, because god knows I don't have any of it in me already.
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The pros and cons of breathing stack up like weights on a balance. Always trying to even it out. Add a pro, add a con, add a pro, add a con. And then you'll run out of one or the other and just keep going until the balance tips over. That's when you're like "Well, fuck. " There's your answer.
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"I feel like I just died a little inside."
"Why?"
"I don't know, but I feel like I'm always tearing people apart, trying to get to the bottom of them. Thinking, maybe if I figure them out, I won't love them anymore, and I won't have to. So I rip off all the layers, and... It's so fucked up, it just makes me want more. And then, when I run out of layers, I move on. And it's just so hard doing that over and over and over again. I hate it and I love it at the same time. I just try to figure people out. Or things, like, I don't know, books. Movies. Songs, especially. Thinking if I figure them all out, learn every line, break down every metaphor, then I'll grow numb to it. And I do, but the thing is, that hurts just as bad."
"Mhm."
"And I hate how the only people I like enough to talk to, like my mom, or the few friends I have, don't really seem to give a fuck about me or what I feel. It makes me want to just..."
"People are like that. And it's pretty fucked up."
"But I'm not like that. And that's why I don't get it."
"I do give a fuck though. A weird, kinky, sweaty, friends-with-benefits kind of fuck. But still."
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I use people, and I push them just to see how far they will bend. If you associate with me, you WILL be my personal therapist on more than one occasion, like it or not. But I love my friends. I do. In a weird, knock-your-front-teeth-out-and-then-fuck-away-the-pain sort of way.
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