While....... maintaining a conversation.
(And now... able to type.)
I'm good at it now.
I always thought it was going to be SPELLING.
Life is Strange like that.
I woke up in a cold sweat this morning.
Full Blown Panic Attack.
I guess that's what it was--I've heard them described.
My dreams are getting to me.
So's the Boy.
I've failed, something horrid.
I thought I was happy.
Someone--someone very much involved with that happiness.....
Told me, He wasn't.
We're both, not.
I can't wrap my head around it.
And it would REALLY help if one of you would call when you KNOW
I'm at WORK....
and leave me a message.
Because the last one is from him.
And every time I come home, I push PLAY.
Even though I know.....
HE tells me he's got my Catwoman comics back from Steven, and my Mixer...
and that I should "call back, some time"
I push play. a lot.....after I'm in no condition....to call him back.
He's got THREE drunk dials out of me....
every man I have ever dumped.
I HAVE BECOME.........
*head in hands*
Not a lot of pity, when I cry:
I'VE NEVER BEEN DUMPED BEFORE!!!!!
*head in hands on knees*
i did this to
I'm leaving this BAD BOY open....
just in case any of them are watching.
She has finally gotten her OWN.
*Crack* the Zippo, and light the cigarette.
SHE gets it.
IT's making me crazy, and eating my stomach.
I can't eat
I can't sleep...
And I just don't understand.
Here ya Go.
One of yours, got me back.
Somebody Ring a fucking Bell.