farewell to words

hello my loyal reader(s?),

you might have the wrong idea. no, you do have the wrong idea. anything i write here can not be mistaken as fact. it's only as real as you want to believe it.

quiet night

drinking by yourself is pretty depressing; that groggy feeling you get and your senses blur as you're dazed in a drunken stupor. you collapse face down and no one is there to help you up. i couldn't help but think, or try to think, and i thought i would be a pretty lonely kid for the rest of my life.

this led me to think i should not care about girls. just let it go and the longing won't bother me. for now at least.

jeff you were right. now shut up.

stop it

so you avoid me, but you try to hide it. quite honestly what an immature little bitch you are. i don't hate you, or have any feelings for you at all. you just act conceited. you think people would actually want to stalk you? you wish. i'd like to say this to you but we never talk anymore, and saying anything would give you the wrong idea because you're fucking clueless. no, i never wanted to get back at you. that was 6 months ago and i'd rather not think about it.