02 March 2010
Soul-Crushing Breakup #617
Wounds taste salty. So I'm working very hard to stop licking them.
The idea of dating makes me sick, physically sick. But I'll do it anyway because my sorrow, MY GREAT, GRAND, NEVER-ENDING, MOTHERFUCKING MELANCHOLIC SORROW is dull. Crying is dull. I would like love without pain please. And also a giant lion robot that shoots lasers out his eyes. And an elephant.
Until then I chain smoke, write charming emails, Google the living crap out of hapless internet boyfriends-to-be and watch the sky outside my bedroom window change from morning to noon to dusk to night.