Friday, December 19, 2008

A sincerely regretful occurance

My mind was my own for almost ten seconds today. Then the hallucinations came. The first one involved Amber Tamblyn. She explained that those things sticking to my heart were called ticks and I was contracting Lyme Disease, which is inherently why I could see her so clearly. She took my hand in hers and convinced me to yodel Krystal-Jeannette-Bernadette.

Then I dropped the scanner at my job, and almost ran outside with tears because she strolled in, with that icky parasite she calls "boyfriend" and his Mohawk was more pink than my bangs because his sexuality is more perilous than mine. I began to cry. Little D was there but she was...preoccupied, and I know how hard an eight-hour-shift is so I refused to eat the candy bar no matter how 'free' they say it's supposed to be. I can't afford to sell my soul no more.

These awkward little Meghan Byrds told the truth on my shoulder, and Krystal texted to apologize, the greatest moment of my life, like all my dreams came true. I'm in love with her. I have always been and I'm sure to always be. I am hopeless and helpless and oh-so-dramatic.

I'm tired of being crazy. It keeps me awake at night. I can't sleep for nightmares of watching them suffer and I cant breathe for the stinging feeling in my lungs. I cant cry for the ticks in my eye, and my blood pressure is heated with hemoglobin.

I need drugs because I'm losing my wisdom teeth faster than you lost your virginity. If I were knocked, or slapped, or hit up, I'm sure I'd reply the same way. I wouldn't keep it, unless it was yours which is as possible as you calling to say you're sorry.

What I'm trying to say is that my heart fluttered every second you were near me today. I was hot and bothered, I was sobbing, my voice was cracking, and I could almost feel your hatred surging into my skin. But those ticks or butterflies or whatever they are, were still there and they yearned for you, even though I've almost successfully forgotten. I'm not a lover, or a dancer, or a fighter. I'm not anything but tragically in love with you.

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