Arachne in Blunderland
Nobody Puts Baby In the Corner: A Note of Venom
[07 Dec 2006 | Thursday]
Current mood: ecstatic
Category: Life
Dear Mr. DeadBoy McIHateYou,
So, it was nice to see you today. I only forgot to breathe for a few seconds and I didn't mind that you weren't even man enough to speak.
I wasn't going to beat you up... Too much. Real gangstas don't mess your face up. I'm real gangster. Luckily, I have various lovers to hold me back when I get all dinosaur-like.
I know you haven't thought about me at all. I deserve that for the months spent after Messiah. I remember him fondly, unlike you. His music, his smile, his messages of redemption, divorce and pie. He knew the answer was 'B'... I love him, even still. He never really hurt me. But you?
Well, you didn't exactly leave on the best terms, did you? Something along the lines of suicide, depression and what was the other thing... Oh, yeah, 'it's not you, it's me'... Typical boy-propaganda. Total bullshit. Tore me up. But still, I smiled or cried whenever I thought of dragons or heard a real growl... When I cut my hair the first time... When the moon was a weird sliver... Little things I doubt you noticed. So, it was a bit of a shock when I found out you were still among the living and did the only rational thing.
Killed you.
Car accident, you were a bloody mess. Closed casket funeral I didn't attend. I thought about it but then I was like... I don't owe him that even. But you couldn't just leave, could you? You had to come back as this horrible hyper-concentrated ghost. But if you think that because I'm taking the time to acknoledge your supernatural presence I'm going to fall back into the depression that The Boyfriend tried so hard to keep me out of, at his own loss, I'm not. I just want you and all the other shitty boys with your mannerisms to understand that girls are stronger than you.
While admittedly, we'll make you think we need you, we don't. You're not allowed to push us around or break us apart. We're not going to take it sitting down. We're going to come back and haunt you, like you're trying to haunt me. Because when you're that pathetic, how can you call yourselves men?
Chemically,
The Doll-eyed Llama
Post Script
Hope the weather's nice down there and can you ask Lu to call me, please? Thanks.
Current mood: ecstatic
Category: Life
Dear Mr. DeadBoy McIHateYou,
So, it was nice to see you today. I only forgot to breathe for a few seconds and I didn't mind that you weren't even man enough to speak.
I wasn't going to beat you up... Too much. Real gangstas don't mess your face up. I'm real gangster. Luckily, I have various lovers to hold me back when I get all dinosaur-like.
I know you haven't thought about me at all. I deserve that for the months spent after Messiah. I remember him fondly, unlike you. His music, his smile, his messages of redemption, divorce and pie. He knew the answer was 'B'... I love him, even still. He never really hurt me. But you?
Well, you didn't exactly leave on the best terms, did you? Something along the lines of suicide, depression and what was the other thing... Oh, yeah, 'it's not you, it's me'... Typical boy-propaganda. Total bullshit. Tore me up. But still, I smiled or cried whenever I thought of dragons or heard a real growl... When I cut my hair the first time... When the moon was a weird sliver... Little things I doubt you noticed. So, it was a bit of a shock when I found out you were still among the living and did the only rational thing.
Killed you.
Car accident, you were a bloody mess. Closed casket funeral I didn't attend. I thought about it but then I was like... I don't owe him that even. But you couldn't just leave, could you? You had to come back as this horrible hyper-concentrated ghost. But if you think that because I'm taking the time to acknoledge your supernatural presence I'm going to fall back into the depression that The Boyfriend tried so hard to keep me out of, at his own loss, I'm not. I just want you and all the other shitty boys with your mannerisms to understand that girls are stronger than you.
While admittedly, we'll make you think we need you, we don't. You're not allowed to push us around or break us apart. We're not going to take it sitting down. We're going to come back and haunt you, like you're trying to haunt me. Because when you're that pathetic, how can you call yourselves men?
Chemically,
The Doll-eyed Llama
Post Script
Hope the weather's nice down there and can you ask Lu to call me, please? Thanks.