True Confessions

Odd news today. Travis has gotten rid of yet another girlfriend, which makes me wonder. How many will he go through a month? And is it worth it to go after him? If he flirts mercilessly with me while dating another girl, he'd do it to me too.

I must confess however, that's fine. I find myself attracted to his every sin, his every single little imperfection. Oh, I'm unraveling, my skin's tightly wound threads coming loose and getting caught in tiny fans invisible to the human eye.

He's so flawless in my eyes that he could knock me out with a single smile, or even a bitter word. Ah, the infatuation. It's like being drowned, the feeling of no escape, yet the pleasure of the water on your skin. Feelings so mixed it's impossible to tell where the salt ends and the alcohol begins.

I don't think he realizes he's the most important thing in my life right now. If you haven't noticed, it's becoming impossble for me to talk about what I need to talk about, and that would be Jake. He's just abruptly losing importance in my life. Odd. We've always been together, like peanut butter and chunky, awkward jelly. Him being the smooth peanut butter that everyone loves and me being the jelly that manages to fall out of the sides of the sandwhich every single time.

Oh well.

See, I think yesterday's escapades were just something my mind worked up because of no sleep. I've caught up on about ten hours, which will suffice. I have to have an optimistic outlook for the sake of medication and the poison running through my veins. My worry is a mere feather in the day's events.

I'm becoming a lot more happy. My brain is beginning to function normally, THANK YOU soft pillows. However, things aren't normal. I have this feeling they never will be. The sardonic words that pile up in my head are swishing around in there as we speak.

Wallowing in my own self-pity has always been one of my favorite past times. Have you ever read Perks Of Being A Wallflower? My friend suggested it and threw it into my arms, her torn copy that looked like a pen exploded on it, and said, "read it." I did in an hour. It was the best book I have ever read, and I'm suggesting that you read it. Then I think you might be able to just barely comprehend what I'm going through. I don't know what page it's on, but there's this quote somewhere in the book that goes, "I don't want to start thinking again. Not like I have this last week. I can't think again. Not ever again. I don't know if you've ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That's why I'm trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning." That's exactly how I've been feeling.

So read that book. Has anyone ever done this to you? Suggested side-reading just to draw you away from their story? Huh. I never really thought about that until now. And a lot of people do that to me.

Sometimes I think people who write books are crazy. I mean, honestly, do you want to live somewhere else or make up a place just so you can be yourslef? I thought that's what life was supposed to be. A place for you to be yourself.

I guess words let you be a lot more honest than if you speak. I know that I have trouble with speaking, words in front of me that I can actually see make a lot more sense.

If my theory is right though, that means I'm crazy. I kind of hope I am. Maybe that will get me some attention.