Poison Girl

I'm by no means the most interesting person in this world. I know a couple of people who are interesting enough and entertaining, but here's the thing. No one wants to be the one who isn't that person. So you found yourself a bunch of like minded emo kids on the web and myspace says you have one bazilion friends whom you've never met. Don't add me on facebook, i don't want to be your friend. I don't know you. Here, read this and get it out of your system. Nothing can make you whole, you have to already be that way. And if you aren't, a bunch of anonymous people like me cant' do that for you. Bye

It's always been someone or something. I don't think I have a void that needs filling, i think i want a void that needs filling. I'm not broken ... damaged maybe. I substitute people in between other people because i want to need them and i want to be needed back. It can't possibly be healthy, not for me or for the people who i've managed to convince they need me. I let go of them when i think they're getting bored of me, and i find someone new who I assume i can't possibly need ... and then .... then i want to need them. I need all the time. I need them to want me. I want them to need me.

now this stupid fucking bloggy thing wants to work. i JUST opened a bloody myspace account, dammit. Yeah though maybe the myspace one shouldn't be read, i just put it out there cos it was annoying the fucking shit out of me. now lets see if this thing publishes

I dont' believe in this busines, the one of breaking hearts that is, have we all become blinded by the poets of the world who assume that the heart is where everything gets going hence it must be the death of us. I have a theory, the theory goes something like people break people not hearts, so yeah you feel it in your heart first but there's lots more that gets broken. Like after a car crash and broken bones, they heal but they'll never be the same.

 

Everything's gotta heal again, the arms you traced your fingers down, the stomach you caressed, the fingers you linked with yours, the eyes that sparkled with the samed excitement you felt as you looked into them, the lips you once traced with your tongue, the skin you had pressed against your own ... its all gotta heal again, and of course your broken heart. You leave and you leave behind a broken person not just a broken heart.

 

People break people. Not hearts.

 

XXX

Su

Someone please tell me what the foggy i should be doing