Insomniac.

Apparently sleeping is not an option tonight. I love having four hours of sleep before an eight hour shift.

"I'm afraid to sleep because of what haunts me.
Such as, living with the uncertainties.
That I'll never find the words to say that will completely explain.
Just how I'm breaking down.
Yes, I'm breaking down."

I can't formulate words that are my own. Not properly, anyways.

Set Yourself On Fire.

"It's nothing but time & a face that you lose
I you chose to feel it but you I couldn't choose.
I'll write you a post card, I'll send you the news
From a house down the road from real love


LIVE THROUGH THIS & YOU WON'T LOOK BACK."

I don't have any real decisions to make. I think I'm just being ungrateful or is it for real. This is the chapter I never wanted to write. I want to tear out all the metaphorical pages and burn them. Everything feels tenfold. I need to be less melodramatic and a little more realistic. I get sick to my stomach thinking about how much I could hurt you. And I feel even worse for thinking about it. I will swallow everything I feel.

Tuesday Confessionals.

+ I am a closet brand-junkie. I don't own a lot, but I secretly love designer stuff. (Michael Kors, Kenneth Cole, Betsey Johnson, etc.) It hurts my wallet too much to feed the brand-junkie though. Which is probably a good thing.

+ My room is such a disaster that I just want to clean it, but I have no idea where to begin.

+ I have favourites. And they vary constantly.

+ I hate my job most of the time, but I do like most of the people I work with.

+ I can't stand not having finalized plans, I hate waiting on people to figure out what's going on. This is a large part of the reason that I take on pretty much all planning tasks, because I like to know what's going on at all times. I also really hate waiting for the schedule at work.

untitled.

hypocrisy
gets you no where.



enough said.

Truth is, I am done pretending.

"I never thought that I had anymore to give."

I don't think you understand how much I miss you. But you know that I enjoy being an ass to you way too much to actually admit it. I can't help but remember that you were always there at 5 in the morning when I needed you most. Telling me your embarrassing secrets to make me stop crying. I don't want to have to wait until mid-august to see you again. I hope you don't lurk my blog anymore, because this could be embarrassing. We just don't do sentimental.

If I could've stopped this I would have. Had I known ahead of time.