the rockstar strikes again…
rockstar (12:04:23 AM): well i just wanted to ssay hi
rockstar (12:04:28 AM): i am going to sleep now
pineapple (12:04:29 AM): ok then
rockstar (12:04:44 AM): ok then? you mad?
pineapple (12:05:26 AM): bye
rockstar (12:06:00 AM): why are you mad
pineapple (12:06:18 AM): have a nice night
rockstar (12:06:23 AM): why
rockstar (12:06:25 AM): [pineapple]
rockstar (12:06:30 AM): i logged in just to say hi
pineapple (12:06:47 AM): what?
rockstar (12:07:11 AM): the only reason i logged in was to say hi
rockstar (12:07:16 AM): to you
::sigh::
i’m not “mad” at him…i’m just monumentally frustrated. at myself, at the situation, at the world, at boston, at work, at school, at my family, at timing, at bad fucking luck, at karma, at the whores of the world, at assmunchkins and nutless wonders, at dudes who mack on me in bars, at random wendy’s waiters, at finances, at every boy in the world who’s not him — who will never be him, and of COURSE i’m frustrated at the rockstar.
ugh…
he said my name (well, ok not so much ‘said’ as ‘typed’). it’s surreal to see it, to see it from him…he doesn’t really use it…i mean, it’s always ‘hey’ or something. i don’t really be like ‘rockstar…blah blah blah’. we just know each other. but when he uses my name…i hate how he’s the only one in the world i ever want to hear saying my name. how even something monumentally stupid makes me get all melty and emotional and retarded.
yeah…
::frustrated::
