the pineapple is in a bad mood. very bad, very bad, disgusting, halloween!!! oh wait, no, not amusing devil doll… BAD MOOD. or you know…meh. yeah, that’s it…just fucking MEH.
i mean, i *did* have a fabulous weekend and all that what with movies and frolicking and friends and concerts and getting an AWESOME new bike and all that. but you know, i’m a fickle little wench and i feel like crap-encrusted crap on crap crackers.
::le sigh::
i suppose my bad mood really started thursday night with the re-emergence of the rockstar… :( he just…he just…i mean fuck. i was doing OK, you know. or at least i had gotten a pretty firm grasp on pretending that i was doing ok. i am exceptionally talented at putting on a front like my smiles are genuine, like i’m really happy when i’m laughing, like it doesn’t hurt that i don’t ever talk to him anymore, like i don’t miss the sound of his voice, like i’m not thinking about him all the time. i’m the master of distractions, too. in avoidance of anything rockstar-related i’ve been filling my time (and my thoughts) with as many OtherThings as humanly possible. but it’s all a front.
i still think about him every day. at least once, if not more. and more often than not i mercilessly torture myself with thoughts of “is he thinking about me?” which are, by far, the worst thoughts of all. and i’m so freaking infuriated over the fact that one, solitary conversation with him can bring all those old doubts, all that hurt and misery, all the heartache and pain flooding back as if it were just yesterday that we broke up. and i’m doing the same stupid things all over again.
i’m letting him hurt me, i’m letting him break me down…and i *know* it. but i’ll do something even more stupid, i’ll think of all the things he did to me, all the horrible things he said, and i’ll be so overpowered by how badly i miss him that i’ll shrug it off and think ‘but it wasn’t always like that…’ i know…i KNOW!!!! i’m stupid. i’m weak. he made me this way, but i *let* him do it. i know! i mean, i told him myself that i don’t trust him…and i don’t. not after everything, not anymore i don’t. but at the same time, i trust myself even less when it comes to him. i mean…oh blegh.
and gravy and i were talking last night about honesty in relationships and came to the conclusion that only if you DON’T CARE about someone are you 100% completely honest with them. because ultimately any withholding of information or some such thing is lying…basically. which sucks, you know.
::growl::
fuck that noise. i have *got* to stop thinking about that for a while…or him…it’s always him…always…it’s like he’s infested my brain, my thoughts, my memories…in a way much more severe & damaging than when we were together, because at least then, he loved me too.
and so what did life decide to do? life decided to give me other bullshit to occupy my thoughts, you know…to have some non-rockstar-induced issues. woo and yay! only like, NOT. :rolleyes:
apparently back in rocky vegas max had convinced some hapless old ladies who are too nosy for their own good that he’s so neglected and unloved and blah blah blah that they got their grubby, slimy, conniving evil cuntrag hands on my gram’s — MY GRAM’S — things and were going to FUCKING SELL THEM!!!
i mean, i am fucking livid and can’t fucking believe it.
FUCKING PHONES!!! i’ll be back…
::stomps back in::
ok so i’m back. fucking phones!!! on the one hand, i’m cheesed because you know…i finished my book and i bought a bottle of bubbles today, so that’s cool. it’s usually a good thing that little things can amuse me so much, ya know. or something. i’m easy to please. ::shrug::
anyway, i’m still kinda messed from yesterday. from the thought of that asshole rooting through my gram’s things…living up in her house and all that shit. fuck that! i wish he could just be locked away or something. i hate that he’s living in my gram’s house. he’s totally ruined it…completely. and that used to be the place i’d go to feel the safest, to be at peace, and he’s utterly defiled it. i hate him. i really and truly do. i mean…
it’s my gram.
her things…
her house…
:(
and my stupid uncle john isn’t doing a damned thing about it. i’m just so…fucking enraged. and heartsick over the whole thing. and i hate it. i hate it to pieces.
