Her sin is her lifelessness.

Bob Dylan, where have you been all my life? Anyway... these last few days have just been completely subpar. I'm so dead and I can't put this off anymore, I can't put off life; I'm running out of time. And that scares the fuck out of me.

However, I still somehow find the time to be a little bit sadistic, but I just can't help it.. you are so funny when you're completely uncomfortable.

PS, listen to Lux Aeterna by Clint Mansell. It's off of the Requiem for a Dream soundtrack and it's absolutely beautiful.

Catharsis and communism.

I don't want to let go, okay? I cling relentlessly to the few remnants I have left, from when I was happy, because if I let go, then what do I have? I don't have anything. And I don't know if I will ever feel like that again. You have to purge to move on. I can't purge until I can cry and I can't cry until I stop feeling so dead.

You know, Marx and his followers were so optimistic. They thought that the government would eventually just dissolve, that the human race could govern itself. Clearly, he had a much higher opinion of the general public than I. Some days I wish I could really believe that people are inherently good. But, I look at myself and know that it's just not true.

Let me be your wings.

I miss being a little kid. I remember when all it took to make me happy was a sweetly sung Disney song; I was lulled to sleep so easily. Lately, it's so much more reluctant.

I'm tired, so tired. But sleep is so desirable, so.. easy.

Almost funny.

So, when it rains, it pours? Apparently. Pours strange boy-men. None are quite grown-up yet, I think. But honestly, you know, I just wish I could tell them (I suppose I could) that they really don't want to date me. I'd tell them that I am a walking train wreck, that I am still in love with an old boyfriend who could care less (I'm realizing) and just.. I'm a bitch. I'll never love you, I won't trust you, I have people issues. I won't let you know me. I keep repeating this, over and over again, waiting for someone to tell me that I'm wrong. That they don't care, that it's okay that I'm a little bit broken; that I never healed quite right.

I kind of don't think it's going to happen. But a girl can dream, right?
OH WAIT.
You have to be able to fall asleep for that, huh.

Will you be my "it's complicated?"

You said I can't have both. But I refuse to believe that this is meaningless, I'm sorry.

I'm writing a novel.

Really, I am.

Your playlist gives you away.
I have got to come up with a better plan than alcohol and soft hair.