torpe.

journal entry.

I am not a good person. I am the saddest person alive. I don't hardly smile. I don't fall in love either. 

Wait, let me take that back.

i was in love with a white girl. well i didn't know her race, but since she looked white, she's white girl.

She wears flowers in her hair, they are so beautiful and they smell so fucking good everytime she passes me in the coffee shop. 

I just wanted to-

I'm off subject.

Anyway, i'm not a good person. I smoke cigarettes, i can hardly make friends because of my mean mugs and tattoo's, they say i'm a "loner" and i'm "insane" or sitting at the kids playground, staring at the sky. they don't understand me. i am a depressed man, wishing i wasen't born. i don't contact anyone anymore. I live alone. Alone-- I love being alone. The thought of someone in my apartment makes me wanna cry. 

every day i go to this small little coffee shop. it's one of the places i can be alone and write. every tuesday and friday i see the white girl walk in, sit by the window and yell out "can i get my regular please?" then the old man comes rushing and he gives her the coffee. i watch her drink it looking outside. i love the way she wears big sweaters, covering her arms, even though it's the summer; and i love the way her wears her black leggings. every time she looks at me, i look down, blushing and biting my lip.

i wonder did she ever notice me? probably not. she doesn't want a guy who cuts when he's depressed, or a guy who is sad all the fucking time, or a guy who just wants to cuddle instead of having sex. 

no, she probably wants a bad boy. although, i do some pretty bad shit. 

whatever, i'm just a confusing fuck, who loves the girl with the flowers in her hair....