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Roses and Maybes 1

And even before the scene started I was already crying rivers, because I knew what was coming. The feelings, the tears, the...this...some sort of release from the knot on my throat that is killing me ever so slowly that I almost don't notice.

Almost.

I notice it at night, when I lay my head on the pillow and close my eyes, and that small door on the back of my head opens and floods my brain with thoughts that I'd rather never let emerge.

I noticed when I got drunk. In a terribly clear way.

I cry because I identify, because I don't believe in this happy ending, even though I haven't seen the end of the movie yet.

Maybe it's just a really crappy movie, where the end doesn't look like it, and you get the feeling that something's missing. Some explanation, some last scene, a music, a dialogue.

Maybe I make too many paragraphs because I want to fill this with all of what the words cannot come close to (and that I'll never even let out loud). Because if they did, I'd be explaining it to you, and not making some weird random text at 3 a.m. At least it's not (too) late.

I hate it that she keeps falling asleep on the keyboard and erasing parts of the text. Maybe God is trying to spare her from exposing herself too much. And guess what? It's part of the masoquism to expose and wait for that someone to wreck it all, not on purpose, but because you enticed that.

I hate the lyrics and what they mean. And the voice. And the metaphor. And how true it is. And how I just give up and give in, and just feel. The goosebumps there, y'know? That's where it all started.

I'm wearing pink today. It's October 3rd. Maybe I wish I was some kind of Regina George or Veronica before philosophy classes.

I laughed with the movie. Roses are overestimated. Maybe someone out there likes this Sun *Flower*.

They could be so so so gay for each other, omg. But it was a very nice storyline. I'm not gonna dwell on that again. I'm currently a piece of crap.

"Just take one step at a time"

She'll finish this late(r).