Like a title song in an album, here is the title chapter of my scribblins, it's how this whole thing started and looking back I think "what.an.emo", but I found a few chuckles amongst the "I'm so deep and misunderstood" contradictions:
you're a hedonistic prick
who only thinks with his dick.
You will not defeat me. You already have. You only keep me. Leave me.
go away. go away. GO AWAY.
come back. stay. disappear.
I'm not mad.
I'm just a little bit strange. Acceptance is the first step. I suppose I'm just a little bit emotional. Maybe too emotional. But not mad. Not insane. Sane, very sane. With some help. And sometimes alcohol. NO. THAT IS INSANE. No alcohol. Just people.
Tortured soul. Like being a tiny bug that little kids rip the legs off of for fun. One by one.
With every action a new leg is being torn.
But I'm like a centipede.
It could go on forever .
You could torture me forever.
You look pathetic.
Really, really pathetic.
Like an attention seeking rat.
Being detained? Seriously.
I'm finally free and now someone else is trying to keep me.
When will I be able to escape?
Now I don't know what you're doing. Or who.
Be polite you little squirm.
Overcoming every obstacle thrown at me.
Like prince charming fighting dragons.
Unfortunately it's like Shrek turning up and the princess being utterly repulsed.
BUT EVEN HE WINS HER OVER!!
Why can't I win?
Tomorrow I'll be yellow?
Yellow is a happy colour.
Tomorrow I'll be colourful.
The red light district, like Dragon's den.
*side note* SOULAIMA IS REALLY SPECIAL.
Soon the nonsense of caring about anyone but myself will stop.
Soon I will treat men the same way they treat women.
Like germs: catch it, bin it, kill it.
Jokes... I woke up still drunk this morning. I'm sober now, but I wonder what I packed...
Poor sod really went for the wrong person, he's screwed now, I've clawed my way in and he won't get rid of me.
If I end up actually falling for him and he ends up like the other one, I'm no jokes turning gay.
Honestly, who says babe so much?
You can never tell with these player anymore.
I need one of those Charlie and the Chocolate Factory machines to separate the good eggs from the bad...
As I walk towards you
a smile overcomes me.
I'm happy to see you,
I'm happy you're ugly.
Eh. What a creepy little man.
His teeth. His hair. His shirt.
I swear his eyes were doing something funky too.
I need him in order to get well.
Well. As if I'm sick.
As if you diseased me with your violent blows to my soul.
Innuendo's a plenty,
Without us France is empty.
Today I felt like someone waited for every moment where I started to feel okay to throw another brick at me.
What's funny is we do funny things.
But we are both separately funny.
We are not very funny together.
We spend so much time in that single bed.
Remember the time we broke it's head?
Can you explain me to me?
Far beyond my conscious feelings.
Is this still you.
Am I still you.
Are you still there?
I need to manage my own brain.
To tell it what to feel.
Rather than it telling me.
How can anyone be jealous of the played and used middle man?
You were just a pawn in our game.
Go on fatty, try to beat me up.
I need a man dictionary.
I don't understand you.
What is the definition of you towards me?
I am so frustrated...
In every sense of the word.
There's December to February in a nutshell...