.oO(Sometimes I blur the edges.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 10 April 2009: Ramblings of a drunk girl. He's right, I always do prefer fantasy. Not 'the' fantasy, assuming all that which is impossible - but fantasy, meaning what I cannot have. I hate that I won't be mentioning his name. I'm so fucking pretty sometimes, and I think I have a crush on myself. I hate that I am pretty sometimes, because then it makes the line between 'friends' and 'more than' blurry - which means that when a friend is in a funk, they don't want to talk to me because they feel like there is some 'front' they need to keep up. Regardless of what I say. Vodka makes me free. The light is coming, the tunnel is getting smaller. I love She Wants Revenge, and they are the soundtrack to my night. I am a sucker for Brittish and Australian accents. He means more to me than he should. I don't even have just one 'he' in mind when I say that. I am most likely sending mixed signals. I hate it when I am just talking about sex in general, and whoever I am talking to makes it into talk of sex between they and I. Ugh. Fuck Jack Sparrow, I want Doc Holliday. "You've come a long way, Baby." I'm getting angry. It's time to make a goodnight video and go to bed. -Lisa. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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