vasupgirl

the song it’s about a woman who falls in, apparently, unrequited love with a man. She feels so consumed and overwhelmed by this emotion - blinded by the intensity of it - that she is literally in the dark; totally lost, confused, scared, cannot see the wood for the trees, and also in agony because she believes that he doesn’t feel the same way. She decides she has to remove herself from his influence, yet in doing so she finds out that he is in fact in love with her too, so they lose themselves in each other (“Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too, So I stayed in the darkness with you”).

The end fucker.

Call. Me. Please. Ugh.

is there anything i can do to have you back… you were honest, 100%. All i could do is act (be) an ignorant child the entire time. i asked more of you than i knew i could or should, i made you everything i thought i needed. i was angry towards you for no reason at all. I’m sorry. you hopefully know who you are. i hope. i know Ive got A LOT of things to work on, and the honest truth is, we will NEVER be more than friends. but the even deeper worse truth is i fell in love with your personality. your dry humor and the endless AIM conversations with you into the early ass hours of the morning. you helped a lot when i was sick, and hurt, literally dying on the couch. you put up with my not having any form of REAL communication, being sick, being overly needy, tired, hungry. you gave me some of the best advice ive heard in a very long time. i didn’t tell you everything i needed to. a lot about my childhood, house fires(all 3) and the reasons for divorcing myself from my family. how i met the man that USETO hurt me. (thank you so much for giving me the confidence to do what needed to be done.. :)))  hahahaha im really really sorry. i wish i had enough courage to say this to you in person or over the phone or something. but i dont. its funny because, we were “interested”, we AIMED forever, we “hated” for even longer, and never actually spoke to you on the phone. i though about your voice a lot. too much really. but never really had the pleasure.

ive thought long and hard about what to say to make things right. but i n all honesty its really not in my power to do so. i was the one who fucked up, BAD, but i am sorry. if you can ever forgive me. please let me know….call me something.

What is it to wake up in the bed of a man that you think you love. to see his heavy eyes twitch and fluxuate and slowly open. With a forced grin he whispers goodmorning and you feel compelet. Then you roll back over to the colder side of the bed and he grabs you tightly around the waist, pulls you in and kisses you gently on the cheek. Noises in the background; running water, the shower, mcmuffin meowing at the strange boy laying in daddies bed. A very wet and naked man walks from the bathroom still dripping he says “goodmorning!” you see the man and the boy have a past. They met in the happiest place on earth, fell hardbfor eachother then were seperated by age and distance. The boy wouldn’t really know any better but to try and be faithful to the man. Frequent phone calls, goodmorning texts, letters in the mail. But all along he didn’t see what was really happening. On this trek that the boy took to the city of angles, he visited the man. The man would pick him up from the train station and let him stay at his house for a night. Passion was infused throught the sheets where they would play. Proceeding sex followed sleep. As he turned twards the east wall, all of these feelings began to sink in. He would feel cheap,as always, disgusted with himself, as always, and wonder if THIS would make the man love him, a daily thought. He had done this a million times before but something about this time felt different. After the feeling had melted away into sleep he awoke. The man was gone, he had left the boy, to attend business in the city. The boy would lay there. Staring at the celing wondering what to do and what was to happen next. Soon after he began to explore. The mans room that is. He would look through the mans elaborate CD collection, rummage through DVD’s and Playstation games, he stumbled upon a small box. It contained a passport, 2 ceramic cats, a broken fork and photos of him… and another man. This other man was shorter than I, he was some sort of hawaiian or pacific islander. He wore a tanktop and board shorts and metalic silver raybans in most of his photos. This other man was holding my true love within his arms, grinning from ear to ear as if he were taunting me. This other man was in a photo frame that was dated 9 days prior to today. This other man… was featured in an entire album of adventures. Sea world, hiking, Disneyland. This other man…wasn’t at all me…

and your cool blog.

and pretty eyes.

and overly vintage car….

fml.

“when i say that everyone from NY can fornicate yourself with an iron stick” 

But i kind of forgot how bad this gets. I’m trying to stay positive but it’s kind of hard when it hurts to brethe. I hate this. I hate him. I hate the ER. I need to Make it all go away.

The deep crunch and pop of gravel against leather and wood filled the entrials of the alley he and two others paraded down. It had been an extrodinarly long night. Eye opening to say the least. Apearing to be lost, broke and cold the two very apprehensive kids waltzed down the streets of west Hollywood. Both distracted by “m3nz”, as they would call them, and realizing with each step that life was more than late night snacks and reruns of “the real housewives” it was more than either of them could handle and they wished to be apart of this life that the great world had unvailed to they’re eyes at that moment. Noticing eyes undressing them both, an excape route was necessary. They called upon an Asian mother, a homosexual spritual advisor, and finally this creature and texturozed character named “roar”. This creature was the very last person that was wished to me mentioned and dialed. However, desperation and a lack of money resulted in a slumber party on a very old semen and sweat stained black fouton. It was the night of the theives.