it's silly how much i enjoy your distress, i must be a sadist. sanguine sadist.
langebaan is teeming with unfamiliar adolescents and i'm excited to meet them. i need new people, new distractions, because the old ones are kind of fizzling out.
shit, i have so much to blog about.
you're such a source of confusion for me. you do things to me that others don't, but you lack, and i don't know which to focus on. you have this, but you don't have that. i want to kiss you, but i dread it happening.
my eyes are drooping, my breathing is slowing and sounding more and more like an air conditioner (thanks baby) and i want to sleep.
if i could have my way, we'd be perfect. well, imperfect, but perfectly flawed. flawlessly imperfect?
i wish i could control/conceal my emotions, because they just keep spilling over, pouring into you, splashing all over bystanders. i, ah.
this feeling is too much for me.