Leave me with some kind of clue it's not a dream

[Lyrics by Paramore. You have to tell me what song. No Google.]

I got told to write a new blag. I'm not sure I have much to say. But this is the internet, and this is me, so I suppose that I shall write and write until I can write no more.

My thigh is sore. That sounds really giggity-worthy, but it's not. Stupid genes and work pants and rubbing and ow.

Random fact: I like the smell of smoke on my hands. Like, after I have a cigarette, I like the smell it leaves. Don't ask me why. I'm not really a huge fan of how smoke smells in the first place. I don't have a problem with it, obviously, but I'm really extraordinarily self-consious about my smell and therefore don't like to smell like smoke cos some people loathe it.

I could sit here and talk about my feelings. That would take up roughly the entire internet. Truth be told, I don't know what to say right now. I know that as soon as I turn off the lights and close my eyes, I'll think of a million and a half things to say. Maybe this is the part where I just let my hands do the talking and leave my brain out of the equation. Maybe this is the part where I talk about how confused I am on somedays, how sad I am, but how I've been doing my absolute best to put everything at the back of my mind and make everything okay. Maybe this is the part where I talk about how terrible my awful life is.

Maybe this is the part where I say things that make it awkward. Things that will never get brought up again. Except, of course, when I end up rereading this blag and wondering, probably outloud, what the fuck I was thinking.

Let's begin.

Here's the part where I mix in some inflating of narcissistic feelings. Not my own. I'm much too self-loathing to be narcissistic. Or maybe that's just what I think. I love attention. I love when gorgeous girls give me attention. Even though I know it means nothing, I mean nothing, I still like it. Why shouldn't I? I get a free pass to flirt with cute girls and it's innocent. What could be better?

I'm trying to figure out how much of that is sarcasm. Part of it is cool because...well, it is. My friends know I'm not going to rape them and the boys get all pissy (some of them) because I can make almost legitimate passes at girls that may or may not have some sort of deeply hidden, mixed up feelings for me. I don't want to ruin friendships and burn bridges, though. I'm just having fun. Mostly. I can't say I'm not a little confused. Maybe even a tiny bit worried. I think it's all for naught though.

I push things into the back of my mind instead of thinking about them, sometimes. Sometimes it's hard for me to think about not seeing the most gorgeous set of green eyes I've ever seen first thing in the morning. Maybe I have a problem. A severe case of seperation anxiety. I'm worse than the fucking dog. Sometimes, 'I'm getting better' just doesn't cut it. Not that it's not a good thing to progress. It's just hard. Internet, how would YOU feel if you lived with a truly beautiful and amazing person and you had to worry about loosing that person? Yeah, you wouldn't like it either. It's rare to find someone so smart, so humble, so egotistical, so smarmy, so caring, so funny, and so gorgeous. It makes me want to be a better person because I am not one that deserves such a person. I am not a person that deserves close friends that I can rely on. But, by the grace of god, I have them. And I will do right by them.

I know that I have more to say, but hopefully this is sufficent enough for now. I know I'm kind of in mid thought but...I can barely keep my eyes open. In the morning, dear blag, I shall return. And by 'morning' I mean, probably around 1ish if I'm lucky. I also just realized that I have a couple of blags that are labeled as "drafts". Hmm. Must see what these are. Updates tomorrow.