You gave me hyacinths first a year ago. They called me the hyacinth girl.

sensory overload.

I. YOU NEED HELP I CAN'T GIVE YOU.
II. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY. I CAN'T THINK OF WHAT TO SAY. I KNOW VERY WELL WHAT TO SAY BUT IT WOULDN'T DO SHIT. I'M SO FRUSTRATED WITH THIS.
III. FUCK OFF AND DIE.

seriously, you, i would not care if you had a complete existential breakdown and never "felt" again and leapt to your death from your girlfriend's dorm window. it'd be the best thing for you if for the rest of your life you were gonna bitch about what a "horrible person" you are. whatever happened to personal responsability? why are you "tormenting" yourself with your mistake, with what you did to me, when i'm not rubbing it in, not talking to you about it...why? scratch the question mark business, i'm not even interested.

i just cried my eyes out on the phone to lexi after i spent the morning plodding around class almost crying because i'm tired and full of conflict that i can't work out (actions/aspirations being only a layer of it). i want summer to come so i can work some shit out. so i can do some work and really think.

explode this body off me & i'll wake up tomorrow brand new.

if anybody should ask i'm going to a seminar
pieces of the moon
JOBJOBJOB
interviewinterviewinterview
sensitive heart, you're doomed from the start
(& etc)