Fuck.

People still read this shit? Forget that.

Peas.

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Bad taste, man.

Now, I’m a pretty self-assured, conceited bitch. I can admit that. I can admit that from time to time, I’m pretty egotistical and narcissistic. It’s not something I’m proud of, it’s just a flaw that I’m not ignorant enough to ignore.

Which is why it’s incredibly ironic that I always tend to gravitate towards guys who I feel are too good for me. Or who I’m not good enough for. Fucking always, man. What is this shit? Yet again I find myself in a pseudo-relationship with a guy I’m paranoid will one day wake up and realize that he could do better than me, because he probably could.

I hate this.

I’m going to keep this brief because I have more important writing to do.

I just thought I’d note that I’m attracted to the talent that pours through his fingertips. How effortlessly he curves his fingers and palms his hands across the paper to produce out of charcoal the most amazing rendering of a tree I’ve ever seen. It’s like there’s a life force hiding in the creases of his knuckles, sleeping in the wrinkles of his fingertips, merely waiting to be spilled onto the brown paper laid flat in front of him. I just want to take those hands of his and lead them to grip my hips so that his life force could somehow sink into my skin and make me better. Make me more alive.

And with that said, I’m off to something better.