Gah.

The chill is unnerving, but I guess that's how it is. I keep wondering what happened, it's not even a while into this and already the coldness is starting to set in.

Your words sound so mechanical, if not at all empty. And yet I, on the one hand, serve my phrases with a generous helping of sincerity. I try to shake it off, thinking that it may just be my paranoia... But your voice echoes a hollowness through the wire, and that cannot lie.

I guess it was only a temporary madness, then.. That spine-tingling inexplicable happiness is something I am so desperately trying to bring back. Alas, your aloofness blocks me.

I can feel the apathy you've been trying to hide. I can sense the distance you're trying to put between this. It hurts like hell, and yet I remain silent - hoping against hope that this rough patch will soon fade. Somehow, I don't think it will.

Familiarity does breed contempt, after all.

Twisting on the Inside

Thank heaven for facades, otherwise I'd be done for by now.

This emotional roller coaster ride is becoming into a frickin train wreck. Dammit. I'm extremely freaked out and there's no way in hell that I'm getting out of this soon.

I just want it to stop.

If it ends, at least let me know.

It's too difficult to play psychic like that.

The Scary Amazing Part

This is insanity.

Supposedly, these little flighty butterflies in my stomach died out ages ago. And, these major thump-thumps along the ventricles of my heart shouldn't exist anymore. But nooooo... They're out here again... and I haven't even been here very long.

Ampotah.

The hilarity of it all is that I'm actually sporting a smile right about now. Craziness. What the hell is the matter with me?

Inside of it all, though, lies that incessant fear I honestly thought I'd long since buried in the frickin hatchet. All this time, I thought wrong... and it's just about ready to kill me.

God, I'm such a girl.

Why rush, why choose, why risk this thing, and ruin me and you





...But if we label this just picture what we might lose...

Heaving Sighs, Restraining Tears

I'm suspended in the air and I feel like I'm about to fall into thin ice. Great day I'm having, can't you tell?

The moment I decided not to worry too much, doubt befalls on the opposite horizon. How fucked up is that? I'm supposed to be the one running away, it's my mechanism. So I decide it's time to challenge myself to stay and keep moving forward. But the very thing I'm running towards is about to pull away, so yeah... what the hell am I supposed to do?

This really, really sucks sweaty monkey balls. Ampotah.

I'm not ready to turn the page yet, but if the other party starts the second-guessing... what's left of me to do? Should I just leave the page open in my book and let it close over there? Doesn't that sound a little unfair, if not at all pathetic?

Then again, my life was, is, and always will be an unfair paradox epitomizing defectiveness personified... so it fits right in. And so, once more, I become one whole piece of a million broken shards.

I think I'll keep hanging in the air for a few seconds more, my arms will tire out and I'll fall into the ice eventually. Prolonging the suspension is just plain procrastination - Who wants to fall without getting caught and drowning in the end anyway?

Yeah, I'll just suffer by hanging. Drowning doesn't sound too fun.