I hope you do in fact call me late at night or in the early hours this morning, as it is now quite unlikely that i shall be sleeping.

I am pretty sure you are the best friend I have ever had.

I am closer to eighteen than seventeen, nearly an adult.
And I still need to be told to go to bed. It is 1 am. I am trying to tell myself, it isn't going well.

Sometimes I read/think/hear/see my own name and feel incredibly distant from myself all of a sudden, like when you are talking to someone and turn around to realise they aren't there, and have not been for several minutes/sentences/confessions. Or like when you have rested your hand on your leg in the same place for a long time and forget it is there, to look down at it, see it, not feel it, and freak out a little on the inside. Like when you are holding up your weight by a rope and someone swiftly chops it with a cheese knife. Like when you forget the reality of your own existence.

Sometimes I think too much.

When I press 'poke' on facebook, I feel like I am standing next to you, poking your arm repeatedly and saying 'hey, hey you. I am still here. You are still a liar and I am still here to see through it. hey, I'm still here for you. Don't suffer alone, I'm right here worrying about you, wanting you to call.'

Its not that I want you to need help, but I know you already do. I want you to admit that you need it, and ask for it. As much as I would like to, I can't just call you up at all hours of the night to check if you happen to be having a dark moment.

And trust me, it is getting hard to stop myself...





/poke

The little bits of your lives I can gather from your blogs give me a window into the ways we will all explode.

I just noticed that even though 'you' doesn't just mean you, almost of the of the ones with that label are about you. I need something else to worry about.

I leave your facebook chat open when you leave, because I need to know when you are there.
I need to know you are OK, because when I don't see you for a certain amount of time, I get so worried I feel sick.

I'd fight anyone and anything to save you.
Including you.

Sometimes I can hardly breathe for the fear of myself.

I am so worried about you I feel sick.

I don't want you to go back to her, and I don't know why.

I think 'Miserable at best' is a little pathetic. The song as a whole, not so bad, but that one line...
I mean, where is the hope in that? The strength, independence, will to live and will to be happy? Certainly its musically beautiful, and this is definitely not an attack on any particular person or anything like that, I just worry about my generation as a whole.
How many people listen to this and resign themselves to sadness?
How many people listen to this and decide they can't be alone and be happy?

And truthfully, these thoughts make me wonder if I am meant to be alone forever. Even if I am, not the end of the world, but part of me will always wish for a husband and family...

I am running out of reasons to keep going.

I cannot be trusted with small pieces of paper.

The irony is killing me.

I don't know that our friendship will ever stop being hard work, but somewhere back there, I decided it was worth it.

The little things you forget, kill me.

I think you are my real best friend. This seemed a little weird at first, but of course it makes sense. We've been through and worked through so, so much. I think ours is actually one of the most open friendships I have, it has had to be. You are the one who notices me sitting alone with my head in my hands, you are the one who texts me when I'm sick, the list goes on. Basically, you are the one who remembers to give a damn out of the people I actually see day to day, and I hope that that's a two way thing.
But it's funny, I never ever thought we'd even get back to where we were before, let alone closer, more secure friends. And I never thought I'd be questioning the things I am questioning right now...

I never thought I'd be this person.

there are songs I still cannot listen to

I don’t love you I'm just passing the time, you could love me if I knew how to lie...
But who could love me? I am out of my mind...
Throwing a line out to sea to see if I can catch a dream...

sometimes I feel like getting out all of my chickflicks and watching only the painful bits, stopping Love Actually before all the happy endings unravel, stopping Two Weeks Notice at the point where she lets him walk away, stopping Sliding Doors at the point where she's dead, skipping through Jane Austen Book Club to all the angsty bits and leaving out the closure scenes. stopping Notting Hill when she asks him to love her and he says no.
Soak myself in indecision, pain, betrayal, bitterness and tears.

But I am at the point where exhaustion and emotional agony are just happily getting each other confused, just like hunger and boredom, victory and guilt. And I know I have it easy, which makes it feel all the worse.

And I am completely aware of how unbelievably self-centred and self-destructive this all is. And it makes utterly no difference to my behaviour, a lifelong pattern in which thinking and doing have either come together or failed to come together'  and truthfully, it makes absolutely no difference which.

I am watching the Sex in the City movie, and I am enjoying it.

'Hey There Delilah' makes me cry

sometimes I can't help but daydream about what would happen if I did or didn't turn my steering wheel.

I once drank Vaseline intensive care from the bottle because i was mostly asleep and i thought it was water.

Last night it was peanut butter. This is very much preferable.

the heart is a cannibal <3

I am oddly fascinated by glass.

I feel as though I miss somebody I haven't met yet.

I am a little worried now, because the list of things unsaid is growing shorter. As for the one on the end, its the only that still bothers me and part of me hopes it might bother you too.

I want justice for everyone but me.

I have a rather unhealthy love for plastic cheese and tinned spaghetti.

I have forgotten how to be a good sister.
And I am really, truly sorry.

I never could resist a ticking clock.

I don't actually think you look like edward cullen

I wasn't that sick when I went home and I felt a bit guilty because a significant reason for my going home was to avoid music home work. I am now even more sick. I feel maybe like I am subconsciously punishing myself...

I care more about my play counts than I do your opinion.

...

I am never 100% certain of whether I think I will make it or not.