i was disappointed that i wasn't somewhere else. not an imaginary "anywhere else" kind of thing... a concrete, actual, other place to be. and it would have been really fun and cool, too. but, as usual, i just spent the evening poking around on my computer, listening to acoustic emo feel sorry for yourself crap.
i almost feel dumb for thinking that i wouldn't end up there. that is like... my home now. lonely, poopie and on the internet after 12pm.
i get these random little farts of hope just every so often enough to keep me up and giddy and functioning. like drugs, almost. but then i realize... too late... after i have already come back down from the momentary high... that it's really just hot air blowing out of my ass.
over the last few weeks i have come upon several new "he" prospects... but nothing more than cutsie little stories with no real plot (like the one posted below) has come out of them.
it's like blue balls for my romantic sappiness. if that makes any sort of sense. and to be honest.. it really IS starting to hurt.
so for the sake of not being redundant... i'm just not going to post about lonely poopiness anymore.
so uhh... don't be surprised if you don't hear from me ever again.
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