I think it's time for some copy and pasting, because I'm a lazy shit.
This is things that speak to me, made me sad or happy, or just expressed what I'm feeling in a way that I can't.

"I want to be the person that you look nice for. I want to be the person that makes you smile just by looking at you. I want to be the person you write songs and poems for. I want to be the person you wish for when you have a chance. I want to be the person invading your dreams. I want to be the person that you miss way too much. I want to be the person that you always want to talk to. I want to be the person that makes you laugh. I want the power to make your day, or break your heart. I want to be the person you regret meeting, and the person who changed everything. I want to make you feel things you’ve never felt. I want to be the person you’ve cried over, and hurt yourself for. I want to be the person you bought those shoes, or listened to that band because of. I want you to think about me, even when you don’t want to. I want you to chase me around. I want you to hate yourself for wanting me.

Basically, I want to be everything you are to me."
Rella from EB wrote this.



And this.
"I keep on telling myself I’m going to stop thinking about you so damn much. I’m not going to chase after you desperately and pathetically, or wait around for you anymore. I’m not going to stare at you across rooms filled with people, or get nervous when I’m near you. I’m not going to laugh at everything you say, or rely on you to make or break my day. I’m not going to be a fool anymore. I’m done letting you distract me from everything, and letting you disappoint me time after time. You are not my life. You are not my only hope. You are just one boy. But tell me one thing, why am I the one having to sacrifice everything just to feel normal again? Why can’t you stop being so damn cute? Why do you keep on talking to me like you care? Why do you flirt so frequently? Why do you lead me on and then push me away? It’s because of you I ever thought this would work out. You started it all the day you asked me my name. So why should I give up everything? You’re equally at fault here, and I’m not letting go of this until you do.

And maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to get over you. Maybe I like it when you smile at me, or talk to me. Maybe I like having some delusions. There’s nothing wrong with a little false hope to get a girl by. We’re all doing the best we can, and you make me feel happy. Sometimes, that’s enough, especially when you have little else."



There's something else I want to post, but that can wait until tomorrow because it's really long and confusing and I can't be fucked typing it all up right now.

I've been trying to turn all of this despair and hatred inside me into wild abandon. I thought that if I could, I could defuse their effects. Give it all a context to make it seem worthwhile. I don't know. I've been fucking around and giving myself to any old body for god knows how long and I wanted just once for it to happen in the right place and at the right time and with the right boy and it would all be cool and it would all be beautiful and it would be stronger than the effect of any drug I could take, and it would be my salvation. A way out. So I hooked up with him. It felt good, and it felt interesting, but in the end it didn't mean shit. It meant nothing.

So yeah. Big deal. People are what you want them to be, or maybe not. I guess you shut out a lot of the things you don't want to see. I wanted someone to cling to, someone to save me, so I found that in him. The real him and the boy who existed in my head were two entirely different people. I don't know how much was invented and how much was real. Maybe it doesn't even matter.

I wanted to stop being me and start being someone else's toy, but I didn't think I'd have it in me. But once someone has taken a photo of me, I'm still here. They photos will still be on the net or whatever, a record of me. A record of a time when I was young and pretty and people wanted me.

The real me doesn't even matter. The real me will be taken out of the equation. And it will probably be a lot better that way. That's really all that matter's, isn't it? Something will always exist that was once mine. Keeping a record of myself. That way at least there'll be something. One day soon I'll be old. I'll probably be dead or something. I don't know.

My whole identity is tied up in this.

This one particular song I used to listen to all the time is on the stereo. The final track from this particular album, which is kind of fitting. The singer is being taken over. She's practically ready to kill herself. All fucked up over a boy and only because he looks so good. It kills me that the lyrics of some sticky pop song can so totally reflect my exact thoughts and feelings. I mean it. It's really fucking annoying.

So many people are asking me, "why'd you do it??" & "why with him of all people?!"
This is said with disapproving eyes and shaking heads.
You really want to know why?

Because I want to give myself to as many people as possible before I'm old and ugly and nobody wants me anymore. You know, seriously, after a certain point when we're not as young as this any more, our lives will pretty much be over. There'll be nothing left. A new group of kids will come up to replace us and that will be that. Is there going to be anything left of us? No. Not even a memory. So why the fuck shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I have fun while I still can? Because there are guys out there who want me. That's power.

It's probably wrong to get so wrapped up in a person's looks, but what else is there, really? I've been thinking about what he said. About being young and good looking. Making the most of it. It doesn't last forever. It sort of made sense. He's young and pretty, I'm young and pretty (sort of), and maybe nothing really matters beyond that. I don't know. I wish I wasn't so shallow, so obsessed with looking good.

Every time he's with a girl, I'm sure he feels it slipping. When there's a younger girl frantically sucking his dick, he must look down and almost pity her - I mean because of how desperate the girl must seem. I mean. Desperate for something. An idea. Something from the past that she's trying to recapture, or at least remember. Whatever. Whenever he's with a girl I'm sure he must look at her at think, one day I'll be like that. Maybe the fear is what motivates him. Maybe under the swagger and the perfect hair and the cool shirts and the come-hither glances, there's someone who's terrified because he knows one day it's all going to end. I guess he must feel this, because I feel exactly the same way sometimes.

What this means.

It's not even the act of going down on a guy, not as such. If you break it down, analyse the act in itself, the physicality of it, it's not particularly significant. On its own, his cock in my mouth doesn't really feel like anything much, it's just a piece of meat, warm, and it tastes of sweat, salt and something else I can't quite describe, and that's it, period. In a purely physical sense it means nothing. It could be any boy's. What it means, really, is that it's his, that I can do this to him, make him feel good, that I can make him say my name in the dark. That's half of it.

The other half, I know, is when I'm sucking him off, I belong to him. I'm just here because he wants someone to make him cum. I could be nothing at all. I'm only here to suck his cock; he can do whatever he wants with me and I'll let him. That's the other half. It's this kind of submission that's so intense it's like a drug, and while I'm doing this, I feel like nothing at all, I disappear, I'm totally erased. Gone. I like that.