|Subject||Wrath? Why is it...|
|DateCreated||12/27/2006 7:03:00 PM|
|PostedDate||1/8/2007 5:08:00 PM|
|Body||that you think of me, you talk to me, but I think of her?
You were going to call, but I called first?
I thought you would fall asleep, but you were talking to her. You wouldn't forget, I know that. Or would you?
Why does it bug me? Why do I hate her so much?
You talk about me, about wanting to run your fingers through my hair, and how you can't because I always wear it up.
And the only image that comes to my mind is you runninng your fingers through her hair. Did you do that a lot, when you two were together? When you kissed her? Why is that all I could think about?
You want to run your fingers through my hair, but why? Is it because you miss being able to do that like you could with her? Why is that all I can think about?
I've never felt so much wrath before. I want it to go away. I hate it, I hate it so much. I hate her so much.
-And the time you called me by her name...
-And on your purevolume account you put her name before mine. What the hell is that?
-Her pictures are on the wall, the wall in your room. A part of me wants them gone, a part of me wants you gone, a part of me wants me gone, and a part hopes that you never get the pleasure of having pictures of me to put up on the wall because you already fucking have hers. That wall haunts me, I hate it. I hope I never have to lay in bed with you when the lights are on, it's hard enough to do in the dark, thinking about all those photos on your wall.
-Maybe it isn't her, maybe it's just you, maybe it's just me. What is it?
I never thought art galleries coudl make me so mad.
Why does it never end? I hope she hates me too, I wouldn't feel so bad then.