Random thoughts

The idea of death scares me.  Someone suddenly ceases to exist, how strange is that?  It can be expected, or unexpected but still causes grief to others.   I’m young, and hopefully have a long life ahead of me, but if I were to die young, I feel that my life would have been a waste.  So I need to accomplish something important.  I want to have a life worth living.

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I think so much about you,

that there are no thoughts left for you to think about me.

 

I dream about you,

so I do not disturb your sleep.

 

I stare at you,

so that you don’t notice me.

who/what/when/where/why/how ?

please stay

I worried/I worry/I will worry

I hate this

to hug/two arms/too late

I thought there was something

I thought I was something

I thought I was someone

I thought you were someone

I think you are someone

I hope you will be someone

I love my weird nail.  You see, I have this nervous habit where I pick my nails (and cuticles), and so my nails are usually short.  However, somehow I have neglected to pick my thumb on my right hand for awhile, and now it has grown pretty long.  I love my long nail as it gives me hope, or something, and I have to act delicately with my right hand as to not chip/rack/break or otherwise damage it.

The procrastinator

It’s very easy to procrastinate,
To do things ’till it’s almost late.
To have fun I don’t hesitate,
But to do work, I will wait.

There are oh so many distractions,
creating temporary satisfactions.
They have immediate attractions,
but they are foolish actions.

Oh look, oh look, a notification,
and thus begins more procrastination.
I’d have more productivity with decapitation.

So how shall I solve solve this mess?
It’s quite bad, I must confess.
It causes me much distress.
I need to procrastinate less.

I say that I’ll do it tommorrow
The next day, same excuse I borrow.
It creates a small bit of sorrow.
But alas, I shall fix this problem today,
and then procrastinate tommorrow!

untitled feelings

reading through our old messages

feeling the highs and the lows

pretending that I’m talking to you again

 

our witty banter

and sly remarks

our innuendos

 

I told myself that I was over you

I lied

I cried

 

I want to see you again

touch you

touch me

 

no need to drink

you’re intoxicating

one sip is never enough