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Me
Your love is... by ChibiMarronchan
Your name is...
Your kiss is...breath taking
Your hugs are...gentle
Your eyes...light up a day
Your touch is...irresistable
Your smell is...exotic
Your smile is...entrancing
Your love is...unique
Quiz created with MemeGen!
Life is short
"American Idiot"
Don't wanna be an American idiot.
Don't want a nation under the new mania.
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?
The subliminal mind fuck America.

Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alienation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue.

Well maybe I'm the faggot America.
I'm not a part of a redneck agenda.
Now everybody do the propaganda.
And sing along in the age of paranoia.

Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alienation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue.

Don't wanna be an American idiot.
One nation controlled by the media.
Information age of hysteria.
It's calling out to idiot America.

Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alienation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue.
I must be a glutton for pain {and not the good kind}
Wednesday. 6.25.08 1:46 pm
I sometimes wonder ... just how much he still loves her ...

My curiosity is going to kill me one of these days. I become insanly curious about something and for some reason my mind doesn't rest until I find or figure stuff out.

The thing I'm referring to now, though, the things I think about actually make me physically sick to my stomach. I haven't thrown up or anything {I can't; not unless I'm very drunk or have a virus} but I have the strong urge to. I can't eat because I'm afraid I will actually puke. Occasionally I will force myself to eat in hopes that maybe puking would make me feel better. Either way, though, I still don't throw up.

Jake keeps asking me what's wrong and I'd love to talk about it, but how am I supposed to if even just thinking it makes me feel that sick? What am I supposed to do when/if he answers the questions when/if I finally ask?

I'm afraid of the truth ... although for all the truths that I've been afraid of before, nothing has been as bad as I had originally thought.

This one, however, he'd either lie about to spare my feelings or it would cripple me. I don't know if I'd be able to recover from the answers that he might give.

I try hard, insanly hard sometimes, to block these things from my mind, but random acts or statements will trigger them and then the sick feeling comes back. Sometimes it's because of simply not having enough to distract my mind from wandering away. Other times it's triggered by something he says. That's when it gets hard. I have to pretend I don't feel as sick as I do. I have to put on a show ...

He knows I'm not comfortable with him talking about certain things, but every once in a while something will slip and I have to put on a face, a show, so that I don't make him feel bad for something that is beyond his control. He's only human, things slip; and I'm not expecting him to be perfect or even close to it.

I just don't want him to feel bad about saying something that's on his mind or not tell me something that's on his mind for fear of upsetting me or making me feel ill.

My issue here is, I want to talk to him about these things. I want to ask him questions and I want him to be honest about the answers. But the answers he'd give me would hurt. They'd cause me a pain I would have trouble recovering from. Even with him there to comfort me ... Talking about these things is just the same as requesting or demanding the pain to be brought on.

Now, another dilema. The answers he would give me, would not be suprising. They would not catch me off guard; at least the underlying action. They'd be expected because that's how it is with most people. I don't know why it bothers me so much ...

Maybe because I'd like to know and feel and believe that I'm the only one ... It would make me feel special. I already know I'm special simply because I'm incredibly lucky enough to be with him. Ugh, now it just sounds like I'm being greedy. Wanting to feel more special than I already do? I repeat, ugh.

Why does this shit have to be complicated? And why do I have to complicate it that much farther?

I kinda wish he still read these ... maybe then he'd be able to prompt me rather than having to wait for me to build up enough courage to say anything. That might take an eternity. Something we certainly don't have.

Although, he probably knows what I'm talking about just as much as the next person who comes by and reads this.

{btw, yes there is a good kind of pain. it all depends, though, on who you talk to and how they handle it}
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