I worry that you don’t think my brain is pretty. My mind is self conscious whenever you talk to me and I just want to hide behind my rockin’ body that you clearly love. I spend every morning perfecting my neurons so each and every one will be electrically excitable throughout the day and will glow green with fluorescent protein. I comb through the strands of condons in my head and pluck at my synapses until they can no longer be plucked anymore. I want to dress my brain cells in countless seams and long streams of personality and thought. I speak colours and numbers and love words and poetry just waiting for you to stare in awe at the beauty that is trapped inside my head. I want you to see the splendor in between my ears, underneath my skull, just waiting for you to charge it to life and send neurotransmitters down my spine. I want you to get aroused when you kiss my forehead because it’s closer to my mind, closer to my thoughts. I want you to fall in love with my ideas before you fall in love with the rest of me. You’re all about the curve of my hips and the slopes of my breasts but I want to show you something that is not quite as material, because I’m sure that you can fall in love with the arcs of my mind just as you’ve fallen in love with the turns of my butt. But I just worry that when you look inside me, you won’t like what you see because you don’t think my brain is pretty.
Lots of things might happen. That’s the thing about writers. They’re unpredictable. They might bring you eggs in bed for breakfast, or they might all but ignore you for days. They might bring you eggs in bed at three in the morning. Or they might wake you up for sex…
I’m sorry if I try to push you away physically; it’s just my body’s way of telling me that I’m getting too emotionally attached. I just want to push you far far away from where I am because all this emotional stuff is just way too much for my hopeless heart to handle. I’d rather feel nothing at all than feel the million different unexplainable emotions and sensations that you’ve been making me feel the last couple of weeks. You’ve been making me feel too good and feeling this good feels so foreign, it feels so good that I’m afraid that it’ll go away, because there’s no such thing as a good thing forever, so before our fire can sizzle out, I might as well put it out myself. I know it’s horribly disastrous, killing love like this, but I don’t know any other way and I’d rather kill it than wait for it to kill me.
ok?
- Watch Pretty Woman because that movie NEVER gets old
- Read the Hunger Games, finally I can get my hands on an online copy
- Do my science exam revision…or not…perhaps I could get a friend’s review notes. LOL
- Sleep
5/3/2012 I’m going to start a new revolution. I’m going to stop eating my mom’s food and talking to my both my parents and laughing at home. I can’t wait to live alone
5/2/2012 I think I’m going to put dates on some of my posts now because I think dates are awesome and make everything look so much more authentic. Am now eating fried chicken with mayoo yum yum yum. I like my nails today. My dad’s away in KL that’s why they’re painted. As insecure as this sounds painted nails make me more confident. Today I went to school and I realized how much weight I’ve put on these past few years when my height has stayed exactly the same. I need to stop eating, because I bet if I stopped eating seconds for each meal I might actually lose some. Also, I’m currently annoyed at the human race, and I’m looking forward to after exams when I get to read Looking for Alaska in peace and go paintballin’
