Saturday, 1 November 2008
07:46:20 AM (GMT)
I never thought that Halloween could be the worst day of my life.
Then again, I never thought I'd see you at that party.
Oh, don't get me wrong, it wasn't you that made it so bad.
It was that hideous creator hanging on your arm, laughing, giggling, smiling at you.
It disgusted me.
I saw her in the bathroom with her friends when we were putting on our makeup.
Yeah, we talked.
No, I didn't kill her... though I wish I had.
I asked her if she liked you.
She didn't answer.
I screamed, "You do!"
Yes, I smiled like it was just a girl talk.
Yes, I hid the way I felt.
I do that pretty well, don't I?
I mean, I must have hid the fact that I liked you pretty well since you failed to
notice it, right?
That was the last thing I said to her.
I just needed to know.
I just needed to hear it from the whore herself.
You two are together.
Isn't that just fantastic?
Yes, I'll act like it's fine.
No, I won't interfere.
Because unlike some boy-stealing bitches out there, I don't like to play dirty and
By the end of the party, I was ready to break.
I was ready to cut.
I was ready to die.
But I didn't, because I'm good at hiding things, remember?
Is it my fault?
Did I not bat my eyes enough?
Did I not laugh at enough of your jokes?
Was I too good at putting on masks to hide my blushing?
And all this time I thought I was making it pretty obvious.
Either I'm too good at lying to myself and everyone around me.
Or you're just a blind idiot.
But I love you too much to agree with the last thought so I'll just blame it on me.
I stay up even later at night blaming all of this on myself.
I'll blame it on myself that you're not calling me to tell me goodnight.
I'll blame it on myself that you're not taking me out to movies and dinner.
I'll blame it on myself that all those sweet words you say aren't to me.
And y'know, it wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't paraded around the party,
Pressing your foreheads together in front of me.
I was so ready to not only strangle you for the horror you were putting me through
but that slutty bitch that was just dying to kiss you.
I was ready to pounce on her --forget all the sense of the human race, forget all the
logical and polite ways to deal with it, forget everything I was taught at
'behavioral school'-- and scratch her eyes out for looking at you, cut her hands off
for touching you, rip her tongue out for talking to you, and pull out all of her
hair... just for me. :]]]]
But I didn't, because I'm so fucking good at hiding from feelings.
I wouldn't kill her, I'm better than that.
But you wouldn't know how good I am, would you?
Because you don't give a rats ass about me.
All you give a shit about is that boy-stealing, man-stalking, male-chasing whore!
Hope your relationship is full of laughs.
Because I'll be stuck here, crying.