they should tell us we dont need to fit into every little thing they want us to. what's up with the yellow paper? "write me a paragraph, bitch, i control you." "no...no you dont." i dont know what i call nonsense because i say it too much, but i know there is nonsense that i can find. your lips, they tell me different stories. my lips, they give away everything that is me. everything about you, or her, or me, or him, just paints a portrait. what am i saying? it's what he says, and i'm sure it's true. you demote me, i'll demote you. you're jealous, i'm jealous. it's neverending. i'm this way. why? i'm not sure, it's just who i am. "how long are you going to sit there?" when i can't think. when i can't stand being in the same attitude for too long i have to spread my wings and drive recklessly. but this time i do it alone. i rest my head on my left hand and drife aimlessly. wandering the streets blasting my new CD that you made for me. i'm slowly learning the songs. one by one they're getting stuck in my head. i'm wishing he didnt play pretend. i'm wishing that when that boy sits next to me and cuddles it means something more than just comfort. we don't cuddle, me and you, but i don't ever see us cuddling. it doesn't seem our nature to cuddle. i don't mind. i'm not the cuddling type. why does everyone have to sift around? everyone nudging and whispering things that "they've heard." "tell me more about it amanda" "fuck off" i'm not a mean person, i'm just harsh. yes, there is a difference. i'd tell you, but then i'd have to kill you. you see, i really like sitting here, letting the heat blast itself into me. i feel this seeping acid sliding up and down my throat and it feels horrible. but i still like this. sitting. thinking. i have nothing and everything to worry about. what is real, isnt. and what will never be, is. when i think about it for too long i start to notice i'm biting my tongue. it's nothing special, it's just something i notice. i used to think you were somewhat like him, that one kid. that boy that just wont seem to stop "loving" me, because i just seem to be this "awesome" person (people dont make sense). it's just what i said, when i was in the car with him and he gave me that look that made me never want to be a lone with him again. when you panicked in the car, you kind of reminded me of that, but not all the way. but you see, you're not like that. you're not like that because i can hang out with you and be ok. you came over on new years with no one home and it was ok. if he came over i'd be creeped out because somewhere within those innocent (hazel?) eyes is this fucked up monster. not a "little monster" with spikey teeth, no. this monster that wont be released unless he feels like actually bringing a gun, in which case you'll be shot in the leg. and i'll get away, because you said so. so dont be an asshole. -Amanda