there are things i want to say but can't. i don't believe in going public with my pain, but excuse me now, because it makes it all a little bit better, especially if it's exactly the kind of cryptic that makes it seem like all i want is for somebody to notice and care and make me feel better. because, yeah, that's what i want. and i'm not even good at doing this angst thing. it's so unfamiliar. and so what if i'm angry? it's my fucking blog, i have the right to say anything i like here, and i needn't feel bad about being angsty because i'm never angsty. i actually for once empathise with people who go all cryptic-angst on their blogs. there is some purpose. although i can't understand cryptic angst being the sole content of one's life, because one evening is more than enough for me. pitiful, really.

but it's only myself that i'm telling to fuck off. really. the world's been perfectly nice to me, and there is no sarcasm in that statement (and that wasn't sarcastic either, i swear, why don't you believe me?) it's just all peaches and cream. but i feel like shit. i don't want this week to be over. i don't want to have time to think.

nobody's ever as happy as they seem. some people should understand that better than most, and yet.