she smiles as she types, she smiles through the chagrin.

i know what she's saying.

i open up my inbox and there's a message with the words that harm and comfort me at the very same time.

the "i love you" the "i can't stop thinking about you"...the endless torture to my senses.

she loves me, she hates me, she can't get enough of me.

and if i were truly a narcissist, i know that i'd be deriving some sort of sick, twisted pleasure from her agonizing over me.

she wants us. "you and me". she actually wants what i wanted for so very, very long and could not have. i moved on. it wasn't healthy to cry over spilt milk, as it were.

however, something compells me to lead her toward me. something tells me that things with the new girlfriend won't happen this way. everything that i have ever dreamed of it fading into the background.

how can i be letting this happen to myself? i'm losing control of my own lovelife and i haven't even done anything.

this sucks. this more than sucks. this blows.

my former writing had been slightly more eloquent, i know, but this is visceral. this is the meat and the gravy and all of the lumps in the potatoes.

i'm in her head. i'm safely in her head. i know that i am.

but why does it have to be so very confusing?

doesn't she know that i love her? doesn't she fucking know?

-im

• in the moments before we first had sex, all i could think about was whether or not that odor was coming from her or the car.
• i used to brush my teeth 3 times after having sex with her
• sometimes i close my eyes right before i fall asleep and i can feel his hands on me. it makes me want to die.
• i sort of like being anonymous because it affords me the chance to enjoy actually being alone on this fucking rock.
• i feel ugly
• the first time i tried to commit suicide, i only failed because the phone rang...i wish he didn't call
• i like to write with a pen rather than a pencil because the first words out are usually the only true ones.
• he raped me and i don't know why
• i wish i was dead sometimes.