And LSD to your dog. Yes.

Fuck.

This isn't me, it isn't, it isn't, I'm sorry, I promise.

You know me, I'm impulsive.
That's what I love about you.

And I keep yelling at her, "You can't be ugly! Be pretty!" It's weird, like if I can transform her, I would magically change, too.

"You can't be ugly! You can't do this. If you're pretty, people will love you. If you're thin people will love you, if you're funny, if you're clever, if you're fun. People will love you!"
It's a tape on loop.
Will someone kiss me and tell me I'm pretty? Will someone let me be thin, and funny, and clever, and fun? And, I'm a vindictive little bitch, truth be told. And, I'm jealous, truth be told.
Sadly not of any one person; which would make things a whole lot easier & less confusing, pour moi at the very least. I know, I know, so badly, it's there, waiting - but he, well he broke the lock. I wish; that you'd beg me not to cry, like you do her; that I'd know what to do, that I could talk to people like her; that I was skinny; that I had someone to spark off of; that I you'd be there to hold me; that I wouldn't have to compete; that I wouldn't have to worry; that I could get up the courage to find you, instead of waiting for you to appear & depending on you, so much, to make everything better, to cure me, whatever. And have someone that I know better than anyone; when I'm feeling at the moment that I don't know anyone. Perhaps, I just want. I do.
Maybe it's 'cause I want to live something that isn't even real. I want to make someone happy, I want someone to be happy because I'm there, I need to be needed. Or like I need a purpose; and I hate the fact that it seems to be a person, that I'm waiting on. that you'd randomly tell me that you love me; that we'd make plans and run away for the day, for a week, and do things we've never done before; that i turned out how i hoped; that we'd walk in the rain, or play in the fountains in the rain; eat strawberries dipped in a chocolate fountain; play on pianos in harrods; racing ducks; picnics from markses und sparkses; being attatched to benches; watching ballets with hundreds of other people and free merchandise - next door to our fountains; being so attatched to your heartbeat and the warmth of your skin, your eyelashes
and your hands and your lips; I want to be wrapped up in you, to be someone's favourite - and I hoped I'd never say that - I want you to remember.

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending: