my diary said it didn't want a name
i ve just finished off an email..
i've just finished off an email to her. i'm not obsessed
with her, i've just never spoken to anyone so intelligent
in my life. well that's a lie, there was someone who came
i couldn't hold on to her, she was just a bit too
complicated for my mind to shroud in reason.
i'm so fucking corny.
this is turning out to be the next best thing to stream of
conscienceness. i love that stuff, it can be so interested.
there's a book, can't remember what its called or who its
by, but apparently, the last pages are stream of conscience
on a female orgasm - being a stoner fuck has its bad points.
the problem with this is that i know she's reading it, i'm
thinking too much. i'm choosing my words too carefully and
every latinate masterpiece using a full stop as perfection-
timed conclusion turns out to be a rambling sentence.
i'm not thinking we're meant to be or anything, please
don't get scared, its just that this is the first time i've
ever felt like i just haven't had enough brains to talk to
someone. i'm worried that you're going to end up thinking
im too dim (awwwww) ::sheepish grin:: to speak to you.
i kind of like it though. i've never known anyone to make
me think as much as you have in such a short time.
you don't seem to suffer from the same problem so you won't
have a clue what i'm on about.
anyways, i'm bored of typing and i'm wreaked. gonna go see
what that email is....
::pretends to be an academic moth... "oh... 'read'"