open up.

without thinking i've opened this website to splurge my thoughts somewhere and quickly. here goes.

closed book aren't fun. there's only so much time you can spend looking at the cover and reading the blurb, the boring summary that leaves out the nitty-gritty bits of the story. a bit like the people we meet and the small talk that is endured to 'suss them out'.
it gets a little tedious when you're reading the same blurb over and over again.
but i'd read my favourite book ten, twenty times over.

never particularly enjoyed mystery novels so kind of unsure as to why i'm playing a guessing game.

that's a lie, i know exactly why:

sometimes you just have to write in a blog because you're too cowardly to tell someone what you actually think. but at the same time you're still writing & pretending to yourself that inadvertently they'll know what the hell you're going on about, that it's about them, that they affected your life in this way.

i don't want to be part of 'who plays it the coolest?' or can score highest on a continuum of mindfuck. we literally cannot help ourselves. even if you think you don't, you do. whether it's delaying reading and replying to the text because you feel the other person derserves to wait or trying the 'i'm-not-bothered' tone to be 'cool'. we think it's giving the other person space and testing our 'wantedness' by the other; leting them make up their own mind if they wanna talk to you.

i do it. and i hate doing it. and i hate texting.

how about we have really intimate, intense conversations and write them to eachother in plain words and then when it appears on the screen, you'll need to denote the tone, intonation and stress of what i'm saying. it's a bloody puzzle and there's always a piece missing.

why can't we all just tell eachother what's going through our minds, truthfully. ask the questions we want answered without the fear of painting ourselves in a way we wish not to be.
there are things i want to say, that if i do i run the risk of jeorpordising something that is essentially what could be something good. i have this annoying ingrained fucking notion of inadequacy within myself, that stops me wearing my heart on my sleeve. obviously it's best to protect it and keep everything tied up inside, mouth shut, key thrown away.

(i don't really believe this, i tell myself i do).

mini-rant, i am none the clearer, i'll most probably just be called emo.

i like you. i also like you.

laters. xoxx