The flatterer gets flattened when the eyes and ears his words are meant for come back to him chaotic and disposed of. Sometimes you think writing a fancy sounding sentence about someone will be the end to your problems when in fact, it may very well be the beginning. “I miss you’s” and “you’re beautiful’s” are taken with grains of salt as if I wrote/said the words just so I’d have something to say, or with malice as if this was all an overly dramatic way to make you miss me back(tough luck). But what I actually meant was I want to be with you so badly that the insides of my bones hurt.

This tiny keyboard will only let me type heart.

Hendrix.

P.s. This will be updated more often as I now use my phone for the internet way more than I use my laptop.

143 637.

May 16, 2006

Chin up, friends. You only live once, right? But how many times can you die? I’m a welcome mat for dirty feet and dirty hearts. I hate this compulsion to type whenever and whatever I feel. Involuntary. Much like breathing or the beating of hearts. Or the stopping of both. Sometimes I just want to drop everything. Sometimes I want to forget, but at the same time, remember and not feel. Sometimes pictures, rumors, and the clicks of these keys are all I want to be. I’m always shooting blindly and in the dark. A boy’s gotta dream though, right? But even on my best day, even if and when all the stars and planets have aligned, I still couldn’t come close to touching you. Neverend. You were wrong about subconciously missing you. I’m pretty much concious of it. I just try not to do anything stupid. But here I am yet again, doing something relatively stupid.

I’ve got precisely 143 myspace friends. Howsickeninglycute, right?

Sometimes I feel so incredibly predictable. Like the words I want to say are already in the back of your mind. Reiterated over and over until they lose what little, if any, meaning they’ve ever had. I’m surprised we’ve/it’s gone on this long. (If you can call it going on). And I keep telling myself it’s over but I hope that it is this time around because I really don’t want to keep reading journal entries and wishing that somewhere in between the lines is something secretly about me. So here we are, and if the way it’s been lately is the way it’s going to be for good, I won’t mind. But don’t worry. You’ll live on in jealous hearts and jealous eyes for years to come. At least. Sweetie, so many people would still kill to be in your shoes and sometimes it seems you’re dying from it.

Tell me what to do next.

"Do your feet hurt?"

May 5, 2006

The response:

“Hi Hendrix! Lol at first I thought this was a chain mail. Anyways…wow. You’re like..really courageous for doing this. I was actually moved by your letter and I actually love the idea of sitting on top of a building in our PJ’s eating cereal :D I didn’t know I’d create an impression on you. Is it because I wear glasses sometimes? Hahaha. You’re a really nice guy, Hendrix, and I would LOVE to eat breakfast/lunch/dinner with you….but as friends. I’m really sorry, but I’m already sorta seeing this one guy… but believe me when I say this, if I wasn’t dating the [him], I would have definitley taken my chances with you. You seem like a very fun, outgoing, genuine kind of guy.

But yeah, I’m truly sorry, Hendrix!! Don’t feel so embarrassed. You should feel proud because most guys are really scared and this message you sent me really affected me in a good way! You know, like bonus points haha. I really love it. I just hope things don’t seem awkward around us haha. For now, let’s be friends, yeah? I hope you understand. Chin up. You’ll meet another wonderful goofy girl soon. After all, who can resist your charm, eh? :)

Love, (her name here). P.S: Great pick up line hahaha.”

Just another day in the life. Gah. You’re gorgeous.