Not that I'm this raging horoscope planning person. I will so read that shit though.
Then, read my devotional for the day. Or 2. And send them to you.
You know alot about me, don't you? The Dorothy side. The Wicked Witch of the West side.
It's ok. I just died in the middle of the street. The street sweeper will come through soon. What? They get paid to do it. Might as well let the man do his job.
Usually, if you talk like you know what people are asking questions about, they seem to believe you.
Who doesn't love Eric Stoltz?
This is for the ones who love to talk shit. To make themselves feel just a little bit better?
You may even read this and wonder... is this about me? It's so not. I would have told you.
Stop with the paranoia. I take time to process things. That's me. And then, I think about it.
After that, I let it crawl under my skin. During that time, I allow my emotions to run wild like a wild jungle cat. Not surprised huh? If you know me, you know this about me.
It may be one of your favorites.
This part of me, may exhaust you to the point of no return. Frazzled.
This part of me, may fascinate you so much, there's a journal under the corner of the bed about it. Yeah, it's in the top right corner. I know your superstitions.
This part of me, may be the reason we can't be friends. Or communicate. Or encourage each other.
This part of me, may stop you dead in your tracks, like a beautiful woman you see out in the sunlight.
However I effect you. Good or bad.
I do. I love every part of you. I really dig the imperfect part of you. It gives me great comfort.
Like that time I realized, hey, that person is human, and I helped you gingerly off the pedestal I had put you on. Changed me from the Beast, into the Beauty. ( Favorite story )
Remember when we joke about your jealousy? Of my life? Then, you tell me, sorry, I didn't mean that. It's cool. It's how you feel. You can't sneak out of this glass house. I think about,
just how, I've been there. And covet you, in return.
Hell, I tell my deaf dog stories. He listens. It's uncanny. Our connection. But you can't stay locked up in the house, telling the deaf dog stories all the time. How was he made so perfectly?
I had written on my other blog. The one you don't read. I haven't ever told you about it.
That all you need is love,
The grass isn't always greener on the other side,
Give up control,
Jesus loves me.
That's true. Every line. I don't know much baby, but that's gold.
I examined why you say things they way you do. You can't be like me. You couldn't even emulate it if you tried. He said, I like art. Really? Cause I love it. (snippy)
Listen, I'm trying hard to work out the kinks. Out of sheer brilliance. Method to the madness. My light shined just a little bit brighter today.
You may look over at your date, and think, I could sleep with her, but that's all.
I run past the rabbit checking his watch. He thinks that he's late? I'm month's behind.
Catching up with Alice.
I have absolutely no salt to be a snob. Cause I'm plain. No, I like that. I dig simple. If you look close enough, I still have paint in my hair. I have a feeling, that's why you like me so much.