Emotional bullshit. Pfft, run while you still can!

Huh. Incidentally, I have a folder full of word documents called, "Emotional bullshit". Such a fitting name. I tend to refer all things refered to as emotions or relating to emotions as bullshit. Not out loud, obviously, but on paper.

But seriously, I'm going all emotional right now, and I can't be verily fucked to say this elsewhere. I'm avoiding my email - sorry if you've emailed me, I've just got an extremely pressing email from a dear friend that I'm avoiding because fuck it, everytime I talk to her, I just feel so fucking guilty - which means I'm not telling the one person I probably should/shouldn't about this emotional bullshit I'm about to shoulder into cyberspace. Hah. So I'm posting it up here, for the entire goddamn world to see, and all my friends to read. -though parts of me, warring parts of me, sincerely hope that someone takes the time to read this, while other parts are hoping that my dear friends never read this and some random reads it, preferebly from another country, and strikes up a conversation with me.

For you see, my dears:

I am lonely.

Oh, yes, me. So very, very lonely, and not about it just being me and the dog for a few days soaking in the serenity. It's not that kind of loneliness. I relish in solitude. Especially right now. Then again, the sort of loneliness I think people feel at being on their own temporarily is more a fear rather than loneliness... but then I suppose what I'm feeling is a sort of fear as well?


Huh. I'm not making much sense. Pfft, can you blame me? Yesterday I had a very indepth conversation with a patch of air about my mental state with a cup of strong lemon and ginger tea. It was so strong that I used my fingers to drink it, dipping them in the cup and sucking on them to catch the drips. Oh yes, you wish I was kidding. I perfectly fit the image of a tortured artist, yet I have next to no talent, and nothing to be tortured over.


Patch of Air and I discussed much, but I kept reiterating the fact that I didn't expect anyone to respond, and that due to this fact, I had not lost my mind. Hah. Does hoping count as expecting, I wonder?


Oh, there I go again. Glancing at that patch of air. I like to call him (yes, I think if there were to be someone there, it would be a him) the Man in the Tree. But mostly just 'you'. Man in the Tree, you ask? When I go walking, I fancy that there is someone, a wise man, about mid thirties in age with a light stubble and a cheeky grin, watching down on me from the treetops. Though, in my story, the Man in the Tree only looked down once it was too late... Ah, in anycase, if there was anyone I'd want to talk to, discuss nothings with, it would be the Man in the Tree. Therefore he has become my name for the Patch of Air.


Oh! But don't fret - I don't actually see anyone there. Never have, never will. I'm not that crazy. Just lonely. Of course, there is another face that I'd fancy would materialise. This one stemms from not just my loneliness, but my utter... need to be held as well. It's pitiful! So, of course, this person is younger, and is someone I just... fit with. You know? The sort of person with whom words don't need to be spoken.


Again, warring sides of me on the matter of love. I mean, on one side of it, I want nothing more in life to be enfolded in someones arms, someone who loves every inch of me for me... but I'm fucking terrified of it. More that what I'm sure is normal. I think I could be head over heels for a guy, and if they asked me out, I would say no because I'm fucking terrified of being ruled even moreso by... feelings. Wah. The story would definitely be different if it was some kind of supernatual being that could put meaning in my life, though... bring me a little adventure... And by supernatural, I mean the personification of a nation. Preferebly France. Or Italy. Though, Poland would be so much fun! Ah, or maybe Germany~


Again, mein liebling, I'm not actually seeing anything, nor do I expect any of this to actually happen... though, a Francis Bonnefoy to materialise in my kitchen to help me make dinner would be bloody fantastic...


Aha. My, my, my, did you actually read that? Really now, darlings, are you that interested in the lunacy of my mind?


Anywho, time to drink tea via osmosis again. :)


Lonely Belle.
Who is not actually insane.
But is pretty damn close.
YOLO.


P.S. I think I found some cute black heeled boots that it looked like mum as going to throw away... that would work perfectly with an outfit I've been scheming. Win? Very much so.


Alright, now I'm really leaving. Creepy thumping noise is being heard faintly, just in earshot. Though, that could just be the song... fuck me and my creepy weird taste in music! Since when does Nox Arcana make a good 'home alone at night' companion?


P.P.S. Maybe I'm not really leaving. Gah. I'm avoiding thinking about dinner. Maybe I'll just a pile of veggies and shove a pie in the microwave. Oh, but I want to make soup! I even got vegetable stock and everything! Not that I know what to do with it... -_- Considering just drinking it straight from the carton. It smells nice enough. -_-


P.P.P.S. IT'S TIME FOR TEA. <--- fuck why did I write that? Never sleeping now. (Emilie Autumn, now all I can think of is cannibalism when I think of that sentence!) *googles pictures of 2P England at mention of tea and blood*


P.P.P.P.S If you haven't seen Beek's version of 2P England, YOU NEED TO. NOW. FUCK. HE IS A LEGEND. Though, I'm more taken with 2P Canada... damnit, he's hot. >////< *currently writing selfcest of 1P Canada and 2P Canada - hey, you gotta love yourself to be loved! ;)*