A Fiery Throng Of Muted Angels

Giving love but getting nothing back…

I think that song is rather beautiful. I’m listening to the Birdy version, of course, instead of the original Cherry Ghost version, but I shall probably check that one out too. I also have a dog cuddled tightly to my chest.

Terrible picture, but there you go.

I am so tired this week. The two weeks Easter holidays have not allowed me to rest up at all. In fact, they were more stressful than being at work.

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My Heroine Pretend

I think it’s funny how people come to view you if they haven’t really looked to see behind the surface world. Recently an old friend told me that he thought I’d hated him and the other boys that were in our friend group.

Maybe it seemed that way to them because I was a prickly, defensive thing (I still am when I want to be), but they have to admit they made fun of me quite a bit. All I was doing was reacting to that in my own way – protecting myself. I always have done. I’ve always had reason to.

It wasn’t anything to do with hating them. I never had reason to hate them.

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Crimson Sheets

I don’t like people often.

What I mean to say is… I don’t like guys often.

There’s the occasional fleeting crush that I know won’t work out and that I wouldn’t want to work out. They don’t bother me. They’re usually just a silly giddy feeling that I’m never going to act on.

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Late Night & Waking

I hate waking after a night out. The light hitting my eyes is filled with self-loathing and defeat, a thousand pains and what-ifs and whys. I hate waking to find my bed empty because you’re not there after dreams where we’re talking. We reminisce.

I hate waking with the wish that I hadn’t left the house, ruined myself with alcohol and guilt. But why do I feel guilty when you’re the one who did it? This guilt that I feel when every guy hits on me or people try to get me to let some nice fella buy me a drink or take me home. This horrible, revolting guilt… like I’m being unfaithful to you. And I never was.

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