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Farool
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You know that feeling you get when you go over that one hill on twenty ninth street? The butterflies in your stomach trying to tear their way out of your throat? Well, not quite like that. Sometimes you get it right when the main character dies in a movie. I'm not talking about the warm fuzzies. No, I'm talking about the gripping cold clench. When the tests are being handed back and you know you failed, and you know that when you get home you're proper fucked. You run through every possible solution. Usually you see the worst possible thing that could happen. You see that and it runs through your head. That feeling in your chest is the one that I'm talking about. You feel it when you get shot down, insulted by someone you love, lied to, when reading Night. All of that, that's when it happens. I think the best way to describe it would be a fist of ice reaching out through your stomach and squeezing your heart, but not squeezing, more of like constantly having a firm grip. When you're right about to cry. That thing that almost feels like a hiccup, but it doesn't go away. That feeling, that horrible dread, that's what it's like half the time for me. The other half of the time is the warm fuzzy feeling. I feel like I'm on cloud nine. Like the world loves me, and it'll all work out. But then it flips. It's not even very consistent in when it changes. But a lot of them have to do with you. I know that you don't like it, knowing that you have that much power, but you do. Make or break my day, it's all in your hands. You know who that sounds like? That one kid that we both emotionally fuck (unpleasant mental image). What you say can make or break his day. So naturally, because he's a malicious ass who needs to realize that there are other people in the world, you can do whatever you want with his emotions. So you make his life hell. And there's nothing wrong with that, he deserves it. You flatter him, bitch at him, ignore him, flirt with him, bitch at him, etc. And it's great. His emotional health is shattering around his feet. We give him inconsistent emotional breakdowns, he never knows what's coming. And he's so tightly wrapped around your finger. Shit, here come more similarities. I know that I'm not him. I know that you love me, I know that you rock. But I'm wrapped pretty fucking tight too. And I'm going through all of these emotional breakdowns. I feel like I'm tri-polar or something. I know that you're not doing anything to me. I know that you love me. I know that it sounds weird, but I'm in the same position as him. Love as a brick wall . . .
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051218
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