no more calling like a crow for a boy; for a body in the garden.

I'm running out of boy options alarmingly fast.
A desperate girl makes desperate attempts and comes to find there is nothing sweet about desperation.
Its time to stop trying to be cool. To stop being funny.
Im not going to care. Not past tonight.

This is my letter to myself that everything you do in that moment is the right thing to do.
There is never the wrong thing to say.
Never regret anything you put forth.
Because at that time you knew that bit of honesty was what you needed to share.
And though it might not have been received how you thought, you are never wrong when you put forth the truth.

Investigate but don't invest.

woops I thought this was going to be something then it wasn't.
ha. surprise surprise.
I must not love you truly because in the time you've been gone I've been excited for two other boys entirely.
You've only been gone two days.

I can feel the muscles in my face twitch as I write this. My reflection is one of disgust.
I am disgusted with myself.
Because I am destined for greatness. And greatness is not achieved by lying on the floor being broken.

Greatness is achieved by those who bleed themselves dry chasing it down. Tomorrow I start the chase again.

I remember being happy like never before in Providence. I'm trying to bring that back to me.
It starts with slaying my vices.
It starts with no more boy chasing.
No more waiting for texts or messages or smiles or flirty glances.
It starts with no more drinking alone.
It starts with not getting so fucking excited over every little thing a boy does to show some ounce of affection.
Fuck all of you and your ounces.
I need gallons of love and if you won't give it, you won't get a drop out of me.

No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world.