The only time I feel alone is when I'm dating someone because that's the only time someone is suppose to know me but doesn't know me.
When I'm not dating someone, I am my person. Who, or whomever, I take the form of that night, or take the bed of even later that night, is me.
And wrong or right, it is A Perfect Person because:
there are no expectations,
there are no previous experiences,
there are no examples
of me
acting differently than I was in that night/
in those first few dates.
So you can't say nuthin'
Oh, and I don't have to answer bullshit questions like, "Are you bipolar?" Because no one asks that until they've been dating for like six months, or something, probably.
Perfect.
Now, I understand that you think straddling me will get my attention,
but babe you gotta understand,
it's not new thoughts that are distracting me, it's ancient memories.
Someone has tried this move on me before-
some girl has literally done this exact same thing where she parks her hips on either side of my pelvis in the school girl hopes of provoking the exact same response from me -
and even during that time before, I was thinking about the time before that, and the girl before that
(when I wasn't paying attention).
When I'm in a relationship I am not my own person. I am a person plus a person who is, and if not should be, a perfect person, as to better compliment the, henceforthknownas, Not A Perfect Person (myself).
The Not A Perfect Person has a lot of plans that need to go off without a hitch.
Hitches Get Stitches.
The Not A Perfect Person has a lot of sometimes contradictory, but very self-important thoughts and beliefs that need to not only be understood, realized, and agreed with, but also complimented, and encouraged.
Failure To Do So Get Stitches.
The Note A Perfect Person just needs A Perfect Person to complete them without calling out his incompleteness.
Too Much To Ask? Get Stitches.
Just Perfect.
And in the great cycle that is a socio-paths life,
I've now re-written prose that I wrote approximately a decade before,
and maybe even earlier if I had a blog then.
There is no escape from this cage that is my mind, THANK GOD.
When I'm not dating someone, I am my person. Who, or whomever, I take the form of that night, or take the bed of even later that night, is me.
And wrong or right, it is A Perfect Person because:
there are no expectations,
there are no previous experiences,
there are no examples
of me
acting differently than I was in that night/
in those first few dates.
So you can't say nuthin'
Oh, and I don't have to answer bullshit questions like, "Are you bipolar?" Because no one asks that until they've been dating for like six months, or something, probably.
Perfect.
Now, I understand that you think straddling me will get my attention,
but babe you gotta understand,
it's not new thoughts that are distracting me, it's ancient memories.
Someone has tried this move on me before-
some girl has literally done this exact same thing where she parks her hips on either side of my pelvis in the school girl hopes of provoking the exact same response
and even during that time before, I was thinking about the time before that, and the girl before that
(when I wasn't paying attention).
When I'm in a relationship I am not my own person. I am a person plus a person who is, and if not should be, a perfect person, as to better compliment the, henceforthknownas, Not A Perfect Person (myself).
The Not A Perfect Person has a lot of plans that need to go off without a hitch.
Hitches Get Stitches.
The Not A Perfect Person has a lot of sometimes contradictory, but very self-important thoughts and beliefs that need to not only be understood, realized, and agreed with, but also complimented, and encouraged.
Failure To Do So Get Stitches.
The Note A Perfect Person just needs A Perfect Person to complete them without calling out his incompleteness.
Too Much To Ask? Get Stitches.
Just Perfect.
And in the great cycle that is a socio-paths life,
I've now re-written prose that I wrote approximately a decade before,
and maybe even earlier if I had a blog then.
There is no escape from this cage that is my mind, THANK GOD.
