i can listen to colorful without cringing now. or at least, cringing too much. take that, you stubborn broken heart. i haven’t drawn a heart in ages. i wonder why. they’d be scribbled all over everything before. no more thinking about the before but. think about the now, and then if i’m upto it, maybe i’ll think of the after. afternoon naps. what would i do without them? they keep me sane and alive. and pretty too. i haven’t found a grey hair yet. this is a good sign. i’m getting dark circles again though. and squidgy lines. that isn’t a good sign. i don’t know if i believe in signs. but then, the nosepin thing is a sign. or just a case of terribly bad boogie. see, this is why i’m learning to control my temper. all those temper tantrums and saying mean things to people got me all this bad boogie. i can stop thinking about bad boogie when i’m making or having chai. chai is such a pretty color. especially in my pale blue teacup. i wish i had a tea-set. a full proper english tea-set. but in a pretty yay colour, not with pale pink roses and all that. i think id play with it all day, if only i had one. i really really want one. oh god. the teapot song. i hate the teapot song. i cant believe i just bragged about not cringing about colorful. when my stubborn broken heart is breaking all over again with just the thought of the teapot song. see, this is why i need a happy teaset. to stop my insides clenching at the idea of the teapot song. songs, songs, think about happy songs. mr brightside. for crying out loud, why was that the first song that popped into my head? that isn’t helping at all. it started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? oh, great bloody choice of a song. the killers, think about the killers. agnes and the hitman. that was a fun book. where everyone just kept getting shot and then falling into the basement. i wish i had a basement. and a gun. just think of how funny it would be to just shoot people, have them land in a basement, and then you dont have to bother about them anymore. ok no, this is dangerous talk. someone will read this and have me interrogated or institutionalized. or worse. what could be worse than that though? finding my first grey hair. that would be worse. my hair is growing really long. and im so bored and exhausted, i cant bother cutting it. i think i gave my hair too much importance before, spoilt it, so it misbehaved. now that it knows i don’t give a shit, it feels bad about torturing me all these years and has decided to give me some joy. im positive also, once i start being really truly joyful again, it’ll start driving me insane. insanity. i read somewhere or heard sometime that love is only ever based on insanity. love. someone told me the other day that the only thing worth loving are tangibles. like books. books stay but people don’t. and while i tried to be less bitter and less cynical, and i tried to argue with him, i knew he was right. when was the last time i was right? about anything?
i really need a cigarette.