White noise.
January 10, 2010
Drinking: Casillero del Diablo 2008 Malbec
Listening to: Slutty pop music
I never write when I’m pissed off. It’s usually more of a contemplative, sad sort of mood. Today, it’s like someone set me on fire, and I’m just so lit.
A week passes and no phone call? Seriously? A week? I’m not someone you fuck for four days out of the month, only to get to retreat to your comfortable isolation in between. I still think of you in between, but every day that passes, I wish I did less and less, and I’m starting to. I care about your day-to-day mundane existence. Why don’t you care about mine? Why won’t you let me in? Why did you ever tell me you love me? Was it just what you sensed I wanted needed to hear so I wouldn’t walk away?
I’m feeling so insolent, so on fire. I feel so spiteful, and so alive with anger. I have so much to ask you, but it’s just white noise and I’m yelling into a cave. I hear nothing without saying it first. I get nothing without giving it first. Je suis un fou.
The white noise is what i dislike about my own relationship so much. I like to be really close with my mate, and it so hard for me to understand the need for so much space. It’s hard for me not to over analyze it.