Obsessions

I stopped being bulimic yesterday... So why am I still making myself throw up?

I thought I saw you and then I saw him. He drove off since for today it's confirmed, I'm safe. I think he knows there's no point in questioning when one knows the answer will either be a lie or extremely painful for both parties to accept. So we've mutually agreed to not ask, just relent. Amazingly R is really the best person at this, and he's not even my R. I feel like I've known him forever tho. He's like a father I've always wanted. So with him it's easy, calm, so comfortable. For the rest, I've to pls ask not to ask. Don't. Lying isn't all the fun that they make it out to be.

I secretly liked the song Genie in a Bottle by Aguilera but could never let on because it was trashy pop stuff without a hint of intellectual sensibility - so said the older folks whom I interact with. The women hated it because of all the skin revealed in that vid and the men hated that they just couldn't stop looking and would receive dagger stares from their female counterparts, questioning their 'refined' tastes. Eff them. I like my puerile fun once in a while - plus, I was of age too, I should be allowed!

And it's quite a good thought exercise too, to strategise/maximise one's wishes when given any three. As a baby I wondered why none of the great wrtings ever mentioned 'ask for an endless number of wish' the first time they get a go at it - so the genie could be free too. Or why none asked for another magic lamp the moment they make their first wish too =X

Nevertheless, first real wish I'd ask > to have the ability to control time, so that I could go hide in caves... or on top of trees... to reflect/restrategize the predicaments/challenges/emotions taht I'm experiencing before facing off with the Big Boss, even if the boss is a rather docile idealist who could be under a bicameral spell and just following the orders from the voices in his head. But see, I can never know, he might just be the Hyde who had locked Dr Jekyll for good in the old armoire at the basement workshop, waiting to be sent to the incinerator.

The ability to manipulate time might also mean I could push forward rewind events and make decisions based on my perfect vision of hindsight. I'd learn that there would be a Silver lining in all of these, too.... and perhaps just let things run its course. To ferment, to boil over, to turn on the ignition and let things throttle into an explosion. To let it fuck off and die [in someone's arms, before it kills me: they all seek to spill me still.]

There you go. Genie in a Bottle can be stimulating for the mind if one allows it, albeit it convolutes things in the process as well. Just pls don't go on tangents how'd you hate rubbing the bloody bottle and can we please reconfigure to have a touch-screen voice-activated interactive interface that it location-aware instead. I may just want to reconfigure your mouth with the Swiss Army tool I carry around in my makeup purse.

Whenever I wish on 11:11, I wish to be thin.

You. You're the obsession. It's not my style.

I want to, but i really can't believe it was an accident.

I have a boyfriend, he's wonderful and amazing, and a great kisser, but I find myself spending more time with his roommate than him at church gatherings. I find myself laughing and trying so hard to get him to laugh and smile. My day brightens when I'm with my boyfriend, but I feel like my day is made when I make his roommate smile.
I find myself being concerned about his diet and if he's okay and his general well being. I find myself wanting to hug him and telling him I love him, but I don't love him. I just want to mother him.
They are both older than me, but atleast 5 years, but I have the urge to mother my boyfriend's roommate.
Is it weird or am I just being very motherly because I want children and am scared I will never be able to?

I have finally come to terms with the fact that I am in love, scratch that, obsessed with Mcfly. Those boys are so good looking. I'm so obsessed, I've started to get depressed and recently thoughts of suicide have been popping into my head. I try to stay positive but its hard.

We forget, as much as we have the faculty to remember. Words, and frighteningly sounds, have all disappeared now. I'm left with snatches of images - the bending road, her golden skin, our burning house.

The pictures he posted in there.

All your fiction... is amusing. But it seems as though you're just trampling at our collective memories like it is your personal spittoon. Fuck you.

I'm hungry but I'm too lazy assed to move to the kitchen.
That, and I bleed a bit more each time I move. Fuck you it's all your fault I'm afraidd to call for help. Fuck off and dieeeeee