et puis
disclaimer: this is the life and times of meredith r. mistletoe. i'm making a slight attempt to disguise my identity and hide things that i write about and pretend i don't feel things i do. but if you read this and i don't know you read it, then you read it at your own risk. and you should let me know you're reading it... especially because a lot of the time things need clarifying or aren't quite true anymore or etc etc etc.

note: potential employers: please do not judge me on my diaryland. that's lame.


2004.11.28 #2 10:38 p.m.

second entry today.

reading over today's entry, and keeping in mind that i have banners running right now (might as well, since i lose them soon anyway), i am a boring sod these days.
this diary is a sham.
no. it is more of the outside shell which is, of course, valid. just pithless.
just surface business.

i think that generally people are constantly misjudging me. continuously deciding things that are untrue. this is bizzare.
this might be because i am growing more and more into being a character. a decided persona that i'm fond of and develop and use.
it's happened plenty that people think i'm not too bright, or that i'm completely immature, or that i'm incapable of serious interaction.
this could cause problems?

and most lately there's been people who have thought that i am most likely of being hurt, that i am most likely of being emotional (which seems strange given parts of my past).
i wish that they were proven right. i wish that i was the only one i was capable of hurting.
i could deal with that. it's been awhile since i've been really hurt. too long for sure.

it's been years since i've really thought i could fall in love.
i wonder if that organ is broken.

it scares me how detached i can make myself. how cynical and empty i feel some days. and how i'm not even really looking for someone to fill me up...

which isn't to say that i don't appreciate or care about people. but it does mean that i am not as careful with them as they deserve.

i keep making things worse.
i feel unable to stop things from coming out of me.

nothing is ever real enough.
i've said that before. but there is no consequence near enough. there is no punishment probable enough.
this is why we can smoke and speed and have un-safe sex and eat poorly and hurt each other and even kill and be killed.
and be horrid people.

all i want right now is a cigarette.

previously - and then

*oh random entry*

all the diarylands. - 2008.02.21
I move my head. - 2008.01.27
read the other one. - 2008.01.21
was Medium? - 2008-01-17
Or maybe I won't. - 2008.01.15

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