I'm the one who lives in sandcastles

Att blogga är inte direkt någonting jag är bra på. Det beror nog på att mitt liv är lika interessant som att se färgen torka när man målar garaget. Nej, mycket att säga har jag inte, iallafall inte om något relevant. Dock har jag aldrig kunnat slita mig från bloggande sedan den där dagen då man skaffade lunarstorm för hundra år sedan. Att skriva en halv sida om SFS (min egenhändigt påhittade synonym till Svensk Författningssamling för Rättskunskap-provet) ÄR roligt. Och att läsa vad man skrivit ett år senare är ännu roligare.

Roligt 2005.
You're my bag of potato chips! *sparkle sparkle sparkle* par Marinka.

Men vad ska jag skriva om idag? Jag har varit hemma och varit sjuk, dvs bara tittat på TV. Var hos skolsköterskan också, slöseri med min mest. Så jag har inte gjort någonting alls på hela dagen egentligen, bara varit här. Det blir ju lite trist att skriva då, liksom, idag har jag suttit och suttit. Iallafall hde jag tråkigt och började skriva på en grej till skolan. Vet inte om det blir att jag lämnar den eller om jag skriver något annat, antagligen blir det något annat. Jag vill att min writer's block ska försvinna, den är tröttsam.

"Is she beautiful?"
"Yes."
"More so than me?"
"I guess..."

"I really thought I just hit rock bottom. But today, it's like there's rock bottom, then 50 feet of crap, then me." My ex boyfriend smiles at my statement, he's always been more or less amused by what he calls "my twisted sense of humor". But what he calls a sense of humor, I refer to as reality. It comes out as a joke but it's really my feelings, encrypted into words that don't hurt as deeply as my thoughts. And I let him smile because I've never been the confrontational type, and because I still love him, more than I've ever loved a person before.
"You'll be fine" he assures me, giving me a slight pat on the shoulder. It takes all the strength I've got not to flinch under his touch. I know he means well, but can't he see that merely the touch of his skin makes it all come back to me? The pain is so sharp, so sudden, and I can't help but feel surprised, cause his hand on my skin used to make everything a little bit better. It's never hurt before. I swallow, but when I speak up my voice is still shaky.
"Remember the night you came to my doorstep..?" I manage to say, referring to the time that I drove home crying. The night that I just wanted the world to go away, that I begged him to cancel Christmas because even thinking of gathering with friends and family made me sick to my stomach. I bring it up because I remember what almost happened that night, what would have happened if he hadn't come.

"Yeah.. You meant a lot to me."

Meant..? The reply gets stuck in my throat, along with the tears that I refuse to cry. I swallow again, nod my head and rise. It's time for him to leave. He understands, and as we both stand in the narrow hallway, I can smell his cologne, and if I was taller I know I would have felt his breath against my face.
"I hope for your sake that you don't wake up as broken as I am" I say softly as I look into his eyes, a single tear falling down my cheek. I don't hear the sound of the door closing behind him over my own heartbeat; "I'm breaking. I'm breaking. I'm breaking." And once again, in self defense, I won't sleep a wink to prevent dreaming of him.

Nu ska jag glo på Andra Avenyn. Den är INTE bra men jag vill tycka om Svenska program, eftersom det typ inte finns några. Svensson Svensson äger dock allt :P Och imorgon är det Gray's <3333 Jag och Ellie SKA gifta oss med krulltott :D

Godnatt :) :P