When we don't understand something, we can make it mean anything.

I think that the most meaningful things I say are to other people, not in this blog. As it turns out, I'm pretty bad at just randomly expressing myself. I've got to be inspired somehow, which is natural, but it usually only happens, for me, in conversations. And like, umm, I guess I kind of suck.

I'm sorry I underestimated how much you care about me, you're just not really amazing at showing that you do. And I'm sorry that I get worked up over things that don't mean shit to you. And I'm sorry you don't love me. I just, uh, ah, I don't know, thought you might. Guess I was.. mistaken? (I am human, after all. I hate admitting I'm wrong.) I just assumed that your silence meant you did. Love me. I mean.

I just hate how you don't understand me like I understand you. And I hate how you call Chuck Palahniuk "cheesy." And I hate how when I try to drop hints, or even flat out tell you, it goes over your head. I hate saying "nevermind." And sometimes, definitely not as much as I used to, I hate myself. I think that self-loathing is something I'll never really grow out of.

Now.. This is all in speculation, but I think that it would be better if I would. But in return, not grow out of things like hope, and trust. Unfortunately, things are reversed, and that's how life is. Or at least, that's my perception.

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I don't remember where I was going with this.

Whatever.

I'm tired.

But I can't sleep.
Glorious.