2002-06-12 ~ 8:27 a.m.

Erm. Eh?

I'm an idiot. Ok, not me. My brain. Complete idiot. Actually, I shouldn't say that my brain is an idiot.

Saboteur. Yes, that's more like it. It's a saboteur.

I've unleashed some really fucking weird psycho Vegas woman shit on BFRE for no real reason. 3 or 4 times now I've left his house or finished a phone conversation with him and thought, "Oh dear sweet jesus tap dancin' christ. What the FUCK was that?"

Then I hope to wake up from a dream so that it hadn't happened, but that never works out.

It's like I see the inclination to make him see me as aforementioned idiot, and then it's a race to see if I can cut off the neurons before they make their way to either my vocal chords or my fingertips.

We've been together for a month. ONE month. I haven't even had the decency to let psychot-babble wait until a plural form of a month.

could someone....just....squish me?

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