(no subject)

More wounding. More drain on my heart. More
nights of me wondering why the fuck I continue
on, inflicting pain upon myself at every turn.

None of them realise the extent of what they
do to me.

Perhaps one day, I'll gain the courage to
tell them. All of them.

No cat out of its first fur ever gives anyone a straight answer

How do you know what I'm thinking? How are
the thoughts escaping my head and winding their
way to your own? Are you listening through the
light sockets again?

I'm a mass of raw, twitching nerve endings now.

Furthermore, the idea of purring and butting
my head up under the palm of someone's hand in
an effort to get attention is sounding better
and better to me.

I shall be a cat. I'll sleep for hours and hours,
like a lazy lump of flesh. I'll purr and pad
around the house in the wee hours of the night.
I'll DEMAND attention. When I want it. How I
want it. No argument shall be brooked. I'll
stretch my limbs and emit strange little noises.
Brush up against people and blink, large eyed
and focused.

I will, however, draw the line at drinking from
the toliet.

(no subject)

If you had tried to kiss me, I would have let you.