Blame it on the distance!

Mood: annoyed.
Reason: same as ever.

***

Yes, I will explain myself a little better.
(Hahah and I AM utterly aware that nobody asked and that this is actually a random monologue that would be better off locked away in my heart, but...)

Okay, maybe change my mood to "bitter".

ANYWAYS, I am rambling because I wanna write about this despite how repetitive it feels and because I don't know how to start, without simply telling you to flip back to the "If I Fell" entry. Because it's about that same person and because no, I haven't even gotten past my second page in that supposedly-oh-so-powerful autobiographical romance on how a certain Mad-Hatter broke my heart even though he was a billion miles away. And I let him, that's what I did. I fucking let him! Like, I allowed myself to get all vulnerable and dreamy (though, on second thought, I'm dreamy all the time) and hence my current I-wanna-curl-up-and-watch-chick-flicks mood.

I don't make any sense, I know.

What triggered this step back into that place, one might ask? The answer's obvious. Somebody else. Who's also far away (again, not even in the same coutry, though at least this one's in the same continent - I swear it's the accent haha, I'm a sucker for that kinda thing). If I get all Freudian on myself, I can easily point out the reason for my thing for foreigners: when they're far away, I'm allowed to idealize them and to blind myself to the flaws. I'm allowed to fantasize at night (mmm wink wink) and turn them into whatever I want.

Okay, this might as well be the crappiest piece of thoughts EVER, I wonder (again) why, instead of typing them and posting them on the fucking INTERNET for christ's sake, I didn't just let them linger in my heart.

Mr.Shrimp (hahah, fake name fake name) would wisely advise me: "Stop thinking about those losers. Jump into your current hippie-guy's car and go pole-dancing in weed-world. (Pause). On second thought, you and I can do a lot more than that - I guarantee you won't regret it".

Thank whoever's Up There for Mr.Shrimp. And the rest of the suckers who've been rocking the boat with me.
And before this post turns into a bigger disaster, I'll leave off with a Neil Gaiman quote:

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

*