I’ve been avoiding phone calls and still people call me, because they are worried. All feel I might need someone to talk to and stuff. You people are wonderful and I know that. I’m not someone who needs to talk about my things. I do not feel better afterwards, I feel worse. This is why I think sympathy is simply WRONG. No one feels the way you do. Get me. I tell one or two people at the most, but that’s it and even they understand it the way I don’t want them to understand – the rest is just writing for my own self (in other words telling everyone if you like to put it this way). If you can relate, good, but at the end of the day it doesn’t make any sense, neither to you nor to me.
There are at least two of my friends who are too good to be my friends and it’s starting to piss me off so much that I’d love to slap them. I can’t deal with hearts that know nothing but purity. It’s because I know that I won’t be able to help them whenever they’ll need me. They want you to help them stay pure for good. They lack of the experience that I have already dealt with. That is because they are doing EVERYTHING to avoid those experiences simply because they are fucking scared. They can’t even watch violence in movies. Make them watch “Ichi The Killer” and they’d beg for mercy! All I can say is: Don’t be boring. People don’t deserve your goodness. And sometimes they don’t want it.
Very often people ask me how I write all these things I do on facebook and twitter. Once you’ve decided to be honest with yourself and everyone around you, it works just like that. If you think too hard about something, your words usually come out empty. Then you’re a boring intellectual. My attention span is very low right now, so I put everything in just one or two sentence(s). That’s enough.
On a day like today (Sunday) where I can relax, I am allowed to let myself feel tired and take a nap. The moment before I fall asleep I hear hundreds of voices in my head. I don’t know where they’re from or what they want, except for taking part in my dream exhibition. Still I appreciate Sundays. Since my mind and body are so used to work, they are always prepared to “work” and when they realize that I am not working, but sitting and reading, my body decides to make me tired in order for me to catch up with some sleep. Now and then my body is good to me. Not always.
Two of my male friends I haven’t met for a while said to me “Oh my God, Paula! You’ve lost bust!” Yeah, what a tragedy. Thanks body.

I only want one thing right now: A hug, my arms around his neck and his arms around my waist. And just feel his warm breath against my ear. That’s all. He has beautiful blue eyes which I first mistook for brown and a streak of grey hair.

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