The last time we met (I typed/you read) I was going crazy because my first real boyfriend (No offense, Ben and Gab. You were both awesome. See you guys around!) had stopped loving me. (Asshole/dog/cat/cunt face/mofo/jerk/etc) (Yes offense, Andrew.) Being a retarded/stubborn/stupid hoe and my own worst enemy, I repeatedly told myself otherwise. And repeatedly believed those lies. It took awhile before I found myself madly in love with someone that no longer existed. In the end, I was only stuck in a fictional relationship. (An imaginary boyfriend. What's my problem?)
So I did what I had to do: Break up, break down. Drink up, fool around. (2 days in Paris) I started acting out. I stopped doing my homework. I spilled nail polish on my desk and cut (holes in my clothes) myself. I filled my social calender with people I knew I cared nothing about. Half of them, I probably didn't even like. I had my head in the clouds a lot, constantly longing to be somewhere else with someone else. My world became very small. I wanted so badly for things to be back in my own hands. This was probably the saddest I'd ever been. (Whoa. Intense dramatization much a lot many!)
I got really self conscious/uncomfortable with myself and stopped talking to a lot of people. Or everyone. I pierced my face. (My frikken face.) I ate my feelings, which frequently left me in a carbohydrate coma. (I was feeling a lot at that time.) (At least I ate cookies that were gluten free. And ice cream with organic strawberry chunks. And chocolate that was extra dark. I think?) I stopped picking up/returning phone calls. I literally fell off the face of this Earth. (HOW is that even possible, you may ask? I don't really know.) On most days, I was consumed by feelings of regret and bitterness (the past). It was an unhealthy obsession and I was constantly on the run. I became addicted to changing the url of my blog and making new spaces on the Internet every 3 days. To date I have registered 7 blogs and 3 tumblrs under my name. I'd write a post, then rewrite it. Rewrite it again, then delete it a couple of days later. (Lame.)
(Ok. My friends will probably say that I have a track record of displaying this sort of whack/anti- social/irrational/retarded/creepy behaviour. Or that this is typical of me/"So Justine", or whatever. Just ignore them. Yea.... Whatever, friends of Justine. Whatever. \m/)
This carried on into my 3rd term in college. As well as my 4th. I threw rocks at and made fun of the fat kids on campus. I soon became The Motherbitch/The Most Hated Girl of 2009. No. I'm kidding. I dunno. Whatever. I'd sleep during lectures. Or not attend them at all. I'd scream and shout at my teachers and flip them the bird (_|_) whenever I got sent out of the classroom. Ha ha ha shut up, I'm kidding. Thank God/my Math tutors/everyone else, I passed my exams. (My ass is getting promoted. Yeeha!)
One morning, I woke up. (As usual.) I decided to rejoin the world. I warmed up to the idea of making magic eyes at random guys and squeezing their butts. I channeled a lot of my time and energy into taking extra precautions to avoid anything/anyone that could possibly contain traces of Andrew (eg: brothels, Boys' Town, drunk girls, etc). It was tiring and a lot of hard work, but I had him erased/deleted/destroyed from my mind soon enough. Life is short. And so was his penis. We deserve the best. I only allowed myself to think positive thoughts. (Not HIV positive/ex boyfriend thoughts. Just good vibe thoughts.)
Ok, I've gotten a bit bored of making fun of my ex boyfriend so bla bla bla it's the middle of October now. Bla bla bla bla bla I fall ridiculously in love with a boy who lives a 20 second brisk walk away from me. Bla bla bla I'm hesitant at first because my previous relationship left me traumatized and hopeless but bla bla bla knight in shining armor bla bla bla bla so cute bla crazy in love bla bla bla bla bla bla bla hi baby.
Yea. Yup. That's it basically.
Got to get into the shower now because I'm off to see an American director who graduated from NYU with 500+ friends on Facebook, who is also a member of a poetry club. (I owe you guys an elaboration and explanation.) He's got cute curly locks and blue eyes. Sarah did extensive risk assessment on his ass and concluded that he is Safe. Ha ha ha. If this space is not updated tomorrow, please call the police.
