I hate feeling. I hate love. I hate caring. It just hurts.

And I'm a coward, to boot. A coward with a yellow stripe a mile wide and a broken heart. I can't even write anything about it.

Emotion comes from your brain, not your heart - so why does it feel like my chest is breaking into tiny pieces? Like it's being beaten black and blue on the inside?

Sorry it's been so long - this October has been interesting, to say the least.

A friend of mine committed suicide at the beginning of the month, so I've been stumbling in a daze of gotta-get-through-one-day-at-a-time, and Othello was two weeks after, and then there were auditions and midterms and life is confusing and still slogging on, somehow. I've somehow managed to get my life decently straightened out, but I'm still working on it.

Happy belated Halloween, to all.

Leave some love.

Why are songs sometimes so perfect it hurts?

I knew that I'd get like this again
That's why I try to keep at bay
Be a hundred percent when I'm with you
And then a perfect heart's length away.

The stickler is you've played not one beat wrong
You never promised me anything
Even sat me down, warned me just how they fall
I knew the odds were I'd never win, yet here I am.

It's a half life with you as my quarter back,
A daft life.

My self-worth measured in text back tempo
It's been two days and eight minutes too slow.
Well, there may well be others but I still like to pretend
I'm the one you want to grow old with.

I've got a schedule to stick to, got a world to keep sweet.
You're so much to everyone all the time,
Will it ever slow down? Will I ever come first?
The universe contracts to sigh.

It's a half life with you as my quarterback,
A daft life.
It's a half life with you as my quarterback,
A daft life.

You know you'll never be lonely, no, you'll always be loved.
And maybe you'll never need more than that,
But for the surplus that loves, what's to become of us?
Does it even register on your conscience?

Long for one last showdown from a box in a crowd
Air compressed tight to explode.
I'm clenching my ticket to the only way out
As you disappear in a puff of smoke.

It's a half life with you as my quarterback,
A daft life.

Half Life, Imogen Heap

Ever wanted something so bad it makes you sick?

And then you realize that you're not going to get it, so you get over it, only to find out you're totally in denial about getting over it?

And then you just care about that something so much that it hurts, and it's cliche and makes you sad?

And then

you are

the

rebound girl.


And she's stuck with a bruised heart.

I hate goodbyes. I always forget how much they hurt. And they hurt a lot, right now. More than it should.

But Halloween this year - get ready for some epic. That's all I have to say.