Changes.

Things have changed since I started this blog.
I'm single. Have been for a few months- just never published it. Being disaster's bitch has taken on a new meaning for me now- disaster seems to rule my life, more so than Zara ever did. I'm still a lesbian, but if I was in the closet before, I'm in a box in the closet now. I like it in here, most of the time... except, how many in-the-closet lesbians can find an interesting, eloquent, intelligent girlfriend who likes them back and wants a little house on the outskirts of a city with two gray kittens and black curtains?


Question: Why are girls so complicated?
My answer to myself: Girls are complicated for the same reason I am. Do I like it when other people expect me to be normal and sane? Obviously not... I'm talking to myself.

Question: Why not? I hear lots of perfectly sane people talk to themselves. Its like a commonplace thing nowadays.
My answer to myself: Commonplace or not, its still the first sign of insanity.

Question: Do you suffer from insanity?
My answer to myself: No... I enjoy every minute of it.



No, in all seriousness... Why are girls so complicated?
Here's my theory: we're complicated because we don't want anyone to understand us. We like that enigmatic feeling of being unknown. Not necessarily all the repercussions of being confusing- just the feeling of power that nobody will ever completely own us. Being confusing is our way of being our own person.

Next question... Why do girls drag us around?
I mean... I don't do it, do I? When I like someone, I commit. This is the girl I want to spend the rest of my life loving... at least until my heart becomes broken and I hate her guts. Is that wrong of me?



I mean... Its not like I have all that much to offer. I'm not that pretty and I can be a total freak sometimes. But I'm loyal and I have enough love to fuel a harem. I want my girlfriend to be happy- even if its without me.

However, right now, I'm on the rampage. The girl I love (that's right L-O-V-E) isn't ever going to like (that's L-I-K-E) me enough to take me seriously, even though I could take much better care of her and love her more than any of her one-week flings. Someday, though, she'll come to her senses. Maybe?

Or maybe you know, I'll end up with the same fucking broken heart I've had all along.