Stuff Outta My Extra-Stressed Head

My legs... I can't feel them.

My head...There's a drill attached to it.

Yo tengo estressante...

Words are running around pages after pages egging me to read on...but after a minute, they melt away into the white, black and gray of the day...not making sense anymore, or at all.

I want someone who will treat me like I'm the most beautiful girl in the world even though staring at Jack Black's butt is more pleasing than laying eyes on me.

Volleyball is a game...I don't see the point.

Is it better to have been loved and lost or never to have been loved at all?
Is it better to have felt the enormous joy and the crushing pain, or to be feeling this endless longing?
Is it better to have been filled and drained out, or to remain empty?
Is it easier to look back at the happy past, or to look forward to a happiness yet non-existent?
Is it easier to pretend, or to come out clean and risk losing him?
Is it easier to live knowing that he can never be yours, or just die to end the pain?

The worst feeling is after dreaming the sweetest dream, a dream that made all your dreams come true even for just a few moments in an unconscious world, believing for that mere moment that it is all real...and then hearing a far away ring, the ring that brings you back to the usual, your usual position, your normal state...distant from the only happiness you've ever known, one you've craved for for so long, the one that may be the only thing that completes you...

....and realize that you're thinking these disgustingly cheesy and embarrassing things.

Erase. Erase.