immense-chagrin

when you live in the same house for a while you grow used to the little things the little regular things the way the microwave beeps three times and the oven beeps five when its hot. the systematic jump over the fourth step because it creaks. the way the drips fall from the faucet every ten seconds or so unless its cold or on Sunday. the way the sixth tile on the right is cracked right at the corner, where grout meets grout. you don't notice that the cabinet above the stove opens to the wrong side you've grown to expect the dirty mat on which dirtier shoes lie. and you don't even care that every picture is hung crooked. rat

im one of those normal people the normal kind of person who scribbles numbers on envelopes of yesterday's mail. the normal kind of person who chews the ends of writing utensils until they no longer spread ink. the normal kind of person who takes comfort in little things like warm towels on cold days and noticing gas prices went down. the normal kind of person who reads cheap novels under dying lightbulbs as their coffee slowly releases a comforting steam. the normal kind of person who eats foods that are unhealthy (as they swallow pills for assorted conditions) and couldn't be happier. the normal kind of person who writes a

i'm not a fucking WRITER. i'm just a girl who hates herself and everything she says does writes touches thinks about. i'm just a human that makes a lot of mistakes food money and everything i do is a complete waste of time breath money space. i'm fucking flawed. and i dont expect you to tell me otherwise sometimes i just want to spend the day alone and tranquil with drugs or alcohol or SOMETHING and just be some sort of wasted. but instead i'm wasting everything else. everything you've just read was a waste of our time.

words dropping like rain on a sidewalk eventually theyre blending and it doesnt mean anything it's just another useless fight to be confused with all the others your words my words your points my points your blame my blame your fault my fault it isnt getting anywhere stop trying stop trying it's meaningless anyway as i've said before and argument after argument isn't going to lead to a solution to whatever is the problem so i think i give up not on us, of course. but on this argument i apologized and for once i meant it and you keep bringing up things that should make me guilty and i keep apologizing because

I'm going to start this the same way I start all of my writing: with some meaningless descriptions. So here goes... ______ Rain was beating against my car onto my windshield. The wipers were frantic, working to push the droplets out of my sight. It seemed like it was getting faster and harder, but I realized it was only because rain is no big deal when you're going 20 miles an hour. It's when you're going 50 that it gets in the way. But when am I ever going 20? I turned up the radio, listening as Amy Millan's gorgeous voice overshadowed my own, with the occasional backup from Torq Campbell. I love Stars. "All right, I can say what you wa

Sometimes, on the coldest days like today, my defroster is my enemy. It hates me more than anything does, and it likes to display its feelings. It refuses to work, and my windows fog up faster than sunrise in spring. Sunrises in spring are pretty foggy here, as well as just plain pretty. But I'm not much for fog in general. I'm not much for snow, wind, cold, rain, clouds or any weather condition for that matter. But this wasn't real fog, so I guess I didn't have a problem with it. My windows were clear enough to see the surrounding red of brake lights and stop lights. They blinded me with the light that spread like explosions through the con