Sans picture, because.

I have completely dismantled one of those tacky umbrellas that people stick in tropical drinks, and I've turned it into a stick person doing the hula, because of course, that's the natural progression of a drink umbrella that you've torn down. I don't even know where the hell this umbrella came from, I just know that my first instinct was to make it something else, because sometimes, I really enjoy creating a puzzle out of nothing at all.

https://vine.co/v/bdzJWQKmelV This is making me laugh.

There's a song in my head that I can't make go away, no matter what I do.

It's on this odd loop, constantly replaying the parts that make me the angriest.

It's just something I have to deal with, because I'm too scared to listen to music that I actually like, because I know those words, and I'm a tad sensitive right now. (edit: my own music wins, because the song in my head...that's still there, just a lot quieter now...is really starting to hurt my fucking feelings with its persistence. FUCK, it's irritating!)

Last night, I drove through my city. I drove through my city and I watched the lights glow above buildings that people were sleeping in. I watched cars speed past me, but everything felt so slow. I waited for the minutes to tick tick tick down, because I promised I would, and I always keep my promises. I spent a good deal of time sitting on the hood of my car, watching the stars flicker over my sleepy city, the lights blurring and reflecting in each ridiculous tear that had waited patiently to fall. And they were so patient.

I remember crying over a boy once when I was younger; I remember thinking that being older meant that things wouldn't hurt at all. I felt like I was just so god damn in touch with the entire world when I was a teenager, and I had a direct line in to this huge pool of feelings that adults just couldn't understand. I just assumed that adults were dead inside, because none of them seemed to understand how it was that I was feeling, and always told me I was wrong, and these things I felt weren't actually things. I would angrily tell myself  that they didn't get it because the older you get, the less you really feel and know.

I was a little fucking shit when I was a teenager, in case that story didn't make it wildly apparent.

I held on to that last belief, in a manner of speaking, for quite some time. I would take an emotional beating (actually, I took a lot of them, because teenagers make awesomely bad choices) in my late teens and tell myself, oh man, soon you'll be a real adult and shit just won't hurt anymore. And then my early twenties came, and when my illusions were shattered and my heart was broken, I stoically told my heart that the next time, however far into the future that might be, I would be older and any kind of pain I experienced wouldn't hurt, because that's how the world works. That was five years ago, and guess what I've discovered? That either I was fucking wrong when I was a teenager, or I'm not actually an adult yet, and turning into petrified wood emotionally is a slower process than I anticipated. The first option is right, I'm just being diverse to prove that I have range.

I don't know how to end this, though there are a million things I want to say. My little mind is equally as tangled.