buon natale
felicitari cracium
merry christmas

i dont know
very different feeling than ive had about this season before

full of an empty striding or something
wanting to move around call certain people
certain someones who now mean nothing

so you know what it is to cry?
no not much
not much from my eyes
do i know what its like to make someone cry?
yes and no
never with intention
never about me
about the idea of me?
maybe but to think so would be to much about myself

cars with good mileage, oh simplicity

nothing wrong with not being cut out or not wanting to be cut out to fill someones heart or to have one fill my own
i dont like that someone wants to change my mind and tell me no thats not how its supposed to be
i dont like to be told that ill know 'it' when im completely loved by someone that there is constancy and an unbearable lightness of being around me pressing in so that my insides explode with the feelings of returning that love
im just afraid to disappoint
but in trying to keep myself detached so many become attached and i am my own demise my own catch22
i have to stop complaining
my dad mite call me emo again
and again
and maybe again
my mom mite ask me if i am
my dad mite say yeah everyone calls him that
maybe emos dead guys
maybe i just dont cry like you
maybe roses do have thorns so that the desired object has some protection from those trying to touch and change it
where are my thorns?
where the fuck are they?
do i grow them?
must i make them?
well its about damn time they showed up

perhaps one day it will help to remember even these things