Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Diary Entry: December 10, 2004

Read this.
I've tried, but my mind just doesn't work that way. I still break into a sweat whenever Paul even passes -- and he DOES stare at me. But it's not a nice stare. It's a tormenting stare that seems to impale my soul. It's beautiful, but it's horrible, and I am utterly terrifyed by those eyes. His voice stuns me and takes me to a realm of excruciating joy. Just to be with him is a nightmare, but I can't bear to leave. He's like a drug, and I need a stronger high. The thought of him makes me shutter with excitement and my mind goes into a daze. I do things that I wouldn't normally do. I humiliate myself and others; I say things I shouldn't say, and I do things I wouldn't usually do. He controls my every move, my every word, my every thought, my every breath. I am a puppet and he is holding the strings, sending me up and down and into other worlds. I have to be with him to be happy, but being with him gives me so much sorrow I can barely comprehend it. I beg to be released from this prison of lust! I long to be free of the chains of love and move on. Release me from this torture chamber! Free me from this endless torment! I would die for him; I would live for him, I would even kill for him. I am a slave to his every command. My passion is so strong, I am in agony. Depression and heartache is all I feel as I write this. Yet, I still have a fiery detrmination -- like I still have a chance, but all is for nothing. All hope is lost. I will live and die without him. My sleep is haunting. The incubus of heartbreak creeps into my dreams. He is always there. Staring into my eyes. I am a victim of his charm. He is beautiful. He is mystifying. He is the most wonderful thing that has happened to me, yet I am cursed in his soul. He has imprinted his image into my very blood. I lie in grief, despair, and anguish. His smile can bring me to tears. If only he would smile at me that way! If only he would speak to me! If only I could touch his hand! If only he loved me! Then I would truly be at rest, and then this Hell I live in will leave me at peace. Until then, his voice, his eyes, his hate, his image, his being -- shall haunt me, and his ghost shall live inside me until the cup is removed from me....
Other than that, life is good.

1.) How melodramatic WAS I?????
2.) I use the word "incubus" in a sentence? What was my problem?
3.) This boy, Mr. Paul... he only had said 30 words to me at this point. Four of them being "Hi" and eight of them being, "Can I spit out my gum real quick?"

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