Friday, April 13, 2012
The celebrities I ship, they're all manic and random and stuff.
And I guess the reason why I love them so much, so much more than the appreciation I give to this world and life of mine, is that I'm pretty much like them.
It's a sad thing, you know, knowing that you'll sit through interviews with remarks that would bring similar effect to the audience or perhaps even better.
Because it's written in the stars for I will not have nor deserve the treatment and chances they had.
And them being so full of crapload is enjoyable, really, to listen to them even if it's just 'Oh, I peed in the woods' or 'Is that a sex swing?'
Self-deprecating I won't say; it's a whole other level of humor and attraction.
It's funny I'm even here writing these stuffs. I logged on feeling it's the worst day ever and maybe it is after all.
For completely no reason, I want to cry. And badly.
And it doesn't help when it's images of Peeta crying on the carriage to the train to the Capitol conjured in my mind. I would love to hurl vulgarities at anyone around me right now which would land me in deep bollocks if it were to happen any way.
Distractions not helping much, argh, what is wrong with me.
Sometimes, times like this, I feel like I'm really broken inside out. Likely diagnosed with some mental stuff or something. But I know I can't be cos' no one deranged would still be interested in anything, anything like jenlaw or jhutch.
I need to watch it again. Tonight probably, and I can release all this I-don't-know-what once and hopefully for all.
I just can't afford to feel like that.