It's called waffling.

So, I'm on SPRING BREAK 2K6!! Somehow, I can't write that in lowercase letters, so I apologize in advance. I feel like that phrase should reach out from the screen and give you a meaty slap, and then just keep slapping you and slapping you, so that you know you're not ever going to wake up from this beautiful dream. SPRING BREAK 2K6!!

I am in a confused place right now. You see, hella shit should be happening this week and next, but I am reluctant to get started, to talk about it, to write about it. I know that I can't live in limbo forever, but it seems safe enough here. Here, there are no expectations, but there are no promises. Here's where we both hurt the least. Or not. But me, yeah. Stagnation has always been a comfort zone for me.

I should be less ambiguous, but I really can't.

I want to write my smut again. I want to tell yall the sordid and mundane details of my life again. It's not even like n's blogger's block. I have shit to say. Lots of it. Thinking shit and ranting shit, angsty goth poetry shit, grocery lists, stupid stories, slutty stories. I want to hash out my relationships here, I want to get all nekkid and talktalktalk.

But I'm stuck. It's like I have one big story to tell and it involves something sensitive for every person listening -- but it's an epic, life-changing story -- and I can't tell a soul. But, I have to tell everyone. I really want the catharsis of unloading without the burden of reciprocation or the fear that someone will need to handle me, solve it, or be hurt. AH!! SPRING BREAK 2K6 how I hate thee!! Alone with my thoughts. Well, alone in a glass box. Maybe if I just mimed it a little.

How about this guy's drawings? It might look a little like this:


Or something like that, anyway. I think I just dug how well-defined his junkage is. The slut is back!! SPRING BREAK 2K6!!

Sigh. We're nowhere new.