Irrational

Whenever I get super stressed out, sometimes I do something productive to get rid of the nervous energy that goes along with it.  The weeks shit-losing session ended in me doing all the laundry.  All of it.  Cleaned the bathroom.  Did all the dishes.  And then cleaned out my black hole that is my refrigerator.  With gross teens, that's a lot of groady.

I keep wanting to write an open letter to teenage girls about dating and boys.  But I won't.  I don't have real advice to give, other than DON'T DO IT.  That in itself is all the advice you need, really.

They say this soul mate hunting will cost me my mind....
I say I'd go insane if I stop.
You might wonder how much you can hate someone you once truly loved;
But how can you not:
When they squander your kindness
And make you feel miserable most of the time.
When they flatter you out of their own convenience 
And disregard your needs
And shrug as they glance over their shoulder rather than take heed.
The real question begs: how could you have fallen for someone like that?
I have a tendency to ramble
And if it doesn't hit my ears sweeter than Cole Porter I don't want it anymore;
I was never really one to enjoy playing the part of the whore.
I'm still figuring out my place on this big blue marble
And then I remember the one place that always made room 
for my jagged edges.
Forgive me;   you.
It was always you.
I hope you know that you are loved.
Bizarrely and irrationally,
But loved entirely nonetheless.

~ Cynicallovebird