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Hmmm.. it would appear I need to buy a new floppy drive. Do they even sell those anymore?
Apr. 22nd, 2001
Hmmm.. it would appear I need to buy a new floppy drive. Do they even sell those anymore?
(no subject)
Apr. 22nd, 2001 10:51 pmI noticed something. When I talk deeply or emotionally, nobody comments. But when I shake ass or get a haircut.. well.. LOOK OUT SISTER! IT'S COMMENT TIME!
I guess you're all as shallow as me :D
Sweet jeebus, I need some man-pootang. I really really do. FIVE WEEKS.
Willl I come to full-term with an imaginary baby before I get some TLC? I dunno, pride is on the 24th of June. If I don't get at least some cuddle action there I'm gonna kill myself. Metaphorically of course.
Sure I may be a little honest at times (some would say unbutch, but I know straight dorks more honest than me) but am I really that repulsive? I guess I'm still cruise-blind 'cause I never pick up. Maybe I don't want to. It's hard to say what the mind thinks for you. It really is.
Dammit, I'm poetic, cuddley, furry enough and funny (if I do say so myself).. where's this unlimited supply of sex that there "bear community" promised to me? LIES DAMMIT! LIES!
And then I put on the front of not caring. I care, so deeply it hurts.. but not on the outside. The outside is hard and scarred, already. Maybe not as scared as some, but scarred enough to be visible. Callused perhaps?
But I'm queer and free. Free to be myself and decide. And I'm beautiful and I know it! DAMMIT I'M DRUNK ENOUGH TO ADMIT IT.. drunk enough not to care what you think right now. Maybe later, but not now. I'll have my man, he's there, waiting like me. Pretending to be OK like me. Waiting. Waited. Alone, just like me. But OK. OK, OK.
It's all ok. Go for launch, we'll have ignition. We will, it's definite. I've lived my whole life for that man, without knowing it. Learning to be the man that I am and the man that I'll become for him. We all work ourselves to become that man, that perfect person we'd fall head-over-boots (or heals) for in an instant with the faith that there's somebody just like you waiting for the you that you create. It's almost at catch 22. Almost. But that's the risk we run in the search of love.
And I only write this because I'm willing to take the risk that one of you just might be him. Just maybe. More than a 10% chance, but I'm willing to take it, because I care. Because I know he's there and because I'm not hard and callused like I say. Because I'm soft and pure, like all of you. Like everyone on the inside, deep down and in truth. We're all somebody's child, cliché but true. That purity of love creates us. I believe that, I do.
This is a rare case of Brodie putting down the defense. The outside, the shell, the shield, the calllus. Savour it if you care, ignore if it you don't. Because I don't care for you if you don't care for me.
I guess you're all as shallow as me :D
Sweet jeebus, I need some man-pootang. I really really do. FIVE WEEKS.
Willl I come to full-term with an imaginary baby before I get some TLC? I dunno, pride is on the 24th of June. If I don't get at least some cuddle action there I'm gonna kill myself. Metaphorically of course.
Sure I may be a little honest at times (some would say unbutch, but I know straight dorks more honest than me) but am I really that repulsive? I guess I'm still cruise-blind 'cause I never pick up. Maybe I don't want to. It's hard to say what the mind thinks for you. It really is.
Dammit, I'm poetic, cuddley, furry enough and funny (if I do say so myself).. where's this unlimited supply of sex that there "bear community" promised to me? LIES DAMMIT! LIES!
And then I put on the front of not caring. I care, so deeply it hurts.. but not on the outside. The outside is hard and scarred, already. Maybe not as scared as some, but scarred enough to be visible. Callused perhaps?
But I'm queer and free. Free to be myself and decide. And I'm beautiful and I know it! DAMMIT I'M DRUNK ENOUGH TO ADMIT IT.. drunk enough not to care what you think right now. Maybe later, but not now. I'll have my man, he's there, waiting like me. Pretending to be OK like me. Waiting. Waited. Alone, just like me. But OK. OK, OK.
It's all ok. Go for launch, we'll have ignition. We will, it's definite. I've lived my whole life for that man, without knowing it. Learning to be the man that I am and the man that I'll become for him. We all work ourselves to become that man, that perfect person we'd fall head-over-boots (or heals) for in an instant with the faith that there's somebody just like you waiting for the you that you create. It's almost at catch 22. Almost. But that's the risk we run in the search of love.
And I only write this because I'm willing to take the risk that one of you just might be him. Just maybe. More than a 10% chance, but I'm willing to take it, because I care. Because I know he's there and because I'm not hard and callused like I say. Because I'm soft and pure, like all of you. Like everyone on the inside, deep down and in truth. We're all somebody's child, cliché but true. That purity of love creates us. I believe that, I do.
This is a rare case of Brodie putting down the defense. The outside, the shell, the shield, the calllus. Savour it if you care, ignore if it you don't. Because I don't care for you if you don't care for me.