i'll try to make this perfectly clear. (avantguardian) wrote,
i'll try to make this perfectly clear.

fuck you and your untouchable face

live journals can be so dangerous. browsing around, not knowing what you'll find.
open a page and get hit in the face. you've been replaced. pictures to prove it. and they look so much happier.
now starts the comparisons.
i hate the race after a relationship to end up on top. but its all a facade anyways. there is no way either person involved can be better than they were together at that perfect moment. when nothing else mattered. and you two could lay there in his bed falling in and out of consciousness, not afraid to fall asleep, not afraid to wake up.

how can what we had be reproduced? was that all it was when we were together too? because to tell you the truth, it felt genuine. and now i feel naive.

and i just wonder if he's happy. because im not. and maybe that means i lose. but ive been loosing for years.
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gah. i know what you mean all too well. and it's not fair. not fair at all. cause you see/read these things and you shouldn't be pissed because it's just the way things are....but they are all you can think about from the time you wake up till the time you go to sleep
yeah, and the pictures are ingrained into the backs of your eyelids, so that everytime you close your eyes, the two of them together, kissing, is all you can see.
wow, i don't know you but holy shit i hate the internet because of this exact thing. i'm always accidently reading things about ex's and past things that drive me crazy even though they shouldn't. it's such a bitch.
its the strange comfort which comes about from lifes repeatitions, that, in the quiet moments hurts the most
:*( im sorry.. I really know how you feel too..
I have this expereince often. And what about reading someone random's journal (example here) who then you figure out is the current lover of you current lovers ex. Does that make you connected? Or finding pictures of people you don't really care about, but would have done better to see.

here here.
always searching, such lost children, only to find the answers we so desperatly hope for in the relationships that cause us so much trouble. well, i remember that moment, i miss it, and i cant find anything else to define myself by, because it did feel real ...now it seems like a memory implanted by some machine that didnt quite finish. so that bits and pieces catch your attention everyday and yet i do nothing because what is it to me? its nothing. something i wanted to tell you, but couldnt cause i had to wait for you to finish talking, and forgot when it was my turn to speak.