So I'm smiling, even though my head is killing me for the third consecutive day. That's all. Is it use? Abuse? I mean, I know I'm "using" her to feel good about myself; girls are one of my addictions. Heck, I was already crushing on a few chickies I've known for awhile, but then someone relatively new will rear her head and suddenly EVERYTHING IS BRIGHT AND LIKE IN A MUSICAL!!! Only less annoying. God, do I ever find musicals annoying.
Now the trick is, maybe, to find that one person with whom I can fall in love everyday, and crush until infinity1. Fresh and happy, but not Prozacked into a dull buzz of joy. There's ups, and there's downs, but in the end, I always come back around.
I need to write some really bad poetry now. Here's what I've got so far:
I went ahead and fell for the next big thing
Right now is about the point where I wonder if I should keep typing. Maybe if the entry is long enough, she'll skim over it and not really read what I've written. I'd hate to have her think I'm a complete and total dork; I just want to write about the act of falling in love. Or crushing. Or whatever. I could care less what you think.
Yes, I wrote that correctly. I could care less, but I'll pretend for the Time Being that I couldn't.
Y'know what I mean?
It's just the act of flirting. A man needs it to feel alive. Whatever it brings, it brings. I'm just glad it's there.
1 And who doesn't like musicals2. Or at least won't make me sit through one.