Schizo
There's someone I really, really, really hate. I might be oddly and perhaps a little disturbingly intrigued by them, but they still make my skin crawl with their incessant blah blah blah. It's like, the expectation is that people care about their farm animals and their sex and their boring, boring lives.And even as I write them a hate-note, never to be sent, I wonder if I hate them only because I see parts of me in them. Which, you know, makes sense, as they're big enough to have eaten me, and not in a good way.
<< Home