"why don't you post more?" he asks.

cause there's so much in my head right now that i can't find anything and put it down here.

how did you make a cake that came out like cornbread - you always say what you're not going to tell me; that's mean - are you going to buy new panties - words don't restore - now he's not speaking to me - but wasn't that the point - are we going to church this weekend - what if it's weird to be there - what if it's not all we expected because we've built it up too much and there was no way reality could compete with our ideal - are you going to buy more detergent - maybe you should get some drain-o - you lost 8 pounds, get in the gym and lose 8 more - maybe i shouldn't talk about it with her - how close do i let her get again before she fucks it, and me, up even worse - i'm being replaced; it's exactly what i joked about and now he is actually doing it - if i go to the party is he going to be there with his fiancee - i don't give a fuck, but people will be looking to me for a reaction - ugh, the pressure - i had you on my hands and in mouth for days, that's what i didn't say - but it's all the same old bullshit anyway - i threw the sole blow, but you, you threw the first stone - man, i'm supposed to make green jello shots - i can't wait to see our skin together again - god i want to be there sooner, but, at the same time, i don't want it to ever come - isn't it nice where we are, don't you want to keep it that way forever so it never sours and never hurts - must think of april fool's jokes - why does my dad respond to my emails with a quotes from national lampoon's vacation - i need to go to the dentist - on my hands - the first fucking stone.