DEAR GOD WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST DO and Happy Easter

OH SHIT WHAT THE FUCK I DEFINITELY WENT ALL BRITNEY SPEARS AND NOW I HAVE NO HAIR ON MY HEAD, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, I CANT WAIT FOR IT TO GROW BACK, I FEEL LIKE A WEIRD BUG.

I have decided to cut the shit with my ex and just focus on what matters to me, which is myself. A very wise friend of mine brought up the possibility of her doing a psychotic scene in front of anybody that could potentially matter. I shouldn't "touch that [even] with somebody else's dick", so I will just follow what my wise friend has said, and just leave that behind. I can't risk that much with somebody whose presence I don't really enjoy even. Same goes for a specific friend I have that I want to back off from. But that's beside the point.

"If you don't like her, stop sticking your dick in her."

The other friend has repeatedly butchered those words, repeating them about the one person that I have potentially treasured the most so far.

"So, this one, do you wanna stick your dick in her, or do you not wanna stick your dick in her"

Things aren't always about wanting to stick my dick into a woman. There's other things. There's the fact that she knows so much more, that I would love to get lost in a strange city with her, as long as I can also get lost in her eyes. And I'm daydreaming again.
I am very confused as to the purpose for which that dearly beloved good-dear-old-what's-her-face, somebody that I respect and treasure very much, wants to see me again. I don't want to day dream again, or to check my phone 500 times every hour to see if she has messaged me. It's not right.
However, I do admit that I want to see her. It's been months since I have had my dose of wreck-me-up and paint-me-stars. I will get attached again, and I will treasure every second I have with her again, based on an idea that's just in my head and not hers. I don't want to get to that point again, if she's that addictive to me.
I'm depressive sometimes, when I realise how lonely this world is, how little I have, and how much I treasure that bit I got. I am what's left of what once was steel. I am easy to shape now. I'm not strong anymore. I'm tired of being a rock for others to lean on. I want other people to fight; I'm done fighting. I'm what's left after the rain washes away. I'm a drunken hipster drinking merlot and listen to records while attempting to clean his room and failing at it.
Mau the scarecrow

"Should've, could've, would've, those only pop up after the facts are in. Crap."

I thought I was done with the moments that taste like copper in one's thirsty mouth. All of a sudden, it feels like an angry Bedouin machine operator had shoved a handful of copper shavings and sand in my sandwich and made me eat it, and I have no choice but savour every gram of that metal and sand mixture, until I finally quit refusing and eat this delightful meal.

I had not given this much thought. I thought that large doses of distance and time would heal me up, but all it did was put them aside. 

All I was doing was reading some old messages. I deleted most of them, so I have no recollection of what was said. I can't necessarily examine it to try and find clues hidden in her words. If she ever gave any. I just couldn't read her. Only one remains. One of a time which I probably killed whatever was there by attacking her passions- a better world. I attacked the good intentions she had. Stupid me, I could only see her good intentions.

I tried to apologize. But I just couldn't make it good enough to repair whatever was there. If there was anything at all.

What hurts me now is that I never left that door open. I didn't know how. I was scared. After all, that was the only time I pursued somebody. The other times, things just happened. And just a few days ago, while having a conversation full of stories with bad endings, it all came back to my head, leaving my eyes watery, my lips dry, and my head feeling like I had drank too much.

I want to open that door again. I wish I could turn things back to a year ago, before I fucked shit up. 

I'm at work. Every drop of saliva feels sour. I feel like I'm gonna start being the insecure child I was when I was around her.

I can't afford this. 

I put my mask back on, and my own emotions towards somebody that probably doesn't care are shattering it, showing my own damn insecurities.

To think that for a while, while I had your interest, I had everything I could possibly want.

lol, im yellow.

I have decided that I'm not moving out. I feel like a coward because of the fact that I was scared and didn't move out, but I also feel like I am the biggest shit-stirrer upper. I'm not moving out without at least making a huge shit-storm. And I'm ready for it. Because I'm the youngest one for a reason. I can stir shit up whenever I want. I can do it. And I will if it's necessary. Also, I got a record player with the money I was trying to save. :3

Well, crap.

After discussing almost every night for, what, almost years, a conversation led to it being official that I'm moving out. I guess now there is just no turning back. I'm not scared, just really sad. I didn't want to move out in this current situation. I wanted to move out when I felt I was ready, not when I feel that moving out is the only way to keep whatever is left of my sanity. Tomorrow I'll have a look at some room that's close to my workplace.
Kinda feels like I don't belong anywhere. But I gotta find where I can be in peace.
Doing this, I will probably lose the few friends I got. I'll have to start everything from zero.
Shit, I hope this turns out well.