Doot.

Fuck you, Dr. Chemical Bike Man. I play kickball against you, you knock me down. I bike alongside you, you order me around. I make out with you, you ignore me. You have issues. Or maybe that's just me, standing against the wall with twin flaming eyes. All the other girls in the gang can see my infatuation, my crush bearing down deep deep upon my chest. The girl you slept with before me knows. Is it not so obvious to you? Or maybe that's why your only words to me ever are goodbye. Goodbye. Hello hello. I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello. This is lame I must sleep a thousand years. Must I extend your waranty so soon? Bleh. I don't need drunkards, smokers or stoners but why is this whole thing so endearing it is making me sicker than sick and the only other dialogue in my head is far away impossible. Stupid me. Silly me. Wallflower amongst the calendar girls.