Don't read this.

Usually, when I write a blog, I'll admit it's for you.
But this one is guaranteed to be all kinds of sef-obsessed cry baby bullshit, so if you're looking to be entertained, try coming back next week.

Apparently I have a brain.
I'm not so sure, because I spend an incredible amount of time not using it.
Or more to the point, a lot of time wishing I could wrest control of it from whatever malevolent force currently holds bragging rights/occupation.

For example.
Every day, all I can think about is one person.
Obsessed? Totally.
I went from not giving a crap whether they lived or died when we met, to never sleeping from thoughts and questions and the neverending need for attention from that one person.
I know it's wrong, I know I need to enjoy the sunshine and concentrate on my job, and hatch a plot against the Government. But I can't.

It's my brain! Why aren't I driving?
And if I'm not, who is?
Am I really this self-destructive?
Actually, scratch that last question, of course I am. My name's 'knifey' ferchrissakes.

Why can't I move on?
Why do I honestly believe not only that there is no-one on the face of the planet who could come close to comparing, but worse still, why have I just given up even being open to the idea? Like, this person who has no respect for anyone outside of themselves, is the greatest of all possible people to be stuck on?

I'll flirt til the cows come home (and sometimes even later), but my fortifications make the Great Wall of China look like a cardboard box. I'm so untoucheable, you should call me Elliot Ness. Would you like a boyfriend? Keep walking...
Am I really turning into the cynical old hermit that lives inside, and only comes out to buy groceries and glare at people? Feels like it.

Not healthy.

And why is it that in this state, the only attention I get is from a seemingly inexhaustible procession of females whos hobbies include walks on the beach, holding hands, and stalking? I must have a neon sign flashing above my head that says 'Are you insane? Talk to me about it! Let's get together!'
Seriously, in the last week I have met so many people like this I'm considering starting up a National Database.

I'm not saying men are any better, but generally men don't try to pick me up.
Maybe they should.

Is there a Doctor in the house?
Can someone show me where my emotional dump valve is, so I can flush thoughts of this person out of my system, and get on with enjoying all the mega-yay stuff I have around me? Please don't tell me this is forever.

I'm serious, I think my anus would prolapse from the shock.
And no-one wants to see that kind of action.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled hilarity.


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.