kerouac says

it's been colorful. yesterday on the train back from the movie, the monkey put a banana peel in his nose hole and i laughed harder than i have in a long time. i was telling him that when we started dating i knew he was a funny guy, but i didn't know he was the exact kind of funny that makes me lose my breath and grab my pancreas. later, at home, we did the kind of laughing that seems to only happen in the bathroom, and--like i usually do--i fell into the bathtub in my glee and had to lie there for a while, sniffling with my giggles.

i'm trying to write fancifully about something to do with feeeeelings, and no matter how many fairies and cans of motor oil i try to stir into it, it still comes out literal. someone i love is saying things that hurt. i think it's selfish, and i think it sucks, but i also understand the value of selfish, and so maybe it only sucks if you're me, and if you're the other person, it's hard-but-necessary. for the record, it still sucks. also for the record, being hurt occasionally makes me want to fly into my attacker's face with butter knife brandished, yelling:

your life would suck with out me! you know it would! it would suck so much!