Handcuffs, please, and not in a kinky way...

Society has written rules. They are called laws. Though they can be confusing at times, they are for the most part laid out clearly... After all, they are written down.

Life has unwritten rules. Things you just don't do. These things are certainly not offenses punishable by jail time or community service, but I'm starting to believe the consequences to breaking unwritten rules are far more grave.

Last night, I broke the unwritten girl code. One of those things you just don't do. Or, one of those things you don't do until you've been slamming shots of vodka out of champagne glasses for an hour and a half every time Joey on "Friends" says "How you doin'?"

One of those things you tell yourself you didn't do and would never do to a friend of yours because girls have to stick together and they would never do it to you, so it's off limits. Period.

And I did it anyway.

Yeah, I'm that girl...

If this is torture...

It's been a month.

...And in this month, a thousand thoughts have raced their way through my head, screaming, Write me, write me.

...And a thousand thoughts have remained unwritten, a thousand posts unfinished.

... A thousand words, just not enough.

I used to "write it out" when something was bothering me. Out of my melodramatic angst usually emerged something beautiful, some miraculous combination of words that could be bourne only from my many troubles.

I used to be good when I was crying, brilliant when my heart was broken.

I didn't know heartbroken.

... And now that I do, the words just won't show up.

... And I seem to hate them just as much as I hate everything else lately.

Pathetic.