Alright, here's the deal. This is a simple little thing I put together when my mind wouldn't shut up about it. Er... It is mainly focusing on Jude and her feelings (now, or maybe in the past--you can choose) towards a certain guppy. Some of her feelings are pretty strong, some not. Her character may seem confused or content. I really don't know, honestly. Do with it what you will--think of it what you will. I just wrote it down and typed it up.

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing dolls.

I've learned it takes forty two muscles in your face to frown... But it takes only four muscles to extend your arm and smack someone upside the head.

I can see the frustration upon your face when you try to talk me down, tired eyes. You really should just dish out a fib. You're stressing me out when you prove me wrong. Why can't it just be the way it used to be? If you value your life. If you value a joy-curing alarm. If you value a stomachache. If I value the thickest of skins. It's scaring me through all of those feelings that I gave up, killed, and buried. I can feel them worming their way out of my gut and sliming up my insides. Climbing and crawling out of my mouth. I just hope with all hopes that I can prevent myself from going down again. Why are you the only one who makes my legs shake so hard?

Because Tommy is artificial. Yes, you really are boy. Because Tommy is everything I shouldn't need. It's my fault. I was engulfed in that fever. Oh I was enamored with someone uncool.

But today is the beginning of a whole new reformation. I don't want to worship you like all those other coeds, with their tongues flapping loosely, they leave you their praises. I far from praise you. I far from like you. I endure you and I endure the torture you put me through every second of every day for the rest of my life. I endure the lack of passion you have for me. I endure my worth to you.

From now on I request no tolerable glances. I request no comebacks. But honey I do request an end to those counterfeit touches. I request a less intimate attitude, because I find it deceiving. I still get diseased to my stomach on days when I hear stories that are absorbed with your name. If I look at you from far away, a pain shoots through my gut. Up close, it's just fine. I don't go there anymore; it made me vomit.

Days like these are the ones I spend chewing on Tums and dallying with my email, just waiting for you to call me back. I know I blew right past you but I miss your hands.

I'm terribly sorry I got this way. I'd kill for a fresh contingency because I feel like my ticker is going to erupt inside my chest. I guess I just feel vacant. I want drugs to keep my hands steady and fuck with my heart. I want to take apart the world and place myself in the core of it. It's an odd feeling, it really is. I wanted to run away so badly. I wanted to pretend I'd felt nothing and walk out those doors without it. How can I get to a lower point? I'm so much better when my mouth is shut and my legs are moving.

You used me for everything you needed and then let it all go. What do I look like I'm doing? I think I look like I'm blissfully brain dead. I'm going to find the sun that I swallowed so long ago. I'm going to throw up glorious. I really have not much to say back to a redundant pit you and I have fallen into so early in our times.

Maybe I'll let the music start an uprising. Like you used to tell me. You used to tell me it was okay to be a little different. But you never were. That song used to be dedicated to you. I loved how surprised everyone was when they found out. I didn't know what they were talking about. Like it was a good thing you didn't because I would have probably just broken in half. It's not meaningful. It's not anything. It's terrible for me to continue with these hallelujahs. You pushed Jude out of her body, and now I can't find her. I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder. I wanna burn my number into your brain. So you pick at the numbers at any sign of pain or boredom, maybe loneliness. I don't care whose side you're on just as long as I can hear you screaming at me. This song makes me want to cast a promise out to my adored.

I want to occur so delicate that you won't envelop me because you're panic-stricken at battering me. Not because I am unapproachable.

Don't you see? Don't you get it, Tommy? Sometimes the air is so thick I feel like I'm breathing water. The more I try, the deeper my gut-hole gets. The more washed out I am. The more nauseas I get after I eat. The harder it is to wake up. The colder I am after I shower--the longer my showers get. The more time I waste.

I remember when you told me to get lost. The words cut deep and my eyes stung. You don't understand how hard it was to keep it together, to keep my mouth shut. I just kept cracking my knuckles, I didn't have anything else to do.

And then you damn kissed me. You, with the hands of a martyr. You, with the softest lips. You with the dimple.

I felt a heat arise in me that I didn't want to ignore. And I wish I could feel that alive again. That's all I want. To feel like something important is in my heart and that the blood running its course through me isn't trying to escape. To feel like a present life-source and not a sleep walking ghoul. A creeping, crawling ghost. I want to laugh sincerely again and be able to look them all in the eyes. I want to smile a real smile and walk without my feet dragging the carpet. I want to trust my fellow life-dwellers. Not feel more and more anxiety with each minute that runs away from me.

It couldn't have been as easy as you said it was to rip free from my arms and put your so called healthy distance between us but you did it. The tears pushed painfully on the rims of my eyes to fall. But I wouldn't allow you the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Not again. And that's why when I ran out of that building, they began to immediately sting a hot path down my cheeks. That's why I slapped wickedly at my face hoping to smack the anger, frustration and tears away.

I have decided that I'm not going to feel guilty for what you did to me anymore. I've apologized to the point where it's getting redundant. I shouldn't be the one to apologize. I have tried with all the compassion that I have to help, comfort, and befriend you. I realize that I am not a bad person and there isn't a thing I can do to make you happy.

You're a fool. You've become everything you said that you never would be.

I've got a new pair of running shoes, Tommy. Gonna put 'em on and chase after you.