Friends ONLY.
I am fine; I am fine like a person in a coma is fine.
I am addicted; I am addicted like a drag queen is addicted to hairspray and makeup.
I want it; I want it like a man wants a naked woman.
I have friends that leave me notes on my car when I’m at work. I have friends that give me back rubs when I whine about my back hurting too much. My friends realize that money isn’t the only thing worth living for. They appreciate me for the person I am. I have friends who send me postcards when they travel. And when I’m sad they send me flowers or make me cards so I know I’m loved. I have friends who go to porn stores with me at 2:30 AM and hug me when I cry because I don’t have anyone to buy an outfit for. I have friends that will drop everything just to go with me to our secret place. They even draw me pictures. Mostly importantly I have friends who will take off their shoes to run through wet grass with me. I have fucking cool friends. It’d be pretty hard to top them.
I’ve been through a lot. I run from good people, good things, and bad problems. I’m too paranoid. I get anxious about tomorrow, when I should just focus on one day at a time. I over think everything. If you see me on the street, you should probably just run the other way because I’m a tough bitch. I am scared of the dark and spiders. I get drunk enough to throw up in porcelain throats. I like pot. I write on every little piece of paper I come across-in hopes of someone finding them. I dream of running away to Santorini with paper, pens, and my camera. When people ask me what I’m doing today I like to answer it with, “Taking over the mother fucking world.” I like rain, mud, and wet grass. I’ve heard to many slurred lies in hotel rooms, beds, bathtubs, and cars. Trust me I won’t believe you. I’ve had eleven names tattooed on my body. I have had two names written in my heart. I’ve fucking heard it all. But I’m still praying every day that SOMEONE will love me like one that’s going out of style. I like looking in someone’s eyes hard enough that I might begin to understand what they are feeling and who they are. I’ve made promises I haven’t kept-my friends still seem to keep me around. I cuss like a mother fucking sailor. If you hate me, then fuck you.
If you have something to say, say it. Know this, I want to see it. Words are merely words. Actions do words justice. If you want something you should try for it. Don’t just try but try with every little breath your body gives. Most of the time you can do so much more than you think. Someone just might smile. [Try a little harder.]
To the point, this is a Friends Only journal. I’ve been told I’m too melodramatic. I have feelings, I hurt, and I cry. This journal is to express myself on whatever I’m feeling don’t tell me what I need to feel. If you approve everything I’ve said about myself, and you think that you could be my friend-give me a hand when I need it, then comment. If I think you could be special in my life, I’ll add you back. If I remove you and you think it’s a mistake comment and maybe I’ll think about it.