(no subject)
I keep a paper journal. It's a pretty, leather thing. All gilded pages and cream colored insides. It's meant to look sophisticated. Anyway, I write my truly personal thoughts in my paper journal. It doesn't bother me that I know my little sister reads it. She can't understand and she realizes that. She's written me off as insane, in a mostly harmless sort of way.
I don't write about personal experiences in it. Just feelings, thoughts, snippets of ideas.
I was thinking of posting something that I've just written in it. It's so dramatic. I can be so tragic sometimes. I know that in the morning I'll laugh at my ridiculousness. Such a sheer sense of tragedy.
I'm mostly done with The Collector. It's so...desolate. I love it but it makes me feel trapped as well. There's no relief from the sense of loneliness. Both main characters are terribly...alone, sad, gray.
I'm so desperately sad.
I have a great-aunt who's all Holy, holy, holy. I think that I've washed my hands with her completely. I used to adore her but she made me absolutely sick today. I wanted to bash her face in with a frying pan. She's full of shit and if that's what holy is, I don't want to be it.
I don't write about personal experiences in it. Just feelings, thoughts, snippets of ideas.
I was thinking of posting something that I've just written in it. It's so dramatic. I can be so tragic sometimes. I know that in the morning I'll laugh at my ridiculousness. Such a sheer sense of tragedy.
I'm mostly done with The Collector. It's so...desolate. I love it but it makes me feel trapped as well. There's no relief from the sense of loneliness. Both main characters are terribly...alone, sad, gray.
I'm so desperately sad.
I have a great-aunt who's all Holy, holy, holy. I think that I've washed my hands with her completely. I used to adore her but she made me absolutely sick today. I wanted to bash her face in with a frying pan. She's full of shit and if that's what holy is, I don't want to be it.