(no subject)
I wrote two lengthy bitch entries in the past two weeks. None of them showed up though. I won't rewrite them. I can't recreate them. I'm listening to a Broken Social Scene song right now. Whenever I listen to it I think of the love of my life putting his hand around my neck as he sensually fucks me. My dad just fucking walked behind me when I typed that. I don't care though, he's had to have had the same desires sometimes in his life. He's growing a mullet, and both of my brothers are growing beards. And my mom's hair looks really ratty. Maybe its their way of telling me they've missed me. Haha. I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm not sure if I should be an artist anymore. Its too complicated. People tell me I'm the best they've seen, or at least one of the best, but when it comes time to trying to get art scholarships, everything that I thought I was seems like it never was. Or something. But I guess everyone, successful or not, has taken hard hits, so I don't feel that bad. Sorry if I'm boring you. I'm not sure that I have a culture shock. Its more like I woke up from a dream and now I have to put my clothes on and get ready for the rest of my life. I miss Italy. I miss the new friends I've made, and I miss cobble stone streets and almost getting hit by cars, and waking up at Cole's and having to walk home every morning from her house. I miss gelato and getting drunk in front of the Duomo.