I'm so horny and so incapable of finding satisfactory release (read: hopelessly horny) that I looked up the etymology of "horny." Doesn't quite plug the hole, if you know what I mean.

This would have been a tweet if I used Twitter.

Ah. Well. Hello. I realize that I also turn to you when I feel that no one is my friend anymore. I am well past the incipience of the feeling that there is no longer any room for me here. "Me" as in my thoughts, my emotions, my desires, my ambitions, my hopes, my actions, my body, my voice ( Read more... )

I turn to you when I want someone to listen, but I don't want anyone to hear. When I wish... when I wish I could speak to one of the many people whom I love or have loved, yet I feel like I can't. It's sad how the last two posts were things I'd forgotten I'd even written. Yet when I look at them, it comes back. How lost I was. How lost I still am ( Read more... )

Everything is broken.

Help me.

I don't want to be who I am anymore. 

I know how I'll know if he's the one. If we're lying in the each other's arms, staring up at the stars -- and we're doing it anyway, even if it's a cliche, because the sight is too beautiful to overwhelmed by cliche -- and he asks me what I want to do when I grow up. Well, we're sort of grown up already, but not really. Anyway, he asks me what I ( Read more... )

I miss my boyfriend. I mean my ex.

I just... almost can't believe it. My first. My only, so far. I miss him.

I miss you my Jorge boi.

[Nd]

It doesn't make me feel any better to write in here. Or maybe it does. I don't know what else to do. I just feel so down right now. I'm definitely not depressed -- just down. He's gone. We're not us. I'm just me ( Read more... )

I feel like writing again after we basically bashed the idea of keeping a diary in my Historical Process class. Well we weren't trying to bash it. It's just that Narveson kept asking people, "Oh. So you kept a diary. Why did you start doing that? And why did you stop?" And people would answer, "I started it because of blah blah... but then I got ( Read more... )

I wish all my problems fit into a tube of toothpaste. And while my problems are in the tube, they're still in my life. But once I've rolled up the tube and gathered all the stress, anxiety, regret, resentment, anger... Once I've taken it all and squeezed and pushed and forced it all out of the tube, it's out of my life. And I'm just an empty tube ( Read more... )