this is the end of this journal.
my four years of high school have come to an end.
interested in reading the next four years?
add me over again.

heart-shape
heart-shape
heart-shape
heart-shape

it's been fun, high school journal.

“Sometimes I surge with power ( Read more... )

I'm not healthy. It's truthfully not that hard to say. I am not healthy.

But I can change. And forgive me, but is that not absolutely wonderful?

I have so much power. And I've got a whole life in front of me not to prove, but witness it.

Maybe I am a control freak. Fine. But I'm a damn happy control freak.

I know ever since I've been accepted to SCAD, I've been graphic design, graphic design, graphic design. But I'm really beginning to consider that minor in writing again. It's sort of calling to me. I seriously need some more scholarships.

I got my rooming assignment for this year. I wanted Dyson House so I got Turner House, damn it all. Which means I have not one but two roommates. Joy. Kathryn and Lama. I won't even try and touch on the irony that I have a roommate named Lama. I did, however, get room #260. An even number. That has to be a slightly good sign? Maybe? Pretty please ( Read more... )

So I awoke at 7:52 this morning to Kaity serenading me with the Happy Birthday song.
She brought cookie cake.
And a buttload of quarters.
It's going to be an interesting day.

I'm angry that I never learned how to sew. I often think that if I had just learned how to carefully weave thread in and out, bridging gaps and patching tears, then maybe I would understand how to do it in real life. I would be more able to run a thread along a long distance and eventually pull everything together into a masterpiece. I'd complete ( Read more... )

This afternoon I'm driving at 90 miles per hour away from this shithole ( Read more... )

I consider myself to be pretty fearless. How that's even possible, I have no idea. I've had it pointed out to me the last week or so that I'm actually more chicken shit than the average person. I'm a little upset about this. I've always been naturally (and irrationally, mind you) pyrophobic. But then there's my intense dislike and avoidance of dogs ( Read more... )

Do you ever have a day when you're pretty sure you'd hate yourself if given the chance to meet yourself? You visualize the interaction, the judgemental comments stuck behind the other's lips. You can see the venom building under your fingernails as you plan to rip her pretty face to shreds. The satisfaction sinks over your shoulders and you're ( Read more... )