April 2008.

Happy Friday night. I'm on the couch, were I've been all day, watching a movie with Mary Pat. I'm very thankful for friends who will be lame with me when I can't function correctly. This'll teach me to go out & be ridiculous on Thursday nights.

Well school's back. Here we go. I say the same thing every semester: start fresh, get my shit straight, go to every class all the time, same old story. Then I remember how bad I am with peer pressure. Shoot.

I told myself I wouldn't write anything too personal on this thing, but I rarely do what I tell myself I'm gonna. Bottom line--9 months ago, I just want everyone to know that I was the happiest love-sick puppydog in all of the Clarksville, Tenny. You'd think after all this time, the two of us would stop having the same stupid fight. I hear the same thing over & over & over from him & Lord knows how much I want to believe him... & how much, in some weird way, I kinda do. I know he's changed. That's obvious. I want things to workout. I want him to be THAT guy. But I'm understandably stand-offish. He understands, too. I don't know if it's worth it. I've spent so much time crying & wanting him to be how he is right now that I don't know if that is what I want anymore. It may be, though. I don't know. I don't know a lot of things. I love him.

Anyways, that's all. Mary Pat can't work this DISH I have, it's time for me to step in.

1998.

I never feel interesting enough to make my life public. This just felt like the thing to do. I'm the bandwagon type, obviously.

I have 4 months left of college, let's do some documentin'!

I shared some stories and a few of my 12-year-old self's journal entries with a best friend the other night. I immediately began feeling so bad for that poor girl. I would write poems about marrying aliens and how much I thought my father was disappointed in me. When I say I was "feeling bad" for myself at the age of 12, I really mean I was laughing my ass of at how lonely, weird, slightly eclectic and different I really was. I'm not sure where I'm going with this but I am going to find that alien poem & post it here the second I get a chance. It may be the best piece of work I (or anyone else, for that fact) have ever done.

I'm gonna stop. I just don't like empty spaces.