|Friday, March 29th, 2002|
2:57a - I Correct Myself, I Mean All The Time
The good boys: they're either gay or taken.
The bad boys: trick you into believing they are good, then ruin your life.
I am still in ungodly high spirits. I talked to Lindsay and Mya, and Jessica and Chris came over. They woke me up and I was frightened of the light.
I'm supposed to be cleaning my rheum, but I am too busy being obsessed with LJ. It is crack. It is super-crack now that I have a paid account again.
So the Los Angelians are expecting me this weekend and that is a relief.
"Tell him to stop trying to steal my six-letter girl rhymes with covers. My prom date, sucka."
Prom! I love Bjork. Oh, who am I kidding, I love everyone. I am so happy that I am posting nonsense.
Livejournal: You will love it all to hell when you know it all too well. This is true. LJ is crack. CRACK I TELL YOU.
Ok, I'm being obnoxious with the pictures, I'll stop.
I recruited some lj'ers this week, too. Like Stacy. She is from Concord. <3 Concord <3 I have so much fun when I am there. Like Andy's! The spot Mya and I sit into the wee morning hours. She eats grilled cheese and I eat pancakes, every time. The lady there gave us stickers. Little things like that are what make life worth it. Don't sweat the details is the shittiest cliche ever! The details are what make you human.
My lips are almost healed. I am proud. Yay!
That's the last one (for this entry) I promise.
I love this thing: I was especially shocking makes me do something beautiful coloured glasses; hang out of people to say: that morbid for the same time we still together and gets that man. But that I forgot. I found my socks; master of them; really care of hand this sucks: she's supposed to get one: another one. I want met In grade. And decided I keep it, was he calls me; paint free because it's royal purple suit!
I never want this beauty to end.
current mood: grateful
(1 comment |BUH)
4:51a - Masochistic Post
My only condolence is that tomorrow I'm getting some free pens.
Why do they call it applesauce?
Bobcat Goldthwait is funny because he lies all the time.
Heather Locklear was in Disneyland with her husband and child on April 17th, and I sometimes wonder if she is there now.
"Fingernails are scary."
There is a big difference between stupid people and crazy people.
No one can understand the joy of pulling someone's jacket strings until you do it serially.
I made him feel bad by saying, "I want an icon" and it was a dirty trick!
To speak of the things you wish to accomplish is only to fail and then have everyone, including yourself, realise how big of a fool you actually are.
Can you fry rice without the vegetables?
I could make it blonde if I had some goddamn bleach and an orange julius.
I am going to go have a bowl of soup now!
You know what? My fingernails are all crimpy.
I have two crimpy fingernails.
Skinny people eat enough to where they don't get fat, but they're still alive.
I went to the zoo and saw this elephant defecating and it was pretty disgusting.
I've been listening to sad songs a lot lately and I think it's making bad things out of my soul.
Last year Christina and I keyed the mantra "Crispin Glover is my lover"
If I write something based on an event of my life, I find it being too personal and me not wanting to release it to the eyes of anyone unless it is void of my name, and on the other hand, if I just write and make things up as I go as pure spin-offs, it becomes bullshit that is chaos on the page, nothing connecting and therefore, nothing sparking.
Does that person have a problem with english its hella broken or are they retarded coz they're not foreign mistakes?
I just had my first experience with real laughter. Stefan made me laugh so hard that I had tears coming out of my eyes.
A lot of responsibility in a pair of ringing ears if you believe, eh?
I don't want people to treat me like I'm nothing.
She knows she's the victim and she's ok with it.
And just for everyone's information, there is nothing wrong with pedophiles, as long as they are male. I mean what the hell is a grown woman gonna do with a little boy that she can't do with a man. If you want to ask the question "What is a grown man gonna do with a little girl that he can't do with a woman?" then you are opening a can of worms the size of Texas. The possibilities are endless. Ask any straight pedophile.
We want to keep our eyebrows plucked to perfection and never have to worry about stray hairs.
We don't want them to see the freckles that are starting to show because the weather has been sunny.
What is the purpose of anything that will cause pain in such a way?
You know what my favourite thing to say is? "But we have the same mother." Don't ask.
I think everything is starting to crumble again. I will line them up and count to ten.
Just to see how the world responded to one meager little girl, eyes glowing bright with dreams of reaching out and touching someone.
And just to let you know, my hair IS naturally blonde, just because I'm not some Children of the Corn towhead doesn't mean I have fucking brown hair.
Here I stand, to tell the truth. My hair is tangled and my eyes are wild with the freedom they have seen. I want to crouch onto all fours and leap onto something, anything that will hold me. To be nurtured is pleasure; abandoned, torture. No one will ever know what makes these pale cheeks flush, or these eyes lose their glow. Dull and dying, or dull and dead. That is all, I am all I ever will be.
Hello my name is Hell I hate you.
current mood: weird
(6 comments |BUH)
8:45p - I Used To Love Him, Now I Don't Even Miss Him
My head is all cloudy. Full of bees! Maybe it's the headache. Maybe it's the thought that people are jumping ship. It could be the fact that I'm still in awe of the events of late.
Things change so fast. He said he was envious of the fact that I can achieve euphoria without being on any drugs. "You are lucky, Katie."
I don't feel lucky. I feel sedated, hollow, throbbing. Not that I'm unhappy. I just feel odd. Like I just came out of a tomb (or a womb, for that matter) that was suffocating me with its fluid, and now my limbs are all sore and I'm just discovering what it's like to live as a normal person. Maybe it's because that days old explody happiness is gone.
Whoever keeps calling my machine and not leaving a message, be warned that I am out for your blood. "Don't hurt me, I'm just a fetus!"
I just wanna be by your side. Take you on a rock-a-bye, think about it all the time. This is what a come-down feels like.
I want that stuff that hurts my teeth, I can't remember what it's called right now. They sometimes put it in ice cream, and that's the only way I can handle its flavour, but then it hurts my teeth, and I don't know why I want it.
I feel like a horrible person. I've been in some delusional state for the past couple of days that I was so pre-occupied with the love I felt that I didn't notice how much I loathed other things.
Love me. I will love you back. The trip to Los Angeles is looking more and more impossible, and I think I'm just gonna stay home and tape Zim tonight and not go anywhere.
It's all come full-circle. I'm back where I was during the summer of Mike and Mya. I'm holed up in my room all day while the world is passing me by. This time, however, people know what's going on because of this place.
Maybe next time they won't be so lucky.
Oh, and I just wanted to blow an extra-special kiss to Johnny for making my morning brighter. You make me feel so special.
current mood: tiles