"When we can no longer dream, we die" -Emma Goldman

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

anxiety/whatever i think of

I hate it when you get anxious and there's this huge pit in the bottom of your stomach. You wanna commit hari-kari to get rid of it, but then it's still there and you end up looking like the kid in Tropic Thunder. You know? I think i'm supposed to say something like...This is my blog! Read it bitches!!!
but i dont feel like being perky, despite that the Bangles are blaring from my ladybug ipod thingy. Nope, I am all cynical today. Until dinner. We are having these DELISH skillet pizzzas my dad makes. IN A SKILLET!! that means minimal clean-up. that means more time watching AI. and being a loser with my mom singing along. DONT JUDGE
i gtg do homework
ew X2
*whispers* help....meee....
-peanut butter

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