Dear Diary

I have so many pictures that I want to post but my internet won't work long enough to load them and it upsets me. Probably the biggest reason that I blog is so that I have a place to put pictures, and if my internet doesn't work, then fuck. it's annoying. I feel like posting old diary entries but I think I am too embarassed to do that. Maybe I'll find something. I have had a diary for as long as I can remember, but I've never been totally honest when I write in it, because I am always scared that someone will read it, so I disguise peoples names or other things like that. Ok here is a diary entry that I am totally editing because it's super sooky and emotional. This was a couple of years ago. Keep in mind that I am way cooler now than when I was when I wrote this.

I am constatnly struggling with what I should be doing- am I too nice or not nice enough? Do I like myself of not? Do I deserve anything or not? Sometimes I feel like I am worth nothing- I am ugly, fat and stupid. I am annoying, obnoxious. My cheeks are too wide. My skin is bumpy. My hair is too thin and it's frizzy unless I use a straightener. I rely on other people for fashion advice, because I am cluless. I drool when I sleep and I look like shit in the morning. My armpits stink sometimes. I don't shave my legs that often and I only recently began plucking my eyebrows. Sometimes my tongue feels too big for my mouth. My throat will probably close over someday. My tonsils are huge. Energy balls really do freak me out. I am addicted to sunflower seeds. All of those things make me hate myself sometimes. But sometimes, I feel as though I am beautiful. I walk down the street and think that everyone is looking at me and wishing they knew me because I am so pretty. This pen feels nice on the paper. I think people know that I am a wonderful person and they can tell when they stare- uncontrolably- into my soulful eyes. I have a perfect body and my smile intrigues all that see it.

I'll stop there. I think EMO is the correct word to describe that. I'll tell you about energy balls. Jill and James were in this puppet show thing and part of it was that there was a guy that would come every week and teach them tai chi. he taught them how to make 'energy balls.' i'm not exactly sure the purpose of energy balls but james would make them all the time by moving his hands aroung an imaginary ball in front of him. I would imagine it to look like fire, if it wasn't invisible. They were supposed to be made of positive energy. Anyway, he would make them and pretend to throw them at me and it really made me feel wierd because - fuck i sound crazy right now- it would freak me out because i would imagine that he was concentrating all of his negative energy into a tiny little space and then throw it at me so that I would absorb it. It made me feel the same way I feel about ferrets and other rodents. Which is "not good" if you are wondering.

When we were in junior high, my best friend and I were fucking wierdos and we would go to the bathroom and get a bit stoned off of my asthma puffers. we weren't really stoned, we would just take a bunch of puffs off of it and it would raise our heart rate and we'd shake a little. we called this 'cold.' so if we were depressed for whatever reason and decided to take like four or five tylenol because we couldn't deal with the pain and heartache, we'd come to school and tell the each other that we were 'cold' that day. then we would write eachother notes with either jewel or marilyn manson lyrics to describe how we felt. we were INDIVIDUALS.

Seven years of bad luck. Awesome. Just broke a mirror. And it was a pretty mirror too. FUCK. I hope I don't have bad luck. Actually, I think luck is a dumb concept. I don't think that people specifically have bad luck or good luck. I think that good things and bad things happen to everyone... I don't know. I guess I just find it hard to understand the concept of luck. Whatever. I hope like my love ones don't die because I broke a mirror or something.