witty-remark's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - I like to fuck myself over really bad. Okay, that was great. I've just wasted an hour and royally fucked myself even more. At this rate, I should become a pornstar. I'm so stressed out I can feel the neurons in my brain giving up. They're all "stop thinking!" and I'm all "No! It's crucial that I lay awake at three in the morning worrying about U of C enrollment with sporadic flashbacks of things I did that make me hate myself!" I love how poor my writing becomes when my thoughts degenerate and I'm super tired. But then, when I write like this it mimics how I talk in my mind. Normally I write all flowery and shit; it's too much. Why do I do that? Should I wear that dress tomorrow? I think no because I have a feeling that I'll be ugly tomorrow since I'm sleeping very late. I want to save the dress for a day when I look nice. Like the face and everything. I was waiting at the bus stop today and I realized I was talking to myself. Ramble, ramble, ramble. It was really weird; I didn't even realize it. I was sitting there all alone and I snapped back and I had words on my tongue that my mouth was telling me to finish, but my brain didn't know what to say. Like I had an unfinished thought and...it was so strange. I've become one of the crazy's! I talk to myself a lot these days, it's reassuring. It's like you're never alone. What a long entry about shit-all. 1:32 a.m. - Tuesday, May. 08, 2007 |
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