me, yes, me.

this entry's dedicated to me, yes, me. completely vane, but that's what blogs are for: to coddle our fragile esteems.

okay that was unnecessarily pessimistic and melodramatic; i don't really believe that. it didn't even sound remotely good but whatever.

whatever. sounds like it should be such a hopeful word, but instead it's just, nasty. and snarky. and all that good stuff.

i'm so screwed in college.

now now darling, don't lose your head...

let the decibels shake your existance - back, in good form

Following the tradition of die-hard bad habits, here's one (one what?) dedicated to me. I like late nights because the thoughts free-flow and leave me passive. Not that I'm active during the day; pandas are more productive. My days are my thoughts, fractured with improper punctuation, pointless and overwhelmingly dull.

Inner-conversations have become frustratingly slow; for once, desk is more organized than thoughts, and on this desk are day-old earl-grey, emergency red, and ... a wet dish cloth. gross. then there's seized opportunity, signature scent of insatiable craving, and very stale coffee. ugh and Crimson rejection.

I should probably get my act together.

so, 18.

Virginia Beach

So, er uhm... anyone from the Virginia Beach area want to be friends? or um, acquaintances?

Does anyone actually live in Virginia Beach?!

I'm going to be lonely, so lonely.