I just received this text message after playing some bop-it: SHALL WE PARTY HARD.

Perfect.

I want my life to be like this for the rest of the week.

So I'm coming back to my room for the first time since everything has been turned in and finished. I see 5 police cars on South St. I go to investigate and it turns out someone was hit by a car and he's still conscious, but apparently was bleeding out really bad. Other people who went to investigate: dumb boys.

Now I just feel depressed.

I'm completely done. Shots? Fun? Bop-it? I keep hearing rumors of a bop-it.

My last portfolio ever.
It's kind of my favorite too.

I bought a pizza because I am a glutton.

My mom is on food stamps. She told me I can take the card to the store and buy all the food I like.

Too bad I was raised as a foody and like organic food.

I just got the urge to take off all my clothes and lie in the grass. We should go skinny dipping again this summer.

There's this pink bike that I see around campus all the time (I first saw it through a suite window last weekend when Sarah, Krista, Katie, and I tried to find Anna which was vastly unsuccessfully). I just saw a kid riding it who doesn't look like the type of person to own a pink bicycle. He was riding away from campus. Uh oh.

Last day of homework forever! Too bad I use homework at a crutch to not think about my emotions. Tomorrow I'm going to have to deal with all that baggage that built up for the past four years while I was trying to get A's.

Replace "illegal drugs" with "homework" and this is the story of my life.

Yesterday I went to a Peoria Chiefs game against the Beloit Snappers. It was a good time. The Snappers finally won after 12 innings. 12 innings are too many innings. Especially when both teams only had 1 run at the bottom of the ninth and 2 runs at the bottom of the tenth. But then they had fireworks and they were surprisingly really good fireworks. I kept thinking they were going to end, but they just kept going! Let's going to lots of Twins games this summer, okay?

Oh and there was this guy sitting with his three daughters in front of us and they were all so nice and it made me miss being 0-6 years old when I was an only child and my dad and I did cool stuff together all the time.

I really like this poem.

Last night in my crabbiness I received this text from Katie:
Think of our lovely faces and listen to Ke$ha. That will make everything better.

I am going to wake up tomorrow and write and revise shit, because I am in the mood where I need to do that to prove things. Also, because my portfolio is due on Monday, but that is secondary. I already have enough for my portfolio. I want to write good shit and get into a good grad school and live a life of writing, in whatever capacity I can.

When someone first breaks up with me I feel sad about the loss. I miss them a lot. Then all of that turns into anger and I just cry because that's what I do when I'm angry. Except I haven't cried in a couple of weeks because I've been really busy and have all these nice people around me. But tonight I kind of had a break down. But tomorrow will be better and after that will be better. It was a relatively small break down. The kind of break down where I talked to a couple of people and told them things sucked and I was angry and they made me feel better because a lot of people are nice.

Oh fuck, I'm crying.

Kkkkrrrissstaaa is coming! hurray.

Time for another drink.

Where are all my friendssss?

I'm so bored I started drinking and cleaning my room.

I'm so bored I am about to start slightly-not-sober-dialing people.

When I get bored I drink out of wine glasses and put on lipstick.

Hanging out all alone, waiting to not be all alone. This is so sad.

I'm not really one of those writers who achieves things. I'm more one of those writers who obsesses over it, but hasn't really gotten anywhere.

Yesterday Colleen (the secretary of the PR office) offered to let me come in and work extra hours because I'm almost done with all my work and I get really bored. I came in the morning, fifteen minutes late due to alarm clock dreaming (Alison from German Club was in my dream. She didn't like my alarm) and everything seemed normal, I went and fetched the mail and things and then when I came back Karrie, head of PR, asked me to come talk with her in one of the empty offices, which was really scary, but I've never been in trouble at work, so I figured it was some minor task for me to do and I walked into the office and they had food and a present and it was so nice. I've never worked somewhere bad besides my brief stint in retail. This makes me slightly worried about the real world.

Shooting by campus! Holyshit.

Luckily at the time of the shooting I was at Duffy's or the Broadview, safe and drunk.

Then I went and set off sparklers and watched Daria and this movie Ghost World, which was crazy and the kind of movie I would have loved obsessively at about 15 and now made me think about a lot of things.

I'm in a Caroline Smith and the Good Night Sleeps sort of mood. I'm working on flash fictions and they are coming along splendidly.

Fifteen minutes of high drama: my apartment and the one next to me got emailed saying that we put a heat lamp next to the thermostat in attempts to make the ac come on, thus we were going to have to pay for the investigation. None of the people in either of these apartments own a heating lamp or have been in their apartments all day. I got very riled all and all productivity ceased. Luckily, after lots of emails the woman figured out that she had the wrong apartments.

It's the kind of hot where I appreciate an occassional cloud covering the sun.

I'm on my computer at work! Look how b.a. I am!
I ran out of things to do and everyone is on the phone and I leave in five minutes.

I feel unattractive.

Julia and I have discussed a lot this year about how fat has nothing to do with how much you weigh, but it's a feeling.

I don't always feel unattractive, but do right now, for no particular reason. Well, I guess because there are no boys around, it's not enough to keep them around, like that Beyonce song.

But I'll put on a pretty dress and actually take some time to make myself look nice tomorrow and I will like myself again.

Jesus Christ, some books are so good I wish I could love them instead of people.

Check out Good, Brother by Peter Markus

Just had my last workshop as an undergrad. I was the last one to be workshopped. I kind of want to cry except I'm really tired and have the after-workshop crabbies.

I found this article today in the Wall Street Journal about flarf poetry. Basically it found poetry by putting phrases into google search, seeing what comes out of it, and making a poem. The article compares it to da da poetry, but the results that they show make a lot more sense to me than da da poetry. It's pretty cool, you know, as cool as something can be when it's made out of google searches.

I had a dream I was in the final critique for drawing. My professor really like my pictures, something which is not actually likely to happen. I think there was a thunderstorm last night and I think I woke up during it, but I'm not entirely sure. It's my last day of undergraduate classes. Maybe I'll cry at midnight (as that is when class ends).

I just got mentioned on Chad Simpson's blog.

See how cool I am? I can namedrop all the cool professors I've had and all the neat things they write. Too bad my blog mainly centers around drinking and boys.

I really feel like doing something. Like not homework something.

There is no toilet paper in my apartment. I don't know where to go to get more. How did I go the entire school year without learning where the toilet paper in my building is?

You know it's almost graduation and you've joined a sorority when you wake up with the song that goes

"shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots everybody"

stuck in your head, but instead of the real lyrics, it's the remix you made

"sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex everybody."

I just talked about boys for like 2 hours. Really fun.

I hate endings and saying goodbye. I am awful at it. I get all sorts of attached to everyone all the time. You know how poorly I deal with break ups? That's how I am with everything, only it's milder. Why do I like any of you? This would be so much easier if I had no friends. Geeze.

I regularly cry over poems, but tonight I watched the Lost finale, all these people were balling and I was stoned face and skeptical. What is wrong with me?

I really like the new Beyonce video.

I went to sleep around 4:30AM and it is now 9:30AM and I am awake. Why can't I sleep ever? Luckily last night was good and so I am not in a crabby mood.

I am now a founding member of the Theta Nu chapter of Alpha Sigma Alpha at Knox College. I have a pin, a founders pin, a corsage, and a palm leaf to prove it. The palm leaf was pretty much the best part, except for the phoenix founders pin.

Oh look, I'm in Catch.

I had a dream that I was back at a party and this girl, who does not exist, was really wasted, and I said, "What are you doing? Installation is tomorrow and we have to be there at 8:30" and she went "Woooooo" and passed out. I promptly woke up after this, panicking that I was late only to realize that it was 6:30AM. Needless to say I have not been able to get back to sleep.

Dear Sisters,
It's the night before installation and I just want to say that I'm really glad I stuck around for nationals. I appreciate all of you more than I ever thought I would. This term you've helped me through some shitty stuff. I felt shitty today and I went and sat with Sarah Colangelo and Katie who were tabling and it made me feel so much better and they were just sitting and tabling. We've had so much to do this week and secretly I like it, because I like spending time with you. It's hard for me to say stuff like this, which I know sounds silly, because I say stuff like this all the time, but I really mean it. I need to go to sleep because we need to be up very early, but really, I appreciate almost all of you fully. There are people in the organization that I've fallen out with, but that is what happens. That is the choice that people make. I am not a sorority girl. People who knew me before and people who know me now all agree on this, but I'm glad I joined and I'm glad I stayed.
That is all.

Please disappear off this campus. After weeks of not seeing you anywhere, you seem to be everywhere today.

Thaaaank youuu.

Being in a sorority involves a lot of outfit changes.

Look at

my senior

portfolio.

In my dream I was in a mail and I screamed, "I want to punch you in the face!" and then knocked over a bench.

I miss houses that aren't mine. I think about being home and I imagine myself somewhere that isn't my house, but a tv house, somewhere with cream colored carpets, big couches, and a big flat screen.

Does anyone else like the taste of tums? I really like the chalky texture.

I feel that awful tingly sensation all over.

In my final letter to my professor I wrote about how much happier I am right now than I used to be. But I'm kind of sad, right now that is. I am reading Michael Dickman and he always makes me sad. I just read the poem "My Dead Friends Come Back." Here's an excerpt. I don't even know who I want to come back. Just someone. I've been lonely.

Pin-dressing all week long.

I haven't been really into thinking lately. Sometimes people try to have serious conversations with me and it doesn't go very well. It means that somewhere inside I am not doing well.

Also, I want to meet lots of writers so that I can name drop.

Why are the Gizmo workers so mean to me? I am so fragile. So prone to upset. In my writer's forum introduction, Laura used the word "vulnerable." I think it was an appropriate choice.

Tests are really dumb.


Ssssseriously.

Do you ever have those moments where you don't recognize yourself?

The stress hive is on my face. It emerges when boys break up with me or I have a lot of work to do. In this case it's the work. Good thing I'm almost done with college. Maybe in graduate school I will get so stressed out I will actually get multiple hives.

The only thing I have left to do for my portfolio is write a letter. It is 365 pages. I am going to buy a binder for it tomorrow. I felt like it should've been harder. Why can I do this? Why can I do large amounts of work days ahead of time, yet people affect me so terribly? Why are people the only thing that I care about? Why do I write shit like this in my blog? Why have I been watching Lost for like four hours a day? Why do I think I can finish watching Lost in time for the finale? Why am I crazy?

So I saw this person today and it really rattled me. We both looked away. I'm not sure if we both looked away in the way that I looked away, like I looked away, but was still aware of the passing, aware of this person's looking away or if they looked away wholly. I know it was deliberate on both counts.

It just makes me so sad.

Figure drawing is really neat. Who wants to find figure drawing in the Twin Cities with me?

My head feels really awful. I am sickly again. Maybe bronchitis again. Good thing I did homework from 3-9pm so that now I can sit around and watch Lost and eat dinner.

Plan to make more friends: Start following everyone's blog. Particularily blogs that use all symbols in their titles, because that is the hip thing to do. Comment a lot, with clever things.

I've been reading Michael Dickman a lot the past two days. He keeps making me cry. I keep feeling like I understand what he's saying except none of my friends are dead or addicted to heroin. When I sit down, I never sit on hypodermic needles.

I have a hard time imagining other people being sad. When people tell me they've cried I think, "Really, you cry?" I have an especially hard time imagining boys being sad. I can picture sad faces and then the scene shifts to them playing video games. Apparently I have no empathy. Really good.

I just drank cough syrup out of the bottle. Yes.

End of the day page count for senior portfolio so far: 175 pages
Due date: 1 week

I want to lie on a beach reading a really fast book. The kind people don't think during.

I've longed for normalcy lately. I want to look different. I want to be conventionally good looking. I want to date someone who is conventially good looking and like sports. I want a job where I can come home and have taco night.

Being an emotional fuck up who is attracted to emotional fuck ups gets tiring.

My throat started hurting slightly yesterday morning. Now it is completely raw and I woke up at 4 in the morning because it hurt so bad. This occurs, like most sicknesses, the week I have to finish my portfolio, take part in sorority installation, and turn in flash fictions to be workshopped, and have a German barbeque to eat our food we never ate camping. Lovely.

I am such a lame-o.

I saw "The Compleat Wks of Willm Shkspr (Abridged)" tonight and I liked it way more than I normally like Shakespeare. Now I am going to get into bed and watch Lost until I fall asleep. I wish I was coooool.

Whoa dreams, I am not going to listen to you. Dreams are like the residue that stays in the shower. I don't really ever want to see it, but I know that's it there and then sometimes I can see it and it's really gross.

On the bright side, I'm going dog walking today!

I practiced being a dancer a lot tonight.

Realized I alienate all of my male friends.

Talked about German with some people I never really talk to outside.

Considered why I am not a dancer.

Think I should be, because then I would be thin and atheletic.

But oh look, I'm famous.

Okay Okay I probably should not post about punching people in the face.

Look at my dad's facebook status: Tasha has sailed through college, and has been awarded a Fullbright scholarship to teach English in Austria. Fantastic! She must have learned from her father that Grateful Dead concerts and war demonstrations are a major distraction.

My dad is so much cooler than I am.

This is my new favorite thing to say:

I WANT TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE.

I am not even talking to anyone anymore. It's just empowering, as someone who is very anti-violent to say this repeatedly.

As a clarifier for my last statement: I have never actually punched anyone in the face and probably never will. My brother used to beat me up and I would lie there passively. This is just something I say to make myself feel better.

I want to punch you in the face.
You know who you are.
You read this.
I've never dated you or had a possibility of dating you or liked you in that way.
I want to punch you in the face.

Why you gotta be causing drama all the time?

Ssssserrrriously.

My professor said my 43 page intro was really good, which is really super. I'm good at being in school. I'm not sure I know how to not be in school. I want a 4.0 for this term. This is a silly goal.

My professor compared me to some hipster writers today in class, which I thought was pretty cool as I am not trying to be a hipster writer in the least. This woman has a blog and seems to live in Minneapolis. She does not have a wikipedia article. How do people learn about other people without wikipedia?

I want to start a fake blogging persona and then advertise my fake blog like crazy and get everyone to follow it. Doesn't that sound fun?

Why does waking up still hurt?

I just got an email from the American Cancer Society titled "Tobacco Bill Signed into Law," but I thought it said, "Taco Bill Signed into Law."

Tacos are so tasty.

I'm not really over it and it's really dumb.

Things that happened in my life this evening:
I drew for a long time. I started on one of my drawings for my final project in drawing I. It's a still life of a lot of alcohol, knitting, a scarf, and some book.
I watched some Lost.
I went to Duffy's with Kara again, it was fantastic and guess who shows up? Ex-boyfriend! And Sandy! I didn't look at him, I just talked with Sandy, but according to Kara, he was staring at me. What does that mean? Does that mean he feels bad? I sure fucking hope so. I was pretty drunk when he saw me, so I was happy.
Kara and I walked around and this super drunk guy tried to come home with us, it was really fun.
Then we went to the Gizmo and talked about things
Now I am home and still drunk.
But really, what does ex-boyfriend staring at me in a bar mean? Does it mean he feels bad? I need to talk to people about this, but no one is around to talk to it about. It makes me happy for some twisted fucking reason. I don't know, whatever.

I just played a computer game for 20 minutes. Fuck, I hate computer games. I forgot just how much.

I have been in Kaldi's for hours. I need more to do on Tuesdays. Only two left though.

I avoid the caf at certain times, because I don't want to see some people.
This is dumb.

Who wants to go to Jazz Night with me on Thursday?

Went to sleep at 2, woke up at 9:30 unprompted. How sad. Had dreams about people I haven't thought about in awhile. Also had dreams about people I've thought about a lot recently.

I'm kind of sad and I'm kind of happy. I'm not sure why about either. Okay, that's a lie, I know why for both.

This is unrelated, but I want to be the cute girl in a band, except I don't know any instruments.

Drama makes things kind of exciting, even if it's slightly stressful.

I want a personal trainer. I think working out would be fun if I had someone to tell me what sort of activities to do and demonstrate things for me.

My Writer's Forum went really well. I appreciated how many friends showed up. I've been feeling like I have a lot of people in my life lately. It's really nice.

I want to punch someone.

I just told my mother that I'm in a sorority and that for a bit I dated a frat boy.

She said: It's good you're graduating so you won't date anymore frat boys. What kind of sorority are you? You aren't in the slut sorority are you?

Several possible memoir titles:

Drinking, maybe writing.
Drinking, maybe showering.
Drinking, eating.

I have not taken a shower since Thursday night. I am dirty.

I think joining a sorority was one of the better choices I made in college.

Weird, right?

But really, it's really good right now.

Katie posted some really nice things this evening.

I miss friends at home.

I like friends at school.

I hate boyd at school.

I love Matthew Dickman and this why all my relationships go badly, because i love a bad idea.

Two things Dan Savage said that I really liked:

After sex, the guy rolls over and goes to sleep and the girl is lying there, she has to tinkle and she's awake for another forty-five minutes, just lying there while the guy is sleeping. Why would she want to have vaginal sex?

-I really like vaginal sex, I just don't like the awake while the other person is sleeping part.

People know their kinks when they're in their prime. For guys that's when they are in their teens. For women it's when they are in their 30's.

-I don't think I know my kinks yet. People ask me what I like and I say "everything."

I have vague memories of a thunderstorm.

I also dreamt that I stayed up all night long. I was at a club and this boy who I don't like very much started dancing up on me. All of the English professors were there. Then we wandered around castle ruins looking for something.

I do like myself. I do like the people around me. I do appreciate them and I know I've been negative and self-deprecating lately, but it's not because of these things. I'm just tired of feeling like shit because of boys. I know it's dumb, I know I just shouldn't get involved in these things or feel like I do about these things. When I say I'm not that pretty, I don't mean I think that I'm ugly, I just mean that I don't think I'm pretty in the manner that boys find attractive or that boys want to use. I just want someone to stick around. I don't do things lightly. I decided to be a writer when I was eight years old and I'm still doing it. I was a German minor and now I'm going to Austria. When I like someone, I like them. I think about it first, but then I put my faith into a person and I'm tired of that being broken. I don't want to be an angry person. I just want to like people. I want to like myself. But I keep questioning both of those things. I hate that I'm this girl that gets pursued and then gets left and I wonder what that makes me, if that makes me anything.

I get my revenge in stupid spiteful little ways, like onstage in front of the entire Greek community.

I like labels. A lot. I like to label myself. I really like it when other people label me. Today I saw this girl riding a bike and she just looked like such a fucking hipster and I realized in all my recent sorority behavior I forgot that other sorts of people existed. My identity has been bothering me as of late. I think it was dating someone so outside of myself that made me question it. He labeled me with things I wouldn't expect. He was surprised I was in girl scouts. It's all very confusing and I'm not sure if it really matter as it's rather inconsequential. I will still be the same, with or without a label. Just goddamn, I would love some sort of label.

Look I'm a sorority girl!
This is like a joke that never gets old.

Also, my Writer's Forum is Monday.

Come hear me read, eat cheese, and those things that are shaped like cigars.

4pm, the Alumni Room.

I was doing so well too and then I woke up at 6:30.

I want to punch you. Not really. What I really want is to have a conversation where I say all the stupid shit that repeats in my head. Or I want you to be gone from my head. Either way works. I am never good at the second. I think about people for years. Not in a pining manner, but I just think about them. Like "remember when this one thing happened that one time." I write poems. I don't like to show people that I've had things with (I wanted to say ex-lovers, but that seemed really silly) my poetry, because some of it is really blatently about them. Even people that only existed in my life for a little while. Like this person. I think it doesn't help that it's Greek Week and we see each other, we can hear each other speaking, but we ignore each other.

I wish I were appealing for a long period of time and people could have a sustained liking of me. That would be nice. I made my goal of dating someone and now I want to have sustained dating and liking of someone. Except I'm going to Austria, so not really. It just doesn't feel like I am going to Austria, so I keep thinking about life as if I were going to be here forever.

I can no longer deal with politics. I don't like to talk about it, read about it, watch tv shows about it. I just can't care anymore. It takes too much effort. This completely goes against everything I've ever believed, but I will continue to privately support my idealized marxist world where everyone is happy and eats good food and makes art or whatever the fuck they want to do all the time.

I have a secret desire to be married forever and own a minivan and have a crew of little blonde children. I'm not sure why I want blonde children. I think it's because when my brother was little and blonde he was idealized.

I went to sleep really late, not sober, and I still woke up before my alarm went off feeling not happy.

To the boys that read this: this is a dumb question, but when you lose people does it hurt? Do you miss them? You can answer anonoymously, I just watch other people hurt, watch myself hurt, because we lose people and the people we lose just don't seem to care.

I had a really good night. We lost at trivia, but I went to a bar with a friend and we had a couple pitchers of beer to ourselves and it took me a long time to spell pitchers, so that means it was a good night and I wasn't sad even though I talked about things that normally make me sad and I felt like people are nice and fantastic again even though I am angry at people for making me sad.

In the Olympics, I have a tendency to like the losers more than the winners. Other things this applies to: boys, my sorority participating in Greek Week.

I'm in the Science and Math library for the first time in college. It's very quiet and very empty.

Working on my t-shirt burn.

I look super sorority girl today and I kind of like it.

I don't know who I'm thinking to right now. I should revise the story I wrote first year, The Ubiquitous Boy.

Prose Poems

Here are some prose poems/flash fictions:

Tsunami
I had a dream about a tsunami, but that’s not the important part. The important part is when we got up to the tower and I still told you I didn’t want you to hold me. I’m not sure who you were and eventually we got up and watched people out the window, dying.

The Things that Leave
I think about the things that leave and the time I was twelve and asked my dad about the meaning of life and he said a lot of people have killed themselves asking that question. The Polly Pocket company stopped making their dolls so small because little children would swallow them and they would be lost. In elementary school a Native American man wearing a feathered headdress came and told us that nothing is ever really lost, things just go elsewhere. At the time it made sense, but all he really talked about was things I couldn’t see anyways, like things we emit when we start fires. I should’ve asked him about bones.

We all know I am talking about your leaving, but we’re acting as if I’m not. I saw you, up in the air. You were sitting next to a pretty English girl and I got stuck next to the large man leaking out of his seat. We watched movies without each other, predicting that would be how it was after you left.

My grandmother and my dog died four months apart. My dog lives in a cardboard box that used to be in the living room, but I haven’t seen it awhile. My grandmother and I weren’t even close when she was alive. I cannot help but compare the two. Two years later when my grandfather died, we dumped him out of a boat and into the water. It was said that the sun hit his body as he entered and created a swimming form, but I wasn’t in the boat, couldn’t see into the water. The Native American man would talk about how now he was in the water with the fishes, which I think was the point really.


Figure Drawing 2
I call myself a feminist, but in figure drawing my people have no faces. Only smudged breasts and accentuated hips and I see for the first time how I am seen.

Up There We Wouldn't Be Like This
He says, I want to go live on top of a mountain. She says, Why and can I come with? He says, no, because then it wouldn’t really be a mountain. She says, define the word mountain. He says, mountain has the same definition of everything else: continuous and cyclical. She says, when my mother was getting surgery on her cancer, I met a boy who got drunk going down a river and driving home ran into a semi and became a paraplegic. He says, what does that have to do with anything? She says, in the winter it was snowing and our legs formed caves in the white cliffs. There is something desperate about bodies being close in the cold. A matter of survival that doesn’t exist in the summer, when we pull apart, sticky. He says, on a mountain, the height affects everything, including cooking time and temperature. Up there, we wouldn’t be like this. She says, the thing about traveling down a shallow, narrow creek is that you hit things. Logs slide up against your backside that rests in the water. If you’re not careful you’ll hit the trees that dangle down. In some part the water is too shallow to drift and you have to stand and walk across the slippery rocks. I lost a shoe doing this.

I'm excited to go home. I don't even know who will be around this summer. But I'm excited.

I went to a cabin in my dreams. Somewhere I got wounded.

I've become the friend that falls asleep on couches at 10 pm.

I want to say to all of them: I could say so many awful things about you, places that no one should go. I would probably start with the sex and move onto things in the brain. But even though all those things are true, I don't really mean it. I'm just sad that you were so shitty to me and I'm sad that I've gotten used to being sad, that I have to cope. I wonder what happened to me to make me so fucked up when my life has really been rather pleasant.

I tried to write about feminism and my writing and instead I wrote about the time I was cat-called in class in Italy and the teacher said I looked like a naked nymph.

There are so many people in the library and they are all wearing the same shirt as me.

I am undecided about how I feel about Greek Week. It's my second one, but last year I managed to not go to most things.

lllllibrary.

Someone at the table next to me just said: this is why feminism is a morally bankrupt movement. He was refering to his girlfriend drawing things on his arm.

I just thought: why am I so tired, I slept all the way until 8 this morning. I wish I could sleep.

I feel better right now and I think, "Did I really feel that bad?" And I know that yes, I did, and I know that tomorrow I will wake up and feel shitty and Friday will be the worst, but right now I feel better and like things in my life like writing prose poems with Michelle and finishing puzzles and drawing and watching Lost and going out for dinner with friends and getting texts from other friends and people responding to things I say to them and all sorts of shit like that. I feel like posting a picture, but instead I am going to eat pizza because I eat pizza everyday now.

I managed to sleep until 8:30. This is progress. Pain has moved to my neck, which means it will dissipate soon.

Yeah, I'm just going to eat the rest of that ice cream while I watch tv in bed, sober on a Saturday night.

Did I make a post earlier about how I used to be more fun? I vaguely remember doing this, but then again, I vaguely remember a lot of things that never really happened.

I used to go out on Saturday nights. This is no longer true.

Also, I was feeling good until a friend of a friend started talking about boys and feeling shitty about boys and I don't feel awful, because the thing is, really, I didn't tell people about it because it was ridiculous and embarassing and I know that's mean, but fuck that, it's mean to dump me for your fraternity. I just miss people. I'm so good at that, missing people. I get into habits, patterns and when those are broken it hurts and it doesn't mean I wanted that much, I never want that much, it just seems like that, always. I am too sincere, eager. But really I am nervous because I am scared because I cannot deal with feelings and life is easier when I don't care about anyone that can hurt me like that. I'm so tired of being hurt like that, just stop, please? I'm only kind of pretty and only kind of nice, I'm not worth it, so just don't hurt me, okay?

Somethings:

If you can't tell, I've liked my sorority a lot lately.

Other things:

At least I'm not the one hiding.