You make me want all that 1950s, June Cleaver, apron wearing, apple pie baking, doting housewife and mother bullshit. Damn. Damn you for changing me into something I never wanted to be in the best way I ever could have imagined.

I'm a different person. I don't like her.

And I don't know how to get back to the girl I did.

I will never miss that damn place.

Calm the fuck down.
Finish my English portfolio.
Get to know Pedro again.
Study for the Gay Lit, Conflict Resolution, and Socia Psychology finals.
Be less of a freak.
Finish packing for Salt Lake City.

I don't think college is for me. I love it, but my body does not.

I wish I had the resources to keep them as my own and love all of them. Then they would be safe. Then they wouldn't cry out of fear. That way they wouldn't have to be so resilient. Then they would not wish their young lives away to see their siblings in heaven.

If I have the capacity to love that much, I know the rest of the world does.

I think I'm deleting my livejournal account. Or at least not posting anymore. No one cares. Not that I expect anyone to. I don't really read any of your posts anymore. And I think myspace sucks, so...goodbye to blogosphere!

I feel too much.

I just too a quiz that told me it is somewhat likely that I have no soul.

This place is driving me insane. Killing me. I need to get out. Out. Out! It's smothering me. I can't breathe.

I got hit on tonight.

Hell yeah.
You scored 52 bookishness and 52 kinkiness!
You love books, you're down with the kink...you'd almost definitely
have sex in the library. Find a partner, find a good spot...and go for
it.

My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
( Read more... )

The following is supposedly an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term. The answer by one student was so profound that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well ( Read more... )