(no subject)
Somehow a thought of 'so strange i remember you' seems appropriate here.
I've been raped of my writing skills by (self-) medicinally induced lethargy.
I'm starting over as well as going back to my roots.
It's sooo Stephanie. Sitting here in my hospital bed bouncing up and down to thrice, typing on open diary while watching a bit of fox news repeating their breaking news over and over.
I appear as though I've had my throat removed. I feel as though I've had my heart and lungs removed. It's crazy here. You can be wimpering in pain and the nurse will come in and tell you to 'deep breathe'. Where are the ones that put morphine on the IV hanger and let me be entertained for the rest of the evening. this oxycodone cocktail gets less stronger daily. They dont tell ya, but I know what I is talking about. I hurrrt. Pain score - 8/10 :( Poor Stephanie.
I've become the town favorite. People like me, they just do. The real me, unbound of seaweed, is just a goofy dork like everyone else. Sharp, sharp as a tack I've been told. Good looking too, though I've gained about ten pounds and now my thighs touch.
Since we last met I've met dustin, became a drug addict, smoked pot, found a bit of confidence, posted n00dz, lost weight, gained weight, been in and out of tampa general more times than one can count on their fingers and toes, made a myspace, deleted it, lost friends, switched schools, been kicked out of my house. I've grown up a bit, even cut my hair.
I'm going to look back at this in a few monthes and laugh at how bad a writer I am.