i want a lloyd dobler.

today felt like the grass might rise up through my bare feet.
like it might have something to tell me. but instead it asked, "oh tell me your secrets"

i couldn't differentiate them from the sky.

oh i've been waiting for the phone to ring and it refuses. i think its given up on me. i've been sitting here batting my eyelashes at a recluse : a wreck of a girl, she really is. i've been lying here twirling self-repulsion around my finger.

i wrote an essay about my mom and i, riding in our blue ford tempo, singing to the beatles when i was nine. and i told her that i'd rather be smart than pretty, and i was glad i had ended up that way. she said you have to be smart to be beautiful, and beautiful beats pretty any day. i was beautiful when i was nine.

this f.l. wright research paper could not be a bigger pain in my butt. frustrationfrustrationfrustration

your s 's fall like dresses around my ankles

i want to feel like 74 degrees and sunny

i don't.

(shallow) realizations:
i have the coolest shoes in town. mhmm

and boys stink, i know it and i'm over it, yess.

i want to write something mean. something mean

iwish the rain would go away

it's washing all of my sense down the drain.