I've had this journal for a year and a half now, and the time has come to move on. I will resurface eventually, perhaps taking some of you to a new journal, but this one will be deleted soon.

See you around. ^__^

My mom was going on about my grandfather and how he was an insomniac and an alcoholic and used to drive around all night long and she sounded scared and she said I remind her of him and the way I stutter and I feel tired and depressed and a loneliness down to the marrow and I need to get out of here soon.

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Clickieclickie.

SEVENTY TWO HOURS AND COUNTING, BITCHES

Tell me a story.

No idea what the title means. I typed S and that came up. Tee hee.

Today was kind of hellish, but I'm coo' now!

Books Bought at the Used Book Store
The Crucible by Arthur Miller
Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller
Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller
Nine Stories by J. D. Salinger ( Read more... )

I like the ocean because he rolls his Rs and I can't.

I'm in a library in North Wildwood.

Last night, I dyed my hair some shade of orange-pink-thing. (Gone in 8-10 washes, one hopes.)

I haven't slept in three days.

SO THIS IS WHAT CRAZY FEELS LIKE

to leave

for

the shore

I HAVEN'T SLEPT

I would like to sleep.

my head hurts

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?!