This is gibberish, don't even pretend.

I'm in a funk tonight. Yesterday evening I couldn't sleep so I baked some apple cinnamon muffins. Tonight I can't sleep so I think I'm going to play some Final Fantasy VII. I don't know why I ate a Chipotle burrito when I wasn't even hungry to begin with. Why do I do things like that? I wish body weight wasn't such an issue with me. I feel like insecurities overshadow me as a human, especially when all I do is talk about them all the time. Or blog about them. Or whatever. Today, I feel really cheesy and I want to do really really really stupid things like cuddle and like, hold hands or whatever. The feeling will pass in a moment, but for the moment..I'm uncomfortable. Hm. I want to work out for a week straight, go to the beach, and call it a day. And order a Big Sleep from McDonald's. ALSO, I fucking went to purchase my Harry Potter ticket and they're all sold out. What the fuck is this nonsense, I have to go. Gargh. Wait, and the time that I needed a job still exists. And that time is right now. Also, you. You you you you you, if you could take the nearest exit out of my brain, I would really be thankful. Maybe I'd even give you an apple cinnamon muffin. Who knows. Le fin.

Dear diary.

I don't know if there's a more eloquent way to say it, so I feel like a blob. I don't even have much going on, but I feel like I just need to stop and go away. It's so lame to say that you want to go 'find yourself' but for the first moment in my life I think I actually understand what it feels like to need that. How much longer can I float around in limbo until I get sick of myself [note: already happened]. I hate that I exude this wishywashyness, and I want to be grounded in who I am. [I know, I know. It's really cheesy. But just, bear with me.] I need to interact with people who know who they are, and maybe then it'll rub off on me a little bit. Too many people I know are too content with just getting by, but I cannot do it. I cannot just float through school like a ghost, not getting any joy out of it, or continue to go to this meaningless job where I don't serve any purpose and people just constantly talk down to me. I want to make things for myself. But I don't know what or how or why and I just want to explode from all this stress. I feel so stressed out. All the time. In traffic. In my house. On the computer. Waiting for class to end. Procrastinating on essays.

Ugh, and I'm so irritated by how sappy and spineless this all is. Hemingway would be very disappointed in me. I mean. I'm also not a man so he wouldn't give a shit either way. Also he's dead literary figure, so that's also irrelevant. Blah.

What to do.

Thoughts not made for other eyes.

I'm sitting on my bed wearing red lipstick and a cowgirl shirt a la Rachel when she goes to the laundromat with Ross for the first time. I was attempting to have a photoshoot with myself, then remembered I don't live in the era of Myspace where self-portraits were acceptable. Hey. I really want to start having photoshoots again. Oh wait, that wasn't the point of this post. Anyway, I posted this earlier and then got nervous and deleted it the moment I got home from school but..I wrote this one million years ago and..well, there's this Sylvia Plath quote about how whenever you try to write something you down you can never capture it perfectly. Like, you always over or under dramatize it, and you never really get it right. This is an example of me being OH, so overdramatic. And silly. Most of it is silly. However. I have an urge to post it, so I shall. So judge me not. Especially the part where I whine about boys and get all pseudo-intellectual and insightful when it comes to Godard. Sigh. Should I stop apologizing? Probably.

Just kidding. Deleted again, lol.

Rant rant rant rant rant.

Cool, being sick with the same exact flu again.
Cool, absolutely no classes available for me.
Cool cool cool cool cool cool cool fuck.

if you go looking for hot water, don't act shocked when you get burned a little bit.

Embracing my new existential life style. I've been pretty optimistically cynical lately, but this perspective actually makes a lot of sense to me now. It's times like these I wish I hadn't made a post about Breathless so I would be able to make a post about Breathless. You know, now that it actually pertains to something.

I woke up feeling less sick than I've felt all weekend and have been so inspired to do basically everything in the universe. Literally, everything. I don't even know where to start. I have four hundred tabs open right now and I can't stay on one for more than a second before I get excited for something else, boo. Or maybe I just want to go shopping and waste all my energy there.

What an obscure post this is turning out to be.

I can't find any inspirational picture or anything so I'll just leave this here.

AKA the reason I will never be happy in life. Him being named Leonardo was enough for me. I don't know why I have the most intense love affairs with names. I don't know why I'm still typing. Yeah, blog.