I don’t know what to write about, I just know that I need to write. It has been entirely too long since I’ve sat down and wrote something that comes from the center of my weird brain, and the depths (shallows?) of my even weirder soul. So much is going on in my head… but why can’t I just sit down and write what I’m observing out? The couples in publix who go for each other’s hands when an attractive person walks by assuring that they are not looking or thinking of what they look like naked, the men who check out my tits even if I’m wearing a t-shirt from high school that is ill-fitting and dirty, and the shitty tv shows that I watch with a bottle of wine… for myself.
I just felt like I needed to write something, anything down, even if it’s just these shitty paragraphs with little depth, and little meaning. I just want to vomit what I’m thinking out on paper. How scared and excited I am for the future. The change of scenery I’ve been aching for since I came back here this semester. I’m tired of this make-believe world. The three letters that mean so much to such little people, the creepy guys who want nothing to do with you before 11PM after a few whiskey gingers, the too-nice-guys you haven’t seen since 7th who won’t get the hint that you don’t want to small talk with them via text.
That’s all. I have to go to class now, and Rachael Ryan’s on the TV Khloe Kardashian has way too white of teeth, and I’m very jealous, and I need to get more coffee and I need to clean my room.
