Ahh. My Coke and Doritos bag are heavenly now, but next weekend if (whenn, you know it's when) I lose some clothes, I have the feeling I am not going to be pleased, haha. Oh well, I suppose I'll just have to run a little bit extra tomorrow and NOT buy the frosted pretzel for supper at work?
Anyhow.. I almost don't like writing in a blog, unless it's something I feel was written well; I always feel so pathetically self-centered and immature whenever I read my entries after reading anyone else's blog. It just seems to me like adults always have something more important to talk about than their fluctuating waistlines. And I know, I'm not an adult, I still have plenty of time, but I just feel.. petty, I suppose, and there is also this overwhelming urge to delete the word "like" from my vocabulary.. haha. I feel as if my whole life revolves around the banal little details of things that don't matter anyways. And I want what I say to have meaning. I want people to listen to me. I guess I'm just not sure that I have anything to say.
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Where those dreams go.
Make yourself (BELIEVE).
I know it hurts. But it's life, and it's real. And sometimes it fucking hurts, but it's life, and it's pretty much all we got.
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