Reading your old LiveJournal posts is way worse than looking at that picture of yourself as a freshman with a bad perm. Your words look into the truth of your little emo heart, that perm was just a bad decision that you’ll grow out of. Collected here are the anonymous journals of your youth brought forth from the depths of LiveJournal and Xanga. Instead of mashing them all together I’m going to string them out over a few posts.
Mon, Feb. 27th, 2006, 10:59 pm – Stop the world, I’d like to get off
Last week, a guy I knew in high school died. It was very odd, mainly cause at the funeral, I realized that I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. There were also alot of people that I haven’t seen in a long time, whom I felt the same about. But it was still good to see them, only it felt bad feeling good about that. I’ve been told that it’s not a bad thing and it’s actually good that we connected. Now if I can just bother to write them e-mails. . .
So that ended last week, on a rather . . . “um. . que?” note, only to have me work all day Saturday. For some reason I came home and slept for 5 hours, thinking “Hey! I’ll disco nap, clean, and go shake my ass at SoBe cause I need it!!” Didn’t happen. I woke up, wandered around, and watched some bad adaptation of a Jane Austen novel and went back to bed.
I checked out my calander, and it looks like life is going to be hell during march. Hopefully not at work, because the Skanky Bitch Whore has been moved. But she still comes up and tries to make scenes. HAHAHAHA> YOU ARE A BITCH AND SHOULD DIE!!!! *calm* One of the fat ladies is getting bari surgery this week, so I’m hoping she can stop making comments about how I’m fat and haven’t lost any weight. Bullshit. I’ve had plenty of people comment on it. I just don’t crash diet like she does. And I’m trying to make an effort not to antagonize the other bitch. I was rather nice, for the most part, during the office clean up. I asked about everything, well, except when the manager came up and TOLD me to throw things away, but that’s the manager. Therapist tried to pass it off as I should have told her anyway, but . . . who is she kidding? She would have just tried to throw a wrench in it anyway. I am really over her bullshit. Maybe if I close my eyes and ignore her, she’ll go away.
All in all, I’m suffering from something akin to senioritis and this dreaded fear that I’ve fucked everything up, and that I’m 25, and it’s too late to start over.
Bullshit.
Bullshit indeed. That skank needed to get told.
Image: Wikimedia Commons
