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divorced's Journal

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15th June 2002

10:01pm: I feel like a nut, I am a spaz
I I I.
Me Me ME.


I saw a girl tonight at the, ironic enough, rib place. I filled myself with side dishes. The girl, her arms, they were cut. She cut. I cut. I felt close to her...I wanted to be happy with her...always.


I am at my dad's and I need to sleep. Clear myself, clear my brain, empty out my heart.



When asked what I want, what I am looking for...I have it now...I am looking for: love.





I want someone not only to like me enough to "kiss my feet" in the words of the bread-wanting boy...but to want to fight for me. To fight for me. I want Modern English dork love. I want yeah. So, I will wait.


I need sleep. I will sleep. I will not hurt myself, people that want me but can not be with me. It sucks, because I miss him a lot. The bread-wanting boy that is. I miss him and I am not allowed to. I hate the way they make it wrong, make everything we feel sick. Make him out to be wrong and bad for wanting me. In a way, they or something always seems to make it wrong. How is it wrong to love me. I begin to worry and think it is me. Is it?



Pete: remember my White Strips CD...and pretty pretty please...could you make me The Hives if you have it???


Alright...depending on the money left over my pops might buy me some Samba shoes...they rock...they are for like indoor soccer. Cool.





I will use them to skank. I am not a ska kid but I will skank in them. Yes I will. Yeah. I will.



Pick me. I will pick you.


oh sweet boy: na uh uh huh.
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