why do i suck so much? why won't i believe that i do?

i could either shoot out an 'i love you' to someone i don't know still would like to hear it or i could write real words to friends. but instead i'm just writing dumb diary entries, with not even enough content to be called mysterious or obscure. just dumb.

i can't pretend to be excited about stupid stuff, or actually exciting stuff. i don't know if i ought to be affected.

i don't know why i suck so much.

because i don't.

i'm so fucking tired.

i work in nine hours, for eleven hours.

i'm not going to talk about the other reasons why i'm tired. that will probably be reserved for lani and josh. not for you, oh i wish it could be for you, too.

suck, suck, suck.

but thank you everyone for the kind words on tattooing, you are dolls. my brother is cool too, that deserves saying.

when did you cave into this role that you were cast in? when did dress-up turn to fashion? throw your gown up and down. there's always the sky, let it hear what you're saying, for all that you are saying. and let it take you apart to the elements of praying, till we are only playing to the firmament.
(dar williams has been giving me chills all day long.)