i start my new job bright and early monday morning.
i wish my friends wouldn't get in the car with me when i've been drinking.
watching striptease and 40-year-old virgin made me desperately want to have sex yesterday.
i didn't do it.
i want to share my new postsecret book with everyone, but i won't.
i'm so sick of pizza.
it felt so good just to touch him again, but i think it creeped him out.
generalized depression is so much worse than situational depression.
i lied about going to the doctor because i hoped it was cancer.
apparently, i can't "just say no" to drugs.
when did everyone get so fat?
i've gained weight since returning home, but i don't feel like working it off anymore.
i don't care to learn to use the features of my new phone.
i pity that she still hates me so much; i only ever wanted to make her happy.
i kept his pen, but i forgot his name.
i still haven't unpacked my suitcase from hawaii.
i want to sell all my clothes and shoes and stuff when i leave this place.
she's a better friend than my best friend ever was.
i'd rather chance getting raped while running at night than have my fat ass seen bouncing around in daylight.
i've watched 10 tv series seasons since i've been home.
i'll be in madison saturday morning (and maybe friday night).
the more in-debt i get, the more i want to spend money.
i think long and hard about the right paths to follow, then impulsively choose the wrongs ones anyway.
i want to disappear and never look back.
i do things to make it seem like i'm trying not to be conventionally pretty.
i don't think i'm ever going to get a real job; i'm afraid to.
i'm not as smart as i used to be.
love is just a word.
sometimes, i just want someone to come home to.
i wish i could say, out loud, the things i type so freely.