Hook this

 It's truly amazing how much iPhones do not work the way they are supposed to. If I wanted to spend a shit ton of money  on something that dosen't work, I would have payed for a hoker. 

not now

i just realized that.... i haven't been awake in a while. and why would i want to be? no one has anything to say... rather, no one wants to say anything that i want to hear. so. so once upon a time i met this woman. she knew what she wanted but then she saw a star shoot threw the sky and she saw something more. she saw a future that she wasn't ready for.

Meow... Welcome home

Old is as what old does

It's a new day. And there are always new problems.

But why dwell?

But why not dwell?

It's been almost two years since I actually cared about writing. But. But writing is all I want to do. Besides sailing, and painting, and pretending that I'm sick. Picture me. Sick in bed. Becuase that's how I have everyone else pictures me. I do think I am sick. But I have been 'sick' since I was born, whenever anything important happens.... Kristine is sick and she can't talk. So take a message.

Sick of being this 1st world problem. Sick of being my own problem.
Tired of chasing boys. Tired of losing sleep.

Nothing feels the same as it did. This is not growing up. This is growing old.

Depressed again...

Fucking a. Here we go again. In bed. Tears drying on my face. Cat by my side. Liquor on my breath. I.fucking.hate.men.

I hate them because I think like them but I'm not one. I act like one, but I'm not one. I want to get down and fuck and be weird and whatever, but I don't want to fucking talk about it. As soon as anything is discussed, I lose it. And I become the little lame girl that I am.

Why must we talk about things. Why must we talk about sex, or feelings, or anything. I just don't really need to do that all that often.

So last night Hanna and I took a small amount of mushrooms. Things were good, things were great. A bunch of biches hanging out, being girls. And then I invited him over. I like him. I like him in a weird way. I was actually trying to be respectful and not super out there. And I am talking about the course of a few weeks. I really wanted to be nice.

I thought I was. But apparently not.

I thought that I wasn't depressed anymore. I really thought I got over that.
 But apparently not.

Gipper xoxo

I'm so literally hot as shit right now. Inside this house, it must be 90degrees. I miss the water. I'm turning into a lizard. My skin. It's dieing. Like leaves in the fall, my skin is changing color and it's not the whole "I'm losing my tan" thing. It's more like, "hum, I think I am allergic to my life..." kind of thing. 

Gripper is in full flocked force right meow. 

Wild but tame

I'm acting like I have money. I'm wearing a robe. Is that even how you spell it? And I'm eating strawberries like its my business. Like a business that I own, that of which makes money. I'm lying in bed and it's noon. I'm pretty sure I have no idea how to spell and I constantly think that I smell weird. Maybe if I had more confidence in myself I might just realize that smelling funny is fine. People all over this ball smell fucking weird and they still get laid. Sometimes I can smell myself and it's like, whatever. But sometimes I smell myself and I get worried about it. I need to floss more. And then there is this whole theory about pubic hair. Pubic hair is there for a reason and that reason involves fucking. But people don't just fuck, they fuck because they like the sent of someone. And pubs hold that sent. Their like little pheromone traps. 

Hair hair everywhere

And then there was this conversation, which I find very entertaining and worth the long read. 

Love in the woods has many perils.

Ladies and gents, clear cutting is wack, just tame that jungle. Wild but tame.