Dearest Journal:

I felt like spicing things up a little thus the reasoning for altering my template. Yes, I made it myself. Congradulations me! Don't you like it? I think it's okay. I mean, the pictures aren't exactly verbatim the style but ya know. They do a good job of representing the link to which they are attached.

Right now, as I write this entry, I'm on the phone with Nicole, the little blind girl. She's yelling at me. She's a rug muncher too. But then she said she's straight. Only God knows. Maybe I'll get her laid this summer. That sounds like such a plan.

So yeah. I went and applied to Leather Limited in the Oakland Mall. I gave them a copy of my updated resume and I think it was quite impressive myself. But then again, I like to take pride in the accomplishments that I have procreated for myself. If I don't, nobody else will. I guess that's just the way life is supposed to be for a nobody, a nothing. But then again, I am someone. I am an individual with quality thoughts, emotions, and of course, intellect. I am me and that's what makes me, me. Confusing, eh? I thought so too. But then I decided against it. It's really confusing. But, yeah, I'll get over it. I'm sure of it. I'm a strong person and for that I am grateful.

I found out the cost of my little fuck up. It'll be a $250 set back, but that's nothing compared to $2,600. Dad went on a pissy semi-rampage about not having shit, quite literally, when we were talking about how this is going to affect his insurance. I am not allowed to drive until I have acquired insurance. They won't let me. But driving is my life. That's how I communicate and commute. Without transportation, I am nothing. I return to the void within. The darkness entangles me. The blackness annoys me. The lonliness supresses me. And for that, I am depressed.

Such a stupid little insipid bastard I am. I think a change in "scenary" would alter my mood, but I am mistaken. The flowers are a nice eddition, but to smell... Oh the smell roses. They're sweet. They're pungent. They're alive. And they're free. They're free to grow, live, prosper, and unfortunately, live to the beauty standards of this sick, sad world.

I found that I have a bit on an admirer. I don't personally know them. But I do know that someone is in dire need of some seratonin inhibitor. No no, not I. I'm not the nut. Those who question their sanity are the true sane ones. Those who don't... Well, you can probably tell.

I was bored today so I went and found some nifty quotes. Some match the persona, others don't. But who cares? Right? I'm just some pathetic teen writing about a boring life lived by the dull on some God forsaken computer sitting in a cold room, lit by false sun. Paints a beautiful picture, doesn't it?

The sweet sounds of Monica and Brandy float softly out of the granite colored speakers setting around my room. They spill words of courage, thought, and comfort. But do I feel these? No. It's not natural to be happy twenty-four hours a day. Sometimes I feel like I have to Greg-Fuckin'-Brady 24/7 just to keep everyone in the fuckin' dark. You know, telling people you deepest, inner thoughts is quite destructive. So I'm a hypocrit. Aren't we all?

Anyways. So I cleaned my room up quite a bit. Go figure, I have a floor. It's wood. Never noticed that before. I'm really anal about keeping my surrondings exceptionally clean except for my bedroom. It's my space to make cluttered and dirty and I don't like when people are irritating about how "messy" or what not it is. It's mine god damn it!

So I'm going to get off the computer now. I want to see about these fucking movies my parent's rented. They're being nice. I don't know why. I think Gram is suing Mom over the Aunt Minnie shit but I'm not sure and everybody won't tell me anything; they're just all pissy about it.

Je t'aime and sweet dreams angel.