1:03 p.m. - May 05, 2002
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Yesterday was boring as all hell. We didn't go out again because the people we were going to go with couldn't. So maybe today. I did talk to a certain Henry last night. He was waiting for his friends to call him and was passing time talking to me. He's special.Damn. Check out my guestbook, kids. Shout out to Lexie at amateur-ass-fuck.com, wow. Yeah, sign my guestbook, it's lonely.
I was just thinking. I think right now that I feel too much, or too little. I can't cry about it, I just can't. Not even while listening to Dashboard Confessional in the dark at 2:am last night, I couldn't shed a tear for the life of me. So maybe I'm just feeling too little. I don't know. I just... blah.
I ordered a Midtown shirt and a Get Up Kids shirt off of Interpunk.com so thats exciting. Whoopty. I've come to the conclusion that when I have money, and like, a steady income, and I get into moods like this, I will find solace in spending money. New things make me feel better. Materialistic, but what else is there for me to do? Nothing, thats right.
Boys aren't interested in me for more than a night, apparently, my best friend and weekend partner in crime is in Chicago, and no ones around, and I just can't get out. And I can't stop listening to "Central Standard Time" and thinking of those fucking April nights.
It's Sunday and my head and my heart can't get any heavier.
Your once "endlessly attractive" and "beautiful" emo girl is different now. Outside I'm blood-red-headed, I think my insides are matching too. Inside I'm red-eyed, cynical, and faking it all. I'm still bullshitting.
I hope the suns out in New York [Ypsilanti]. I hope you buy her fucking roses.
(obviously you were busy, too busy for me, so this is how you leave me, im broken hearted on the floor, my tears seep through the crack under my door)