Dissatisfaction

Stupid Kelly Clarkson and her song that's stuck in my head. I don't even know enough words to make it interesting. Not that it would be anyway. I am so sick of this place and I don't want to be here anymore. I want to live in my parents' basement and do nothing like the loser I am for the rest of my life. Argh.

I saw a picture of the woods this morning and remembered the last time I was in the woods. Almost a year ago. I wish I could go back there. I need a break from city life. There's too much going on, and not enough of it is good for me. Argh.

I'm glad I have a girlfriend that can give me pep talks when things are bad, because other shoulders have dropped out and are no longer lean-able. Some might come back, some might not. And the truth, while setting you free, is going to scrape your face off and it will hurt. There's no question about it. And for the record, there is no such thing as letting someone down easy. It will always be a rough kerplunk as your face meets turf and you get stomped on from above.

I went to bed hungry last night on purpose. Because I am tired of feeling like a fat cow that no one wants. No wonder, I eat compulsively whenever there is food in the house. Perhaps I should stop going to the grocery store. It's not doing me any good, except putting pounds on my tummy ass and thighs, which only adds to my uncoolness.

I have not visited the beach in almost a week because it has been cloudy and yucky there. What's up with that??? Lack of sand and surf is contributing greatly to my poor outlook on life, as well as my fading tan. I am some sort of weird addict. My drugs are habits, or my habits are drugs. People become habits, and then they duck out and I am left with the shakes of withdrawal. Not that they ever think about these things. They are my problems and I'm supposed to deal accordingly. Because people don't like it when you have problems, and I have definitely had my fair share of whoppers this summer.