I spend way too much of my life in the wazzarium writing. Really. Spent 5º there, spending it her now. Can't I just have a wazz and leave? But no, I just gotta stick around in the Tart's wardrobe. At least the [admittedly loo-related] writing is borderline mediocre. Almost. Getting there? Amazing, how I mind margins on blank paper. Must be like the sleeve-stroking. Ah, Teenagerdom! 'Cause it's so lovely...not! For boys: Can't keep your prick down, can't keep your hand off it, letting it guide you with your mind following meekly after. All will be well, someday. I really gotta get outta the wazzarium...

God, I must be ill
Sitting alone on the bathroom floor. it's dirty. Smells of pot and cancer sticks. Caresses me, tickles, makes me sneeze. I don't even feel good. Fingerfuck my ass again; "Ooh, yes, just like that!" See?!? I'm very, very ill. I dreamed of Michael Jackson yet again. His tongue in my mouth. Spicy. He had the softest, kindest hands. Like that one time he saw the bandaid on my wrist and grabbed my hand. I told him bugbites I didn't want to scratch. Amazing, how I forget to lie to him. God, the smell in here is making me cough. Even the Dresden Dolls aren't really helping. Take me home? But there's nothing to go home to. No one. I hate them all. "PARENTS," my ass. I hate them. I hate you. I did try to love you, it just didn't work. It's not entirely my fault, either. God, the girls who come through here are loud. How come I have no gay guy friends? Just lesbians and bisexuals. I will never get what I want. Such extreme cruelty...maybe I gotta go to Romania. Bathe in dirty water, outdoor shower. I want an outdoor shower. Badly. What do the people who sleep naked do when they have roommates? Wear skivvies? PJs? The world may never know. I might ask him, just for shits and giggles. Sleeve-stroking is a lot more difficult in summer. No-one ever wears sleeves. Maybe I will, in case there's a kid out there like me who just needs a sleeve to stroke. The weather's cold. It's already April. Thank God. Where will I go when all the sleeves go away? Maybe Australia. Somewhere chilly, with lots of sleeves. Fingerfuck my ass again, It's sooo good. I wish I wasn't such a stupid American otaku. I wish I were a Weasley. Charlie, maybe, or Bill. Fred, to have a twin and a jokeshop and pretty red hair that fucking bleeds. Oh! Oh! Oh! Sexy Vampire! I want a sexy vampire. I want to be a sexy vampire. I'm very upset. Freshman senioritis? Could be. PANDAS have several sets of razor-sharp teeth that they use like hacksaws to cut through bone, candy, and fences. The Chinese believe that if you find a discarded panda tooth, you have the power to summon godzilla. I hate my life. I hate myself. Get me out of here. Bloody fuck, bathrooms are cold. You perv, gitcher hand outta yer pants. HAHAHAHAHA. My ass hurts. Bathrooms are cold and hard...like cock, but cold ^_^. My life is so good, why am I so unhappy? my "mother" doesn't even get it. At least I didn't come outta her vag. Eww much? I'm so ANGRY. And he yelled at me, made me stop. I like being behind him, meany.

They started again. Me alone in an empty room, smoking. Me surrounded by people on a crowded campus smoking. But he was always there. So were you. So, every time I wake up smelling faintly of carcinoma and find that you're not here with me. Neither is he. I was right when I said I am always alone. I am always alone. People visit me only in my strawberrynicotinecarcinomadeath dreams. Help me. Please? I'm so tired of being alone. I smell sweetly, so faintly of nicotine.
You said I was beautiful. So did he, actually; you called me beautiful. You told me I was worth it. But I wasn't, in the end. Me and my nicotine, smoking in cemeteries trying to forget I ever loved you because I was not worth it, we are still not worth it. I am not a happy person. Happy people do not volunteer for lung cancer at this age. I remember, you always used to taste of coffee...so much better than carcinoma. My nicotine dreams are screaming for you. I am screaming for you. Mochaboy. Gene Simmons is awesome. I love you, Mochaboy. Mochacarcinoma. I know what we'd taste like now.
Is that bad? I don't like waking up shaking, sick, and alone. I should've known this would happen. I should've never let you go. But I did. I am sooo stupid. I astound myself. Was I always this stupid? No, because I had you. He was there sometimes, too. But he's your best friend, and I never wanted him anyway. I want you. It doesn't matter how many times I dream you're here and wake up only to be alone and nauseous. I want you back. Stupid Mochaboy, don't ask me how I am. You know. You know I'm fucked up, so why do you ask? The only difference is the amount of meds I've taken. I only smile for you now. Only because you ask. If you asked me to be happy, I wouldn't be able to. But I can lie for you. You want me to look happy. I do. See me?
I'm "happy." Me and my nicotine are happy. But I need you. Burning lungs and watering eyes are not the key to happiness. Love is. But I can't have your love, Mochaboy. It's not for me, you told me so. I cannot have your love. It's okay, though. I can stay here and wait for you in my nicotine dreams.

It's interesting. I spend a lot of time alone, yes? I don't like saying the phrase "best friend" and I only really say it to one person. And only on certain occasions. But whatever, right, 'cause I never thought it'd be her. Well, no, that's not true. I did, in the beginning, but I never thought it'd last. It's been almost ten years now. I was always thinking "my best friend hasn't found me yet. Some gay boy with peroxided hair, a transvestite, a drag queen, a drama geek, a stonerrecluserebelmisfit." But what I got, in the end, was:a short, level-headed, biracial girl with:
-a 4.0
-a knack for wit
-unending sarcasm
- [sometimes cruel] judgments
-unnerving insight
-equally unnerving intelligence
-the ability just to look intelligent, even when she's spacing out
-passive-agressiveness
-undying morals
-kindness
-love
-forgiveness
-an obnoxious habit of always asking "why" I do stupid things
-dark, curly hair
-great shoes
-a flat arse
-humor
-amber eyes
-straight teeth
In short, I got the best friend I could've asked for, and I forgot she was there. Thank you for everything.

How did this happen? My happy-go-lucky otaku disposition has been shattered. I am now a very unhappy, emo-type otaku. I know, I don't get it either. I've been looking up everything on Izumo and Kotetsu [of Naruto] that I can find. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I'm just overtired.

I am going to jump out the window. I now know what studying for one's SAT's feels like. I'm cramming Japanese language courses for my vacation (TT_TT) GOD DOES THIS SUCK! And it's not like i'm actually supposed to be studying on not posting right now, or anything...¬_¬ hahahaha...anygay....gotta go

mood: melancholy

on the plus side, Fuzzie and Veggie Babe are here. 's'always good.
yeah.........really I just wanted to look at my cute little emoticons again.

mood: blah music: American Idiot

Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiired. Fourth of July fireworks, though, were fantastic, un. SFPD really outdid itself, but the music quality sucked. Oh well, we compromise in everything in life, yeah?

mood: tired