I like the taste of blood.

I obsess over the lines of the human body.

My lymph nodes are swollen because sick.

I cannot take selfies.

My true love is money.

Sigh.

All I can say is that I’m anxious.

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The fog outside puts me on edge.

Suddenly I feel hopeless. I just want some coffee.

I have hate inside. Towards whom or what, I’m not entirely sure. Partly my ex.

I wouldn’t mind a cigarette. Not to smoke, just to smell for a little while.

I itch for change. For new air. For a new wardrobe. For new people and ideas. New instances. New challenges. It doesn’t have to be new to anyone else but me. I want something fresh. 

There’s something about the people I’m constantly exposed to, that makes me want to vomit. I would gladly crawl out of my skin and into the sea.

Late night problems. Too many feels that will mostly be gone in the morning. 

Lifted weights yesterday, rolled around on my exercise ball and ran a mile.

Today more ball rolling and mile running. No weights.

I walked like two-ish miles with friends.

I wrote a paper and repainted my nails.

I resisted left over Chinese food.

Then took a melatonin pill and am listening to M83.

Insta-sleepy.

Night tumblr.

So I get this random fluttering feeling below my sternum sometimes. It may be a diaphragm spasm. It is completely painless, it actually tickles and I recognize it as a ‘good’ feeling.

I’m not sure what it is caused by. All my life I feel like I’ve been suffering from anxiety, but I’ve never actually consulted a professional. Anyways. I know when I am anxious or stressed it is there. Contrarily, when I get very glad or sudden excitement (not sexual btw) it occurs as well.

Recently I’ve noticed that if I do certain things, my breath sounds raspy. When I run down the hall, if I turn at an odd angle or if I expand my chest in any way; I can hear it. It is also painless. When I actually do real running or physical activity, I do not hear it.

Are these two things connected? 

Star Wars is my oldest love. I also love my dog. I love tea. I love solitude. 

I don’t have a boyfriend anymore. 

I don’t have a protector. Or someone to call whenever. Or take care of. Or kiss or cuddle.

But I have myself. I can pick up a sword and shield. I can fill my days with anything I please now. 

When I cry quiet tears, I stand myself in front of a mirror and stare myself down saying: “This is what I want. This is what I chose. I am 17 years old. I will be in college in 8 months.”

I broke up with my boyfriend today after fourteen months and ten days.

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I’m trying to get fit. Trying really hard. I’m even limiting my candy intake, which is my food love, so I actually mean srs business.

Here’s to a healthier tomorrow!

-cheers-

Fuck. I’m gaining weight.

I struggle with watching what I eat.

Because inside I am a child and sugar is my Holy Grail.

Oh well, it must be done. My personal schedule changes tomorrow. :|

I could use a cigarette right about now.

Thing is, I don’t even smoke.

I just like the smell.

So there’s this girl that sits with me at lunch. She said something a week or so ago about how cremation is looked down upon by all religions. This was right after I mentioned that my aunt, whom I loved dearly and she loved Jesus, was cremated. This struck a nerve with me. I looked it up and it seems that it isn’t wholly true, as the Catholic church decreed it acceptable in 1963.

I’d like to say something, but I’m not too sure.

It is just really something I can’t let go of.

There’s too many idiots that believe they are intelligent.

I’m no genius, but I’m of mild intelligence.

Oh what a pickle…

People are twats.

I am going to stand on the edge of a cliff, but not jump.

Work is more important than sleep.