Sunday, May 16, 2004

I'm somebody who likes to run away. That is, I do not want to stop and think about anything.

So, the real reason I've been cleaning my room so furiously in the past few days (I can see the floor--huzzah!) is because I hate weekends. I have too much time to think. So, I work and give myself a little less time.

But now I have to do homework, which requires thought, especially because it requires thinnking about molecular models which are far beyond my comprehension at this point. Phooey.

You know, the most painful thing is, I really tried hard for y'all to see me as a sex goddess, because that's all I ever wanted from life. So when I was told, by numerous readers (thank y'all) that I didn't need to try and please them, that I made them happy just by being me, it made me want to cry because all those embarrassing things I squeezed out of the keyboard and posted for all the world to see JUST TO PROVE THAT I'M REALLY THE SEX GODDESS I SAY I AM were now utterly MEANINGLESS, just a case file on what a dork I am.

So, I want to cry, but I can't yet get all of these things to the forefront of my brain, because I built an identity for the past four years around being a sexpot, an unhealthy identity that I would do well to get away from. So I clean, clean, clean, masturbate, clean, and hope I can forget about it all.


You still love me, right?


(Yes, you have noticed the running theme of me treating my blog readers as one collective boyfriend. I've explained this before: I have no boyfriend, and being the marvelous sex goddess I am [kicks self] I need to have SOME outlet for my sexuality, as I so yearned throughout my teenhood, so I tried to substitute the Internet for one. I am one sad stupid sorry slut. The end.)

(No need to send "no you're not" E-mails. I know I'm not. I just need to say it in order to get it out of my brain.)

(Which is why I have the Internet, right?)

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