true insomnia cannot be induced!

can't sleep at all. i'm on someone else's meds right now and am loving the performance enhancing effects. now i am way too idle and listening to RHCP songs from my friend's laptop.

shit. i meant to type something meaningful. let's try:

i miss my "Jay."

shit.

hey, oh. listen what i say, oh..
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.
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DAMNIT!
oh well, i tried. severely, fervently. honestly. not really.

i've been undertaking unique action today. it's highly confidential, so i'll probably be making a private post later about who a new gorgeous guy is that gives me attention now. my lips are sealed for now. not saying that i like what's going on [or that i don't. just saying that it's happening... and that he is gorgeous.] so there.

shit: my buddy's morning alarm just went off twice. well, goodmorning everyone! there are bad videos on vH1 right now and it's freezing in my dorm right now. i'm so jittery and not good for even beans right now.

don't take two and call me in the morning.

phantom pheromones

iVillage is genius, i promise and can defend proudly. i everything but worship the articles because i have no common sense and insight into this ever pleasant transience. witness how "duh" this particular article appears:

Email's a nice place to start. It's less embarrassing than a phone call, you don't have to think on your feet, and you can get a trusted friend to read it before you send it to make sure you've struck the right tone. I'd send a cheery, it-was-so-nice-to-see-you type of email, simply thanking him for making a nice day even more special. If the reply is nice and it's obvious he enjoyed your company too, send one back pretty quickly.

wow, i am not in touch to the ways of my sex, at all. i am a failed woman.

i hope this works. i'm experiencing a dry spell relative to college norms. momma wants me to find my husband. if he's beautiful, he just is. life is transient, like the feelings i probably don't really mean for anyone. go after it; chase it like you would as if in dreaming, where there are no witnesses.

i want Real beauty for myself. i want Substance to marvel at because it won't get boring as my face does.

he sucks for me.

i don't ask for jewelry. one engagement ring after three or four years of dating doesn't count. i don't ask for shopping sprees of fabulous. expensive clothing. my only vice is that i like good food, not at ritzy restaurants, but at [get this] Hooters!

he tells me he loves me. disses me in front of his friends before i have literally add two and two together for him to see. i told him how inappropriate it is for him to be visiting exes that he has screwed, almost kook-ups, and the like at midnight when i don't know about it. the bitch he visited even called him back and told him it wasn't cool because she was with her man. sounds proper. larry should have been somewhere where he belonged, with the woman he declared his love to.

now i've fucking broke up with him and he doesn't give a shit. he's gonna go get with some girl who doesn't want him, some bitch with loads of money who will buy him all of the fucking incense and Heineken beer that he wants. he'll never have to feed her or be a man for her.

fuck that.

court, anyone. and not just from this. i'm living a BAD lifetime movie. it's funny, really. a tad scary.

Rescue Me from my pica?

i feel like listening to some old Blink 182--that should reveal my current mood with no problem, right? i don't like being a weird fucker. i don't like being sick. i don't like not making sense in relation to what is healthy..

i'm eating baby powder out of the palm of my hand because i like the texture. i owe it to my mild pica. it's insane. i wish that i could call my mother and whine until she calls me "her baby" and makes kissy noises at me. i wish that my "boyfriend" could grant me some sort of comfort in this mess that i've found myself in. honestly, if he's only adding to my already threatening stress, well, i don't really need to finish that thought.

a certain guy that i have been all BUT running down is giving me the famous cherry treatment: answers a few calls with a genial attitude, smiles and flirts enough to get your hopes slightly elevated while not promising anything, then not following through with your hopes because that never was the intention, at all. not at all.

i may be calling it all wrong, or so i hope, but there you go: i'm calling it.

sick to the stomach of chemicals. tired of the insane partying with people who don't deserve my sacrifices sometimes. got a job that's stressing me out and not a car to get to it and to be independent enough to save myself from things that i would!

realistically however, i've got to balance the bad with good, correct? i mean, i'm a fucking libra and can't even balance a piece of writing!
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i made it through a premiere hearing. it was a little nervous for me, but i'm sure the girl who was defending herself hung her own self, or at least i hope that she did. yay for progress, even if it's slow. who knows what will happen next, but it will probably be in my favor!

also, spring break is in a week for me, which means being home and eating good food!!! OMG. and if i haven't made a different decision by then, there will also be alone time at a certain Mister's apartment and unrestricted nookie for hours and hours until we both walk funny. hope i didn't weird anyone out: i'm an adult and it ain't criminal to enjoy THAT.

i did my own nails and they turned out decent. i finished some last minute assignments pretty much on time or only a few days late. i can make it up. chemistry is getting easier. i have a quiz tomorrow to shine on. i've got a few dollars in my pocket and i've seen some of the third season of Rescue Me over a friend's room! i LOVE getting burned when i play with that fire. what a sexy old man.

alright. i'm gonna study some more and not obsess over what isn't mine and probably should never be. hell, what is mine happens to be sucky as fuck when it comes to priorities. i'll straighten my hair and wear pretty makeup tomorrow to feel better.

ciao.

in the meantime.

everyday, i have a new self. i can never learn me.

seriously though. i just left a counseling appointment during which i was asked how often i felt like killing myself. the counselor doesn't even ask me if i have such symptoms anymore, just knows that i do and asks me to elaborate from last week.

i didn't cry this time. didn't feel a need to. maybe that was because i was thinking about a certain hook up--a sloppy massacre of time. i went to the gallows that night and almost threw up picking up the used condoms the next morning. smelled of vomit masked with Victoria's Secret and a bad time. i get so sick of crawling through the sewers.

thinking about love, or looking at the stars maybe, but then again, who isn't? constantly perplexed and do some of us even love ourselves? it's so difficult being hopeful about something as anomalous.

i don't know. my mood is really indeterminate currently. i know of a pretty boy to look at in the meantime. until there is another massacre of actions, i'll be trying to make a fucking fairytale out of shit.