Make Me Love You:
Public, Part One
Public, Part Two
Private

I find I keep thinking in partial sentences, like: "Tired." and "Just got my lunch. Gonna eat." It's like I'm writing little post-it notes to myself, reminding myself of details.

It's weird.

Also, nothing is worse for the self esteem than sitting on a story for eight months and then reading it again. Yeee. How embarrassing. I writhe.

Or, as my brain would say, "Writhe."

But I would know what it meant.

I finally got my car registered, thank you. Now I feel all superior to the non-registered people, like I joined the popular group now. I'm one of the cool kids, that's right bucko.

I should be working out right now. I should be writing. I should be doing anything. Instead I will do nothing, and I know it. That's fact.

The strain of trying to form sentences with actual subjects is dragging me down. I have to take my leave now. I'm sorry kids, my interesting-ness truly is falling out on the floor, methinks. I love all of you. I still read your diaries, when I can. Trust me.

I miss.

Miss.

-Mlle R