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| Ali's trying to scare me, again. i get a restricted call, and you KNOW thats always pussy shit. Calling someone and hiding behind a restricted number is pointless. I can OBVIOUSLY tell who you are, i know people's voices. it was Ion, Tara, Ali, and whoever else was there. Tara was like HI LIZZ! and Ion gets on like "you sound like an old man" and i was like okay sweet. and i hear in the background I'LL KILL THAT BITCH and im like uh excuse me? i dont need to waste my time with your bullshit peace, hung up. texted tara like keep that shit away from me if someones talking shit they can call me themselves instead of hiding. and Tara's like it's cool im out of this if someone has something to say they'll text you. So im like wtf okay they'll TEXT me. Of course, too afraid to talk to me? Too afraid to hear my voice? I was like I know who it is and if she fucking touches me she's gone, and I hope she knows that. Her ass is fucked if she tries shit. And tara's like who do you think it is... and im like i dont give a fuck tara i thought you were out of this and i dont want you in it. No text back. Pussies. Trust no man, Fear no bitch. | | |
| You hear that ladies? Confidence is sexy! I've learned from experience, man. Ever since I've started feeling comfortable walking around in just my panties (shirt on, looks cuter) I feel better about my body. I started off just sleeping in undies, and worked my way up to lounging around pants-less. Problem: My confidence got my in trouble. With Ion. But you know what? I'm not going to let him fuck with my head. He won't even be going to my school come the end of Christmas break. Everyone here hates him. He's getting himself in too much trouble. He's only going to be here first period and it's going to be the worst period of his fucking life, I'll make sure of it. I don't ever want to see his shady-ass face until I take him to fucking court for what he did. Ugh, anyways, happy subject. Confidence really is so important. I feel so much better walking around the town in what I'm wearing if I'm just confident about it. I bought a new pair of boots not too long ago, they're so fucking hot. And normally I'd be like "Oh, my god, I can't wear these in school!" But I plan on it once it gets not so damn icey ouside. But until then I have my four inch wedge boots and my white "poodle" ones, as Matt calls them. Lesson of the day?: Feel sexy, BE sexy!! | | |
| R.I.P Brandon You went too soon, man. *** My friend Liz's boyfriend died yesterday evening. While we were all out partying, he was busy getting four clips unloaded into him by Columbus Police. When the fuck do the cops draw the line at when to STOP SHOOTING?! This isn't the first time they've shot more times than neccessary in a case like this. I would write about Tess's party but it doesn't seem like a good time. I'm going to try and spend some time with Liz if she needs me. Sleep time. | | |
| I'm making matt a "naughty photo album" for our basic two year anniversary. I don't know what the fuck to do. I like my body and I know he likes my body, but I'm not sure I'm so comfortable with putting it on display like that. I mean I know that he'll be the only one to look at it, but still. What if it falls into the wrong hands? What if his parents find it? They do go through his room like every single day. I was thinking maybe I could make it look like I got him a book, but cut out the inside pages and hide it cleverly in there. I do have a Spanish Uno book from like freshman year. Ugh but yeah, about these pictures in the first place. DUDE he could keep Spidey (glass dug) in there too! I just ganked it from Puff N' Stuff for him. Got myself a couple too, but I paid for them. Crush and Creamsicle; Crush is iridescent clear with orange swirls- double blown, and Creamsicle is creamy white and orange faded/speckled, also double blown, I believe. Crush was only two bucks because there are a few minor detail flaws, but that's what makes it unique.But anyways, I'm getting too excited for new pieces. God, how on Earth am I supposed to get these pictures? Like, I'm not going to have someone take them for me cause that's just awkward kinda, unless it was Tess I suppose. But I couldn't be totally nuded-out, cause..just weird. My camera has self-timer but I'm not sure how well that would work out. Ugh TMI sorry. TESS IS EIGHTEEN! WOOH! Hm. I want to go do something. Like listen to music and whatnot. More later? Party tomorrow night..tonight? Eh. PARTY. | | |
| I'm so fucking pissed. I just went to Matt's because he wanted me to be there when he got off of work. I get there at two, expecting him home around 2:15, 2:30. I lay back, get comfortable, start reading. I look at the clock and it's like three. His mom comes in and asks "Where's Matt?". I just stare at her, not sure how to respond, so I just say "Well, he told me to wait for him, and he's a no-show". His mom tells me that he told her he didn't need a ride home from work, he had another one. So we look around and his work clothes are on the floor. So he's obviously been home. I start calling around looking for him and nobody's seen him. So I start to get worried that he's hurt or dead or pulled over somewhere. 5:30 rolls around and I just start getting pissed. At six I finally leave. I waited for him for FOUR HOURS and didn't get so much as a fucking call. He called me a few minutes ago and you want to know his excuse? He came home and I wasn't waiting for him so he leaves. He leaves, for four hours, doesn't think to fucking call, doesn't think to tell his fucking parents, doesn't THINK in general. FOUR HOURS. So now I'm sitting here fucking crying because I feel so shitty. Like if someone really cared about me as much as he claims to, why the hell is he always forgetting about me? And it just angers me, because everytime I try to talk to him about something that upsets me, he turns it around and acts like he's the one who's soo soo hurt. I asked him why I was always the one forgotten about but never the one forgetting, and his reaction is," Oh, oh so you say we can't bring up the past and there you go, there you go." God I hate it. He's a fucking child I swear to God. He knows he fucked up, he knows he made a bad move, but he won't take responsibility for it. Honestly all it takes is a simple fucking apology and it would be over. He needs to learn to be a man, and that won't happen until he accepts that he can fuck up, that he can hurt me, that he can dissapoint, and that it can be his fault. | | |
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