me in black and white.

today i don’t know if i want to write in cryptic poem form, or free thought. i don’t know if i’m tired off my three hours of sleep, or if the coffee is sustaining me.

i don’t know what sustains me, to tell you the truth.

i watch a lot of south park. it’s the only thing that makes me laugh. i need to laugh at life more. but for some reason it all seems to be going by too fast, and i don’t want to laugh. i want to hold on so hard. i want to hold on to those memories of ex boyfriends, and ex friends, and ex jobs.

like remember the time i spent all night in a hotel dressed in a black dress that made me look phenomenal, at a ball meant for marines. i never looked prettier. i don’t know why it’s impossible to recreate that moment. i was so excited that night, sometimes i forget that my date was mia for the entirety of the night, and i was forced to converse with a middle-aged, 400 pound, married lunch lady that was having an affair with a twenty-year old virgin marine. but i looked pretty, and i thought that i was on the verge of being in love. how time can change things that we bet our life on.

it makes me sad to think it hasn’t even been a year since then, but it feels so long ago. so is time fleeting fast? or really is it stagnant, and i just think it’s going by fast, because i’m all fucked up in the head?

and then i remember the time when i was fifteen and got my first job. i have been working for ten years. TEN years. i’m pushing thirty, so yes, time is going by fast.

people my age are fat. people i went to high school with have graduated college years ago, and are now married. people my age have wrinkles. thank god that i am not people my age.

i want to get married, hopefully to the man i’m with now, but i’ve been wrong before. i want to have children. maybe 2.5 of them. maybe not. i want to let go of these memories that i hoard in my head, because i am an emotional hoarder. and there should be a reality show about me and how i hoard my thoughts, and how if i get a little crazier, i could destroy my life with these useless memories.

because if you hang on to memories, you end up exploding information to the wrong people, people like your husband, or your children. and how do i tell my children that another man made me cry before my husband did? how do i tell them that i let myself go through hell and back for a man that didn’t love me? how do i tell them that i still think about all of this because i am an emotional hoarder, and time only seems to be against me?

well except for the wrinkle part– time has been good to me there. too bad i get ID’d at wallmart when i’m buying rated R movies, but good thing i don’t look like my GM’s girlfriend who happens to be my age and looks ten years older. i’m a bitch.

men love bitches. men love me. my boyfriend loves me. i’m above average cute, and i’m smart, but i talk “stupid like” so really you see, i’m the best of both worlds. like katy perry, but fatter.

speaking of fatter, i got a gym membership. i don’t know how i’m supposed to be a fame-seeking whore, with this fat ass.

and somehow i just turned this post into a shallow, egotistical rant.

i’m awesome.

here’s a black and white picture of me, so you can see how cute i think i am.