So, I haven’t written on this thing is ages. There just isnt anything to write about and everything just ends up in some heinous angry rant anyways. I’m pretty useless at everything I’ve attempted this year. I’m a emotionally retarded wanker. My wrist smells like I’ve got some indian essence on it. Ew, that’s gross. I still haven’t got myself a job. I’m trying to diet, although I don’t think it’s even going well. I’m still ugly and poor, I’ve still got dandruff and I smell like tuna. My room is a mess, the top two subjects in this gay-ass household is the dying dog and the bloody cafe consent issues (get a room), and I can’t drive for shit (or some people say). I am depressed! I’m fat and all I think about is becoming a long-legged beauty in distressed skinny jeans, wearing a loose, low cut top with no bra underneath. Like you see in the magazines. Every single magazine. But here I am, logging onto Facebook 6 times a day and finding nothing. It is shit depressing.
April 20, 2009...6:54 am
A MEATBALL JUST BURNED THE ROOF OF MY MOUTH
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