So the weekend is now over: =(
I will talk about stuff now. I have realized I am a horrible hopeless romantic only to myself....I refuse to show it because i dont think i can. It's like the guy in American Beauty that's gay but hates himself for it. Hopeless romantics are girls with ponytails that like to go to backstreet boy concerts and watch chick flicks and get flowers. I hate all that shit...You know what I also hate? The fact that i pretend the guys I hook up with are asexual...because I dont think i like to admit to myself that they also get ass from other people. Maybe I just get jealous...but why should I be jealous of people I don't even like anymore? Oh well...maybe I'm just a moron. Except when i hook up with people, it's okay because I'm Emily. Peter Sourian is right, what kind of sick fuck am I?
I figured out the more guys like me, the more i hate myself inside. What the hell does that mean? And the fact that I keep listening to Idioteque by Radiohead isn't helping me much (word to the wise, BEST MAKE OUT SONG EVER!)
Oh my weekend...
Today was great except I got stung by "superbee" and my whole hand was swollen up to the size of my head...it hurt so much...I thought someone was chopping my hand off repeatedly. My mommy took care of me though. I love when she takes care of me. She's the best.
I got to drive my sister's new Civic...its a really nice car but nothing compared to the Cam Cam...That car is a trooper and my first and only love (sorry boys)
So I'm going to read and write and junk...
I wonder if Johnny Garrison got my letter...I picture him laughing on his bunk on the Air Force Base in Texas showing his buddies the letter, "The girl fell for it you guys! Hahahaha...I am the smoothest motherfucker that ever lived...told her she was beautiful and bam...she was mine...she was even Raggio's fuckin girlfriend and she toppled like dominos." There would be a round of high fives...
And now do you see why I didn't believe you Blake?
Sunday, April 21, 2002
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