Eating: Um... life?
Drinking:Dasani water
Wearing: Jeans, black tank top with built in bra, lavender panties, eith a little sleeping kitty on them, my claddagh, green choker and matching earrings, contacts, vestiges of the day's make-up, black belt.
Listening to: *Hummmmrumblerumblerumble* It's my washing machione making contented noises.
Chatting with: Keeping my own counsel.
Thinking: "I need to concentrate on my posture more."
Remembering: Dave's tongue ring.
Glad for: My ability to move past fear into growth.
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I, don't...know... all time - is relative
You ever just want to cry at all the pain in the world? Just wonder why the hell can't give up our fucking egos once in a while and honestly admit that we don't want to be hurt, we have been, we don't want to admit it, but we have, and we can't give that up, we can't give up are our pain, our fear of being hurt again, we can't give that up, and thats why. Thats why we can't just admit we want to be held. We know we are going to be hurt again, and so we hold on to our pain, this old blanket of mistrust thats suffocating us. We think we need it. God...why? I just want to give up my blanket, I want to feel the wind on my bare skin and the sun warm my features... But I can't. You can't love me because your still hurting...
Quote for the Entry: "Sometimes I hate being alive, but I'm too scared to die." -Bang Bang You're Dead. Read it.
all time - is relative