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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They say ice cracking sounds like a gunshot. all time - is relative
I don�t know how I feel right now. I�m having problems with Mike, and I must admit, we are both handling it immaturely. I don�t know what I do, no, that�s wrong, I know what I�ve been doing, pissing him off. Fuck. This is the burden of boyfriends. I just asked if we could talk for once, just talk. Have a serious goddamn conversation for once. And he gets angry with me. Hits a wall or some shit apparently. Calls me, pissed and impatient. I�m sorry. Sorry for wanting to actually talk to my boyfriend. No, I�m just being needy. He�s walking on thin fucking ice and I control the temperature.
Quote for the Entry: �Fucking alright already, I�ll call you.� -Mike�s IM to me.
I don�t fucking need this.
all time - is relative