snow

my sick obsession of reading posts on random websites, typing "snow suicide" into the search engine, people quoting me or talking about what my tattoos really mean. people assume to know all the answers, especially when they see you on cable television once a week. i wonder what possesses them to sit at home and talk shit about me. i am just a rich bitch off of the DVD who went out and got a bunch of tattoos, piercings, developed bulimia....and....it is almost as bad as being out and hearing someone talk about you two feet away. yeah that snow, her tattoo on her crotch...it's her dog's name. isn't that just disgusting? like oh my god. maybe i like it. maybe i like the paranoia...and no one ever really knowing who i am. i am a snob. i hate talking. i will fuck you from the back of the room. i have been in bed for four days, i am in pain, i am depressed, and i don't remember the last time i got a new tattoo. i have thirty-two cents in my purse and 1/4 of a cup of lactose free milk in my fridge. there is a rotten apple on my counter that i just might eat. i don't know if i have one friend. actually i don't think i do. if you want to know something, just open your mouth. language, use it.