wugglyump

venting, but not too much.

i need to bust out my real journal from my car and write away. why even bring that up?

like i'm not insecure enough with myself. pressing forward.

i feel like crying. i think it's just fucked up hormones from screwing with my birth control. rather screwing up.

tomorrow halloween party. we won't be getting there till late that night.

present ideas for costume, nurse (not without my partner in crime) sally (my stand by) but having actually stitches tattooed on me, the ones i draw on i think will look silly. and a dominatrix. but with no good dominatrixy skirt to wear.

also by the time we get there it's more than likely that people will be so drunk they won't remember such appearences. can't spell. but i like the idea of dressing up. especially with having nothing planned on halloween. the one day i make sure i take off, but i've got nothing.

crushes are crushes and crushes can be meaningless, but what am i?



so many lines deleted in this entry.

i apologize for the lack of fun this journal contains. but there will be other ones. just need to vent.