Girlz, boyz, bombs, and glitter dust
2001-09-20 18:48:57 (UTC)

Sinister insomniac plots...EMBELISH those expressive digits

total insomnia last night. i couldn't even close my eyes
with the intent of sleep. i hooked my sterio up to the
head of my bed and set my pillow right against the speakers
and studied Songs From The Wood by Jethro Tull. it's my
favorite album by my favorite band and i sometimes believe
that Ian Anderson wrote that album specifically for me
(besides the fact that i wasn't born until a decade
later). i have a paper due about that album tuesday.*

*writing class is fun because i'm into writing. i write to
clear my mind. i write to explain to myself in a concrete
fashion exactly what it is i'm thinking about. i have been
setting the curve in writing class.

anyways...last night even jethro tull could not lull me to
sleep. i think it was alan up clacking away on the
keyboard, utterly enveloped in that damned everquest. that
game eats people's minds. two nights prior he fell asleep
in my arms. ahhh, i sleep like a fat contented baby when
someone i love is snoring on my pillow. but last night he
returned to his alternate role as Tysi the shadowknight,
bane of all pale skins, and it left me wi-ide awake.

so i painted my nails sparkly. i even added little
rhinestones to my middle fingers (embelish those expressive
digits). i love making myself feel pretty. it distracts
me from ugly things. alan told me he'd wake up with me and
go to school to apply for his pel grant.

i got about two good hours of sleep before i had to get
up. when i did, i dressed pretty in baby blue corduroys,
white dragon-embroidered platform shoes, and a little black
t-shirt that says "i'm not shy, i'm just examining my
prey". i must admit...next to my dragonfly sarong, this t
is my fav thing to wear casually. i did my make-up (always
expertly drawing out my huge black eyes). i strategically
placed a sparkly barette in my ever-adorable red hair. i
felt PRETTY*

*sometimes i think the only thing that keeps me going
anymore is the fact that i can make myself pretty. if i
wasn't pretty, i think i would be too weird for people to
deal with. i am so worthless. i'm too small to open the
heavy doors at college. i can't reach shelves or open
pickle jars. i can't think like anyone else. however am i
going to survive when i get older? what am i going to do
when i have wrinkles. people tolerate a pretty teen-ager
in fairy wings and giant boots. what am i going to do when
i'm too old to be myself?

alan wouldn't get up for school. "i'll do it later, i
promise". no you won't. "i got a job didn't i?" after i
nagged for two months. alan and i have a wonderful
relationship. he treats me like a goddess, sings to me,
makes me feel beautiful and i can tell him anything. any
girl would gnaw her writing arm off just to have a guy like

and i'm secretly plotting in my mind the best way to kick
him out of my house