wearing: pajamas.


eating: club crackers


on winamp: pepper, butthole surfers. "i don't mind thet sun sometimes and the images it shows, i can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes, cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies. you never know just how you look through other peoples' eyes."


feeling: confuuuuuuused.


thoughts: i'm mad at ben. ben, if you're reading this, i'm pissed off with you. and bryan, i'm sorry! i didn't mean to be mean... i didn't mean... agh. sorry. i am bitter, but, i didnt' mean it that way. not at all. sorry sorry sorry. *SIGH* ok, so ben. agh. mad mad mad. you need to realize that you're popular, and in a way, you're a phony. i'm sorry. really, i am. i'm going to regret writing this. but whatever. you need to hear it. though, hell, you dont read this. maybe someone will tip you off though. anyhow, ben is ALWAYS.... always the center of attention. he's everyone's best friend, he's always entertaining... and he's always having girl problems... which he uses to draw girls *to* him "poor ben, he needs me to be his friend because *insert girl here* just dumped him." sorry if i'm being harsh, maybe it's because i haven't eaten anything but club crackers and am in a bitter angsty mood (may have been the nirvana and angryeverclear i was listening to) anyhow, i'm sorry ben, but i do need to talk to you. and maybe i'll actually come out to you and say "ben, i need ot talk to you" but i bet i won't. maybe by some stroke of luck you'll hear that i'm ranting about you angrily. or not. either way, we'll see.


*megan*