They are all yours! Happilly. I'm intrusting in you to take care of it. I don't know if maybe I am too far gone to ask for this kind of favor or if all is forgiven. I not completely sure. But I need something done. I need to be taken care of too. I want to curl up in a ball and just give up. Say fuck everything and everyone. But I can't so that's where you come in. I can't carry this burren on my...

I was absolutely fumming. I mean completely pissed off. I was completely planning on ranting and raving and cussing up a tornado. But the more I sit here the calmier I become. And yet I'm angry about that. I want to be mad at the world. I want to hate someone because they are the favorite, but I feel like I am entitled to just a tiny article of what they have. I work for what I have. I don't get...

I don't know, maybe it is just me. But I'm sick of not being someone. I'm sick of being trapped in this confusing, large, and for better use of words, ridiclious body. I want to be someone, something. I want to have meaning behind my work. I want to change people. I want to make people see they aren't alone. I get all these ideas and pictures in my head that would be great to write down and maybe...