The Week Ends

Lit From Inside's picture

Dumb headed-ness because my friend Shireen seems to ignore the fact that I'm bi/lesbian; she thinks that I'm really into guys right now, which I'm not, unless they're wearing makeup, and even then... but anyways, she sent me these pics of guys she thought that I would think were hot. I didn't think. She ignores who I am because it scares her. It isn't fair. And I try so hard to make her understand, but she refuses to aknowledge my true self. It's sad, because I'm losing her and she's been my best (only) friend for three years.
Fry-day. I fry today. Blaah. Sitting in front of the television watching Gypsy 83. I envy Clive's clothes. I want to dress like him sometimes, sometimes like Gypsy, but always with Clive's hair. It's like mine, only more spiky. Mucho hot. And it especially kicks ass because they play so much Cure! Lovely. Deliscious. I'm finally better (sadly). Not sick anymore, so I actually have to live life, no more lying on the couch and doing this for hours on end, no more streams of movies and cocoa puffs 'round the clock. Finally.
Rereading Alice In Wonderland. He was not on drugs. He was a genius. So frightfully imaginative. I feel so dreadfully alive. Later I'm going to walk down to the park in my goth-est outfit with a book of Sartre and my biggest attitude to freak out all the little kids and use my French act on some of the unsuspecting locals. I'm feeling muchly unthoughtful; less than reflective.