There might be something interesting to you at some point in this post.... Too much crap to read to find it though!

It really sucks that people I know in real life sometimes read this blog. It really sucks that the person's whose heart I broke last night reads this blog. But the reason I started it (before all you other mother fuckers, mind you :P) was to release those thoughts that I couldn't keep in a notebook anymore.
In highschool, I would carry around one notebook to all of my classes. Almost every day, I was writing in it instead of my real note books. The thoughts and pages that I wrote included long love letters to Scott (most of which never got sent), depressing poetry about people dying, failing, just plain running out options, or characters stranded w/ only those who were going to torture them, random statemetnts of self-hate.. whether it be for eating a brownie or participating in some act that I regret, and for the most part drawings and doodlings about scott.
My entire thought process was always on a different wavelength than my friends and classmates. I was deep, yet uncommitted, and lazy. A lot of the same characteristics I have today.

Some days I want to write a letter to my lost love.

My dearest scott,
I hope you read this. I woke up this morning in the same manner I normally do. My alarm went off and I stretched half of my body to hit the off button. Blaming the cold (instead of the true culprit of loneliness), I curl back under the blanket with pillows surrounding me I often wonder if this mind trick actually works for other people, the one where you cuddle up to pillows instead of admitting your solitude. I know it doesn't really for me. I try to remember what I was dreaming about, but before long I've concocted a new illusion. Generally something close to reality. Something that could happen this very week. The most common, and the one I dreamed up this morning, is of us first meeting. The long warm embrace, the hesitant first kiss, the mesmerising affect of a love's eyes. Dreamy imaginations soon turn to unrealistic fantasies. I have to force myself to stop thinking about you to get on with my day. I have to remind myself of the bitterness in your voice. Knowing you still love me hurts even more because we can not be to face to face. We can not be together. Finally convinced to "seize the day," I roll out of bed and rush to get ready for whatever even I'm already late for. Don't think I forget about you though. I work as long as I can to save up that money to come and visit you. The smallest and craziest little things remind me of you. Cucumbers, dogs, curly hair, phone cards... and of course... those pics of you in my wallet. You are brought back into my thoughts... and damn are you hard to get out. I love you.
Forever Yours,
Stephanie Renee Huffman

Some days I want to just sit down and write about anyone but myself. Any character, but mostly ones that are failing. This poem was written as response to one of the poems scott sent me a while back. I'd say over 6 months ago. The series he wrote was from the view of Satan. I wanted to write a recant to everyone of the ones he wrote, but it has been very hard for me to write something from the view of God. Maybe it's because I'm not close enough to Him or maybe it's because His thoughts and actions are too much for me, as a human, to comprehend, much less make up. At any rate, this is one of the first ones I finished. It has generally has the same rhyme scheme and thought process as his, but it doesn't really flow like I wish it could. I wish I could post his writings for you guys to see... but I don't have permission, nor do I feel like asking for it. And scott, don't the ink I'm too weird. I don't think I ever told you about this. I've been writing them on some Sunday nights when like.... I'm just tired of listening to preaching... I think I have 4 or 5 done.... okay, enough babbling. :)

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Some days I just want to admit an indulgence and express my self-disappointment. Here is my indulgence repentance. yesterday, I went against my vegan morals and went with my parents to Olive Garden. I ate the bread and salad (cheese and croutons included, mind you). then my entree -- fetuccini alfredo. My weakness... favorite dish at my favorite restaurant. You know how they ask you if want fresh grated cheese on top your dish? I look at her bewildered, and the whispered, "yes, please," but before she had made one complete turn, I yell, "STOP" with a little bit too much enthusiasm. After she left the table, and my face had returned to its normal color; I began to indulge in that immoral act. Eating all those inhumane foods not only made me feel guilty, but also grotesque. It made me hate me.... and I ate every last bite.