katiea:

Today I found my old diary I started writing in when I was a sophomore in high school. The first line was “This is a really nice journal and I’m going to try to write in it as often as possible.” I only had about twenty entries in it, the last one being the first day I started college. ”I already hate my roommate and secretly plan on transferring to WSU at semester.”

A lot of what I’d written didn’t seem like it came from me at all. Josh was asleep on my loveseat when I picked it up and I soon became weary of waking him with how much I was laughing. Every time I wrote in it I seemed to be very angry, or at least thought I was. 

 I love/hate reading my old “diaries”. It’s always interesting to go back in time, in a way, and see how I was feeling/thinking at any given point in my life. Although, it’s usually very depressing/embarrassing/hilarious, because I also almost never wrote when I was feeling anything but angry.

weeblow:

sweett:

an intermediate scout. somewhere between boy scouts and cub scouts.

did anyone else know this?

I did! I was a boy scout myself. That’s right. A boy scout, not a girl scout.

Langston's dream

Andrea threw a bucket of water all over his floor, because it would be hilarious. Langston did not think it was hilarious. A fight insued.

I don’t know where Langston would get the idea that Andrea would think something like that is hilarious.

Message

I missed your call tonight 
while I was busy writing.
Hadn’t heard your voice in
weeks, not since you were last
too busy to answer. I told
myself that’s why I saved
your message. I told myself
that so I could make it
a poem. After pressing nine
and pound to save, I held
the phone for a moment,
dramatic pause,
wanting to think about what
I’d say it meant to me. Instead,
I thought about what it did
mean, actually, how content
was no concern to me, and felt
ashamed, writing life as
I lived it. I decided not to
make it poetry, thought
of Anne and Sylvia, writing
their lives up to their own
ends, and me, making living
an art, like everything else.
I wrote this poem in my head
as I decided not to. Wrote it so
a long time from now I might
know what I meant.

AA's iPhone

I’m on it right now!

realization

I don’t want to be a waitress anymore.  I’m completely over it.