I am just the coolest person in the world. It's Saturday night and here I am; in my pajamas, watching a stupid vampire show (although Angel is Weadon's so point there I guess), making chicken nuggets, and drinking wine straight from it's screw top bottle.
I am also avoided having these things called feelings. Because fuck that shit. There is no way I need to spend any more time analyzing what the hell all of these feelings mean. I mean I'm basically talking myself into something whenever I do. And I don't want that. I think. I don't know. I'm a twentysomething there is no way I should know what I want. What's the point of your early twenties if it's not to make mistakes and mess everything up and then realize what it is you are destined to do?
I think the wine may or may not be the thing that's controlling my fingers right now.
blah blah blah.
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