Bobby Generic.

I stole this from Kathleen's Journal. It serves as tangible evidence that I am an insomniac procrastinator. Love it.

 

I am not: one to take things lightly.

I hurt: therefore I am.
I love: to the best of my ability.

I hate: cleaning bathrooms at work.
I fear: falling in love.
I hope: to change the world.
I hear: myself giving the inaugural address.
I crave: life.
I regret: wasting so much time.

I cry: everytime I watch Oprah.
I care: about not caring.
I always: lock my doors when I get in my car. 

I long to: create, explore and discover.
I feel alone: in the most crowded of rooms.

I listen: but hear nothing.

I hide: from myself.
I drive: like a Grandma.

I sing: better than Ashlee.

I dance: when I get drunk at my Grandma's racist country club.

I write: because it is my sacred duty to write all of this stuff down.

I breathe: to stay alive in order to make everyone else less miserable.

I play: guitar.
I miss: sunshine.
I feel: meloncholy.
I know:  all the wrong things to say.
I say: My brilliance sometimes suprises me.
I search: for that moment of lucidity.

I learn: how to feign sanity.
I succeed: whose Ceed? And why would I suc him?
I fail: at understanding the drivers of cars with "Scrapbooker on Board" magnets on the back.

I dream: of a boy I once knew.

I sleep: in the middle of the bed.
I wonder: bread, take you, Aunt Jemima...to be the most creative sentence I've ever conjured up.
I want: to be Journal Queen.
I worry: that I will be the crazy lady at the end of the street.
I have: a huge appetite.

I give: up easily.

I fight: but never win.
I wait: for opportunity to ring my doorbell.
I need: to never be bothered by the outside world.

I am: very cold.
I think: that we all have some degree of mental illness.

I cant help the fact that: I am so fabulous, I pee glitter.

I stay: on for one more ride.