whoever invented solitaire was a sad, sad person.
whoever plays it is a sad, sad soul.
but playing it while listening to new kids on the block is satisfying enough.
it's so sad to think about how i had it good for awhile. and then i grew up.
i want: naivete. to be loved. true friends within the vicinity of santa barbara. pot. (oh god, what would i give to be stoned right now.) to cry. to dance. to feel like i can be my misfit self and be accepted and have people think, "that morgan..." instead of "that freak...". a boy to come up to my room and say, "hey, you cool?" and i'll say, "HELL YEAH." my roommate to be cool. to know who here smokes pot. happiness, in general. to be comfortable, mentally. a car. this migraine to go away. to not have an addiction to ibuprofin (pot helped that).
i look cute tonight. i should be out partying. alas, i am not. maybe i'll go knock on kendall and alyson's door and ask if they want to do something tonight.
but i probably won't.