thought she was james dean for a day (call it!)
09 March 2003 at 12:05 am

am listening to nonangry modest mouse and lou reed and leonard cohen and jeff buckely and am stoooooooooooooooooooned just chillin.

have officially lost 5 pounds since last week. "night and day!" says michelle of my appearance. "best diet ever!" says the anorexic inside of me. "fuck this, feed me!" says my tummy. "no, fuck YOU, i'm depressed and ugly!" says my head.

must maintain weight lost until at least next weekend when shopping with mum.

have found new rooney songs and am SO FUCKING SAD i missed them when they played with the donnas and okgo.

written a coupla days ago [creative me is gone, can only write about one thing now: fuck you again]:

//i loved you, baby. i gave you everything thinking maybe you'd give it all back like you promised. like you promised i was different and "us" was different and you wouldn't treat me like all your other girls, you never want to hurt me, you love me.

you lied.

you lied and now you love me, you're sorry, you'll make up for it like you'll make up for all the money you spent. You'll never drink again because that's the problem, baby, it's not me, it's my addiction but you can't quit if you don't have me and there's nothing without me and you won't let me go because we love each other too much and i try to leave and you hold me tight and you won't let me go, physically and emotionally, and you cry, oh how you cry, those desperate eyes, those terrified tears, and you make a fool of me again, shame on me. I tell you to let me go if you love me, you say you want to help, let me go or tell me none of this is real. It took all my strength to fall in love with you and I don't have any left to leave you and if you knew what was good for me you'd leave me to pick up the pieces. You say you're nothing without me, what were you before me, you say you'll die without me, you hold a knife to your cold, bitter heart as you watch me carve your lies into my arm. don't do this to me.

i want you to stop drinking because i want you to do what my father and your father couldn't. i want you to prove that there is a reason i loved you.

i loved you.//

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.