Write In Color

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books.Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at…

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Food and Bras

So I was just having a video chat with an old friend and I was trying to explain to him how sometimes crumbs and random bits of food fall into my bra when I’m eating cause I don’t know how to eat sometimes and out of my mouth actually came the words, “I take off my bra and food falls out.” It wasn’t until I said it that I realized how crazy it sounded and I couldn’t stop laughing!! Doug, you always make me laugh, even if I’m laughing at myself.

Just plain irritated tonight. I am really sick of how sex filled this world has become. What happened to privacy, and being reserved with the intimacy you share with another. Why must this whole “sex sells” cliche still exist? I am sick of being looked at like just another toy, just another girl to try and lay and get something out of. I am not that girl, nor will I ever be!

I have been used, abused, and tossed aside by a few different people. After the first time I felt sorry for myself, but now that it’s happened multiple times.. I blame myself. I let it happen, no I am not the only one to blame because they built our ships on a sea of lies, but I still should have been stronger. I know I was smarter, but not nearly strong enough. Not nearly ready to stand up for myself the way I needed to.


I’m not just sick. I’m broken. A million pieces scattered across the plains. A million different thoughts, reasons, crushed dreams. Where to begin is not the most pressing question as of yet, it’s “when does it end?”