i just finished reading the bluest eye.

it has been a really long time since i finished reading a book. it seems like i always pick long books so i can get to the last 40 pages and then stop putting it in my purse because the only time i ever really read is when i want to avoid making eyecontact with people. short books scare me. because i will finish them. i like having books but i don't like reading them because i don't want them to die.

i hate finishing books because eventually they end and even if the rest of the book was horrifyingly awful, it all comes together in the end, didactic and poignant, and you love it so much after hating it for so long

and then it stops forever. you could read it again but there's no point. it will just end again and the surprises won't be there, because now you know what to look for.

maybe i am just too dependent on the same things to always be there when i need them. i already know i'm stupid.

i hate expiration dates.
and jolly ranchers.

getting ready to take the AP Lit test
your biggest concern shouldn't be
"what cuff should i wear-- dinosaurs or space invaders??"


fuck it i aint goin to college no wayz

i am boycotting pants. who's with me.

today i was thinking of telling harold how cool he'd be if he was a human

and after some reflection i thought:
"harold if you were a human you would be like forest whitaker but with a little white hitler 'stache and would go around reciting 'hamlet' all day and being laid back and generally admired by everyone."
and after some additional reflection on that statement i thought:
"harold if you were a human you would be too awesome to exist. that is why god made you a rabbit."

we all know that if charlie was a person he would be a crackhead or a serial killer or both.
a very dangerous character. that might be why he is a rabbit and not a human. i imagine it is difficult to murder very many people when you are two-and-a-half pounds and your face is so fluffy that it impairs your vision.

they both have little white mustaches. they are classy gentlemen.

today i realised that the two literary figures that i most identify with are marla singer and ophelia.

and my first thought should have been "i am a crazy ass bitch" but instead it was "why i am only secondary?"

today was cinnamon rolls, crying, beer, five rolls of film, looking like a douche bag, tom sellectomy, and headaches. in that order.

a balance of pretty awesome/horrifyingly awful.

idk idk idk idc