Sick Again
I can't recall a September 22nd on which I've been more miserable. Wholly disheartened. Completely wraught with stress and unpleasant emotion. Sick as fuck.
The worst of it all, however, is the melancholy tone that these late entries have adopted. I really don't want to pain you with these simpering, self-deprecating, rambling woman-like articles, but I feel if I don't write about it, well it'll just be worse. But I digress.
Moving on, I've decided that my favorite frontman is Jim Morrison, and my least favorite is Zachary Allen. (Google him if you're not in the know). What a fat lump that kid is.
[I know this entry is 5 days late, but whatever.]
The worst of it all, however, is the melancholy tone that these late entries have adopted. I really don't want to pain you with these simpering, self-deprecating, rambling woman-like articles, but I feel if I don't write about it, well it'll just be worse. But I digress.
Moving on, I've decided that my favorite frontman is Jim Morrison, and my least favorite is Zachary Allen. (Google him if you're not in the know). What a fat lump that kid is.
[I know this entry is 5 days late, but whatever.]
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