This Doesn't Happen to Normal People

But what DOES happen to normal people? Email: iamthecoloursapphire@yahoo.com

Friday, April 25, 2003

And fucking A, I've got less than a month left here. Less than a month with internet access and a phone. Less than a month, and I LOVE it here. Less than a month till I get to live in the middle of a fucking swamp all by myself. I thought I wasn't supposed to BE alone anymore. And I'm not. I'm really not. *sigh*
Oh, and I HATE my hair, I HATE my template, I HATE my body and there's nothing I can do about any goddamned part of it.
And another thing-fuck it, since I can't sleep I might as well update my neglected blog-I had an appointment with my therapist today. Guess what we talked about? That's wrong. No, guess again. Uh-uh. Damn, you really suck at this game. Okay, I give. We talked about my kleptomania. And how I'm proud of it. And ya know what? Fuck YEAH I'm proud of it. I'm GOOD at it, I get free stuff that would otherwise be expensive as all hell, and I save myself the trouble of having to deal with any of the morons who run these shitty places. Oh, and today I ALMOST stole a diamond. A real, whole carrat diamond. I didn't-not because I would've gotten caught, I wouldn't have-but because what the HELL would I do with it? Anyway, what my therapist said was that maybe I should challenge myself to NOT do it even when I have the opportunity to do so. I thought about that today. Too bad I didn't think of it in any kind of realistic setting whatsoever. I'm sorry, I've been doing this shit all my life. I've never gotten caught, and I never will. And hell, even if I DO, I have no record. What'll I get? A slap on the wrist and a 'naughty, bad girl, don't do that again'. Yeah, I'm TERRIFIED of consequences.
Okay, I'm sick of typing. Time to go stare at the fucking walls and pretend I'm not upset.
Laters