I have issues. I know that I have issues. You, having read any part of my journal, know that I have issues.

But really, I mean, really.

No. Really.

One of these days I'm gonna pack up my shit and leave. It's going to happen except that it absolutely one hundred percent will not because I am a chicken and freakishly attached to my mother. Still. It's nice to dream.


So. Well. I am in love with the internet. And Rusty Ryan. Because I'm a special kind of masochist. Always inanimate objects and fictional characters. They never love me back, either, but maybe that's their appeal...


::snorts::

I have no point. I'm just procrastination in human form or something. I thought about doing an essay on procrastination, but that seemed like it was maybe going a little bit far. :p