dress up: Aug. 06, 2002 (9:21 pm)

i wake up at around four twenty (am)and i think if getting my wisdom teeth pulled out, 'love is just an excuse to get hurt', this teenage love obsesion with my punk rock rebel idea boy and how much they all change when they kiss. but i trust he wouldn't. i trust he wouln't. i trust him. (why) just give me time and it may happen.

not poetic but i just want to say that in the middle of the night i just think about the things i don't have anymore.

i look at my hands forming chords. what am i supposed to say about that scar. when can i mention it. can i. can i. can i.

i mess everything up by making too much up.

playing dress up.

but just give me time (i hope).

what is beautiful about me? i can't remember as a turn into baudrillard. i hate not living. but what can i do? so it goes.

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