2000-10-01 - - 02:41:10
Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody.
I can't move from my door to my bed without knocking haphazardly stacked books over. Everyone is understandably tired of dealing my stuff cluttering up the place, so I moved it all back into my room. Good news - my bruise collection is growing!
Tonight J and I were going to go and see It Came from Outer Space in 3-D, but we have lost our steam. It takes a lot to get me moving these days.
When I got out of the shower, I obediently put vitamin E stuff on the stupid dogbite scar just like I always do. I think my stubborn denial has gone on long enough. I'm going to have this scar for the rest of my fucking life. A scar, from that stupid dog's drooling mouth. It's mostly on my chest, but my boob didn't even escape unscathed. The big part is right on my collarbone which shows out of everything I wear. It irritates me so much; everytime I look down I think of that butt-ugly dog who tried to gnaw his way into my throat.
I miss just having normal skin there.
I think I've whined enough.
Why, if every light is dark, do I continue dancing?