The seemingly endless amounts of snow are beginning to get on my nerves.
At this rate, the class of 2011 will never graduate.
My days with you have been getting soo much better.
You make me happy when I'm upset, but you also know how to piss me off.
I sometimes get really hard on myself, because I'm not as pretty as those "friends."
Things will be different, starting tomorrow.
I want to be tan, I hate how pale I am.
I also hate my smile, my cheeks, and my chin.
Life would be easier if we all looked the same but had different personalities.
"So when this is over, don't blow your composer baby."
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
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