Monday, March 28
This fucking movie has given me depression. I feel like a fucking emo kid who actually has depression and actually acknowledges that they're a fucking loser. I cried just twenty minutes into the movie. It went on full sobbing and stigmata action when Allie freaked and they had to inject shit into her. This is inhumane, torturing innocent lives. Oh man Mick Jagger is on TV. Now I am totally not ready to go back to school, because I bet just the slightest little thing would set me off and tears would start pouring like Old Faithful. Except that I would erupt every fifteen minutes, not every forty-five minutes.

Scariest fucking sight when I stepped in front of the mirror. It was Selma Blair from The Exorcist with a nasty red complexion. Snot was all over my sleeves, it looked like a clear sugar coating on my arms. Fucking wrecked, I say. Fucking scarred for life, man.

It was a good thing I watched it alone, for if my folks were there I'd fucking get the shit kicked out of me for being a crybaby. Seriously, how do these people make such touching movies? God, I don't know why the country isn't going through another Great Depression. One that not money could solve.

We also rented Garden State. Zach Braff did an amazing job as writer and director. I was surprised. There's not many movies that I find flawless and Garden State was one.

I'm thinking about copying the Notebook disc and seeing if I could survive watching it again. It's very risky, for I could soon be heading to the pharmacy for my prescription of Zoloft, or I could be walking around high and mighty wearing a t-shirt that says "I BEAT EMO."

One good thing that came of this is that saltwater is good for the skin. So with all the tears and shit dripping all over my face, it cleaned my face up pretty nicely the morning after. This could be a new acne solution. Watch The Notebook and a good portion of your skin is clear the next day.


Christina N. @ 2:44 PM