Wednesday, August 31
I hate this urge to write something, but there's nothing to write about. So I just sit here going back and forth between the same five websites checking for updates. It's fucking lame, like I've lost half of my brain cells; I lost the half that's supposed to come up with ideas but kept the other half that has the enthusiasm to waste more time.

My mom's at work (for only three days), so I've got some time to spare before I'm under her doomful control. She sleeps on a certain side of the bed in her room, the side that's facing the door, to see if there's any light shining out of the bottom of my door at night - which means I'm awake and watching TV or on the computer. Then she would go up to my door, knock once, loudly and obnoxiously, as a sign of telling me to sleep. My immediate reaction is to turn off whatever I'm doing (only to wait until signs of movement in the hallway are clear and she has gone to bed, I turn it back on). Usually I don't know that she's there so it scares the shit out of me and I jump. And if it's the wrong day, I get pretty fucking pissed off because for some reason at night I like to be online, and there's also much, much better television on, other than porn. We don't have that kind of cable. I think once when she knocked on my door on the wrong day, I almost cried because I was watching something important. Talk about a fucking spoiled piece of shit. Or maybe it's just because it's at night and that's when I'm acting all weird and my mind fucks with itself.

Yeah, having it's own little self orgy in my head. Rubbing its wrinklyness against itself. Like bubblegum being grinded between the two layers of teeth in somebody's mouth. Nice and gooey.


Christina N. @ 11:53 PM