I was thinking that I might fly today

I'm a sensitive girl and it has taken almost nineteen years to figure it out, or at least admit it. I guess I admit it with pride and sincerity. But let's examine the term sensitive. I don't mean that I cry at little things like a pretty sunset or a sappy hallmark commercial; fuck that shit. I mean sensitive in the way that I bruise easily with thing that happen in my life, ya know? I always thought that I had a thick skin because I didn't wear my heart on my sleeve and show affection or emotions to anyone. But I have black and blues all over my body from where death and life and everything in between has hurt me. I suppose it's normal to bear scars from traumatic events, and sometimes you're not lucky enough to have scars; some wounds never heal fully and a little bandaid must be kept on it because it bleeds too often. But whatever. I'm fragile. I may not show it on the outside (I'm good at pretending) but words hurt, as do actions, and over time they cause pain. And it all just builds and builds. Then I cry and become the weakling that I hate. I don't cry in front of others because that's being vulnerable and a part of me feels like I'm supposed to be strong for everyone. I'm depended on way too much by friends and family to plaster on a smile and give advice at the drop of a fucking hat. And I dont mind being the nurturer because I like taking care of people and giving advice, but sometimes I have to curl up in a ball and cry under the blanket. I dont know what I'm saying anymore, actually. I'm too busy having fun with the Across the Universe soundtrack and I'm singing and tapping my foot; I can't be serious about being sad and sensitive when I'm doing fun stuff. Shwatevs. lalaalalalala...

I think I still smell like cigarettes. Keri's friends light up every three seconds, so I was dripping in sweat from dancing lots and dripping in cigarette smoke. I dont mind because they're all chill and the guys love to hit on me by offering me cigarettes. haha. It was a good time; too bad I don't smoke. But I do love to grind with Karen on the living room floor. Oh yesh. Oh yesh. Let's just say if there was a fire alarm in that house, it would have went off by the third or fourth song and fingers would have been pointed at Ms. Noyes and myself. But the party was great because I haven't danced to good music in a long time. And the whiskey was good too. Duh.

I haven't eaten yet. I should do that.

There's much more I want to discuss, but as of now...I'll chill out. I gotta go get me grub (alliteration).

Peace.

Boy, you been a naughty girl you let your knickers down.