Well... Ahem.

1. I feel like I can't be inspired anymore. I often find that when I am depressed, some of the most intriguing things come into my head. Like, I can only be creative if I want to die. How the hell does that make sense? Is this my body's way of saying that if I'm going to be successful in this world I can't ever be happy? What the fuck. I just can't win, can't I? But I also can't make progress by complaining, either. But happiness is something that every human being is entitled to, whether we want it or not. And believe me, I want it. But I also want to keep my creative abilities.

2. Big butt. No tits. Weird shaped fingers. Slut. Hairy. Fucked up in the head. Misunderstood. Melodramatic. Or so I've been told...

3. I want to amount to something greater than I am. When I see famous people, people that have it made, people that DO things with their live, I am filled to the brim with envy. I want to be better than a shitty, sheltered girl from a hick town in the middle of Washington state. I want to impact the world. And I plan on doing it. But in order to make a difference in this world, a person needs two things: Courage, and lots and lots and lots of money, neither of which I have. Acquiring the courage will be the easier of the two, I think. After I die, I want to be known for something good. I want to make people think. I want to be selfless. I want to show people how unique I am. I want to put aside all my prejudices and see the world as it is. Explore. Discover. Masturbate. (JK). Life is what you make of it. Yes, life hands you shit. You can either smear that shit all over yourself, and wallow in self-pity, or you can show that shit who's boss. Take opportunities as they come, and learn your lessons.

4. And that's all I have to say about that.