Burton

(no subject)

Dear C,

I like you for you. Unlike 99.3% of every other girl you meet I started liking you before anyone ever told me about your snowboarding career. Therefore when you get shy and start acting like a jerk and try to impress me by naming off the competitions you've won and who you've shot with I don't get impressed. I like you because you're a funny, witty, smart guy with more good looks and red hair than you know what to do with.
We're not fifteen anymore, I won't pretend I like you and then run away to make out with someone else.
If you got ridiculously hurt tomorrow and could never snowboard again I wouldn't stop liking you.
But lets hope you odn't get hurt because I don't think anybody could live with you if you weren't able to snowboard, you get kind of antsy.
Seriously, realize this and stop being a jerk.

K.
Burton

(no subject)

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next three sentences in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one; pick the CLOSEST.

On The Road
Jack Kerouac

And he turned slowly to me, opened his mouth, and said, "Mon-ta-na."
    Finally there were Mississippi Gene and his charge. Mississippi Gene was a little dark guy who rode freight trains around the country, a thirty-year-old hobo but with a youthful looks so you couldn't tell exactly what age he was.
Burton

(no subject)

J:
I've lived in this city for 5 1/2 years ..
K:
and I'm glad you have
J:
I don't know if I'll make 6 years
K:
where would you go? I'll miss you like crazy when you leave
J:
you could always come
K:
I could, depends on where and when
J:
we could run away
K:
I would
J:
what's keeping you here?
K:
I don't know anymore
J:
interesting..
J:
I say we each save up like 5k and just jet
K:
I think I'm in
Burton

(no subject)

Dani

Out of all the people I've ever met you've influenced me the most. It took five minutes for us to become best friends, we went from "you're doing the poetry reading too?!?" to "so, this one time I was sleeping with this guy" in one afternoon.
 You never took any of my piss poor excuses, you taught me that being afraid is stupid.  You taught me nothing is worth being unhappy for, that what other people think should never matter and that few things in life are funner than 3 am drunken snowball fights in the middle of a street.
 You're the first person I've been drunk with, the first person I've been high with, the first person I've told everything to and the first girl I ever kissed. We wrote our Brit Lit 2 essays while drinking double shots of cherry brandy from coffee mugs. When J took us to drop them off before a party he found both of us collapsed in the snow laughing at the stars and reciting Macbeth.
 You have so much more guts than I do, you kissed J square on the mouth without even thinking about it, you're the one who pushed me to not be shy with him, to not be afraid of how gorgeous he was. You made me and J best friends.
      Sitting up in your apartment reading Keats and Shelley and Byron while drinking bad wine, smoking pot and watching our Shakespeare classes on a crappy internet connection are things I hope I remember forever. When I think of you I'll always think of what being 21 felt like. How you made my life seem like stuff I'd only write about before.

Seriously, I can't even begin to tell you how you've changed me.
You made me tougher, and I'm grateful.
love.
K.
Burton

(no subject)

low cut jeans should not cause a panic attack

I don't know how I'll get through tonight.

I'm scared of what the people shopping will think of me, how am I suppose to sell clothes when I look disgusting in them. I can't, I can't I just god. fuck it.

I just want to not care, I just want to believe that I look good.

I'm tired of changing clothes.

I just want to crawl into bed.
Burton

(no subject)

I have no plans for September

I feel like I'm on the edge of something.

I know I need help, but I'd rather keep tripping and fucking up and hiding away

I don't know who I am anymore, I feel fake all the time because I don't know what it's like to be real anymore. I lie all the time about everything.

I starve, I binge,  I throw up, sometimes I eat normally. I feel fat all the time. People tease me for checking out other girls when really I'm just staring at them trying to see if I'm thinner or fatter than they are (I'm usually always fatter).

I don't write anymore.

I'm the world's shittiest vegan, I have the most hypocritical morals and standards ever. For someone who's pretty smart I act pretty stupid most of the time. My self confidence is at zero, it's worst when I'm at work. I trip over my words and I trip over my shoes and I don't go out because there might be food and people probably don't want me there anyways.

It takes me an hour to dress in the morning, I change clothes about five times... Alternate, switch shirts, switch jeans, switch underwear, switch hoodie and stare i nthe mirror decide what enhances the fat and my hips and switch, and again. It's exhausting... I leave home ashamed. Most of the time I'dr ather not go outside.

But I do, and I put on a smile and I show up at the skateshop and act tough and happy and make sarcastic comments and flirt and pretend that nothing's wrong.

I hate it.

And I can't imagine the future anymore.

I'm pathetic.