"being able to survive it doesn't mean that it was ever okay"
that's my thought of the day. i don't feel like writing, i don't feel like talking - there's nothing left to say. i think that this, right here and now, is the end of a lot of my relationships. and the start of many new ones. i can't see myself moving forward at the moment if i stay where i am, and though it hurts to say goodbye, i don't think that i have a choice anymore.
take that as you will.
jess;; eighteen. ib graduate. chronic sufferer of writer's block. french speaker. physics geek.
lame to the log base e of thirty seven. often uses math to express the quantity of a certain emotion. or her sarcasm.
or her decrease in iq in relation to spending time with her friends. mostly the latter. and where math fails,
she writes poetry. because it's kind of hard to express unrequited lust and emotion in general in
terms of math. although, life is rather like a sine graph, and how high you get is dependent on the dilation parallel
to the x axis which can be determined by your life experiences...but jess doesn't think she's a nerd. she doesn't
study enough. speaks often in the third person. thinks too much for her own good. listens to the same song
one hundred times on repeat. because listening to a depressing song once just isn't enough. queen of innuendo. insane.
wannabe psychiatrist. she thinks. honestly, she has no clue what she wants to do with her life. has feminist
tendencies. Christian. loves australian football. peter wentz's guitar. toby rand's tambourine. loves singing but
can't hold a note. so, instead, she loves her singers. and nice eyes. addictive personality, permanently worried
about something. also permanently on guilt trips. because she's very good at that. generally changes her mind thirty
seven times. daughter of overprotective parents. happy emo. the jesster. loves
lyrics more than music. would describe her life with the lyrics to self-conclusion by the spill canvas. is sandra's
sexy bitch. solitaire slut. moody cow. has crazy-ass friends. is slowly working on a manuscript. normally the former.
chocoholic. creative.
sketches all the time. when she's not writing. is bringing
sexy back. wants to live in paris. in the chateau du versailles. and ride a moped. has spent two nights in paris.
seems to always be involved in love triangles, or friendship triangles, or something that requires her to stay up at
night worrying because she freaks out that it's her fault. which is a little irrational. coincidentally, that's her
middle name. attention whore. loves musicals and acting. writes poetry whenever she's
emotional and always starts crying. always. is obsessed with snape and the sex god that is alan rickman. hates
showing weakness. loves aladdin. instinctively answers in french. gives objects unoriginal names. such as
monsieur vache for her cow wrist pad. actually names and talks to inanimate objects. has a twin. in fact,
she has many twins. questions
sincerity by the minute. always needs sleep. hopeless romantic. procrastinator. overuses asterisks in msn
conversations. narcissist. writes when she's emotional. loves hugs and being held. is a sentimental sort of person.
pretty sure she thinks too much. believes that eyes are the window to the soul. stubborn. is pretty much insane, but
life is too short to waste being angry. even when some deserve it. has the most
amazing friends in the world. is going to be a famous playwright, just you wait.
"being able to survive it doesn't mean that it was ever okay"
that's my thought of the day. i don't feel like writing, i don't feel like talking - there's nothing left to say. i think that this, right here and now, is the end of a lot of my relationships. and the start of many new ones. i can't see myself moving forward at the moment if i stay where i am, and though it hurts to say goodbye, i don't think that i have a choice anymore.
take that as you will.
