Cry cry, when there's something to cry about.

You know it must mean something when you finally forget one of the most important days of an average-teens life. The day you officially have your first boyfriend. I can't for the life of me remember what it is. I know it's in March. But I dunno if it's the 26th, the 27th, or the 28th. I think it's the 27th, but then I think back and maybe it isn't?

I honestly can hardly remember what it's like. We didn't do anything so out-of-the-ordinary that I remember. I remember certain events that SHOULDN'T be remembered. But really, those will fade too with time.

It amazes me still how subconciously affected I am today. For instance, I hardly use lotion anymore, it's down to about once a day. I used to use it upwards of five or six. And I can't use the White Cherry Blossom because when I smell it, I taste it, and it's not good, because it reminds me of things it shouldn't. I can't watch Monster House anymore, but I know now he was gonna break up with me the next day.

I think it's possibly when I'm alone that I go back to thoughts of regret and painful/wonderful memories. Which I believe is why I don't like to be left alone. Because it then leaves me with thoughts I don't want.

I've got a full weekend anyways. Hopefully that'll help.

I feel like making a collage. I only wish I had enough good magazines too. But I don't think we do. I'll ahve to scrounge around to see what I can find. I also want to read and write and plan and my mind's working overtime.

I'm all jumbly pretty much.

Hands up, cowboy.