today's one of those days i hate people, and they give me not one good reason to like them. i feel flu-ish, stuffy and hot and sickly, so that's not helping any. i read certain things, and obviously it's at my own will, but they disturb me, airing out a whore-ish quality to them. but hey, it's not my life and it's not my slutting around. enough with the floozy antics. it's starting to make me feel a bit loose myself.

today i also realized that i'm getting fat. i'm too small (heightwise) to be any bigger than i already am. it doesn't help that i eat like there's no tomorrow, but i really need to stop that.

i think i'm really happy about starting school again in the fall. i'm looking for any good excuse not to spend several hours (any more than 3, preferably) at the rink. hell, i'll even sell my appendix. i hear that thing's not for much good anyhow, except a good case of appendicitis.

i'm sure this diary gives off an aura of a troubled little girl, but it's really not so. it [diary] consumes most of my bad thoughts, the venting and screaming and things i wish i could say, but don't, and i'm quite thankful for it. yes, for most who do know me, i'm a sarcastically, bitter, but happy young lady who runs around life looking for the good times. i'm not depressed, i do not have issues, i just need some good people around me. i have a few, and i should spend more time with them. after 4-5 hours of work plus 3 hours of sitting on a baby, the small amount of energy i have left is used to get me home safely. i just don't have it in me to go out anymore. and i suppose that's more my fault than any other circumstance.

this diary does good things for me, and i appreciate it. such is the case for most inanimate objects though. too bad this thing couldn't talk. it would either say, "things will be okay," or, "fuck off, kristen."