i can't help it if i heard parachute toes. maybe he just sucks as a musician. goddamn prada. now, moving on to more important things in the little world of kristen...

sometimes i read other people's diaries. some of them are really sad, in a "feeling bad for themselves"/"that's a shitty thing" way. certain reads make me think of different times in my life where i felt like that. and i guess it just makes me feel better to know that i'm a hair on top of the game, and i'm scraping by with what little knowledge i've gained in the past few years. most of the time i just wish i could help someone else out.

i like to sit by the vents in our house until my skin is cold. that way, curling up in bed is that much better, because it's super warm under the covers.

i'll close my eyes, think of you, and breathe. you won't be gone until i see light again.

all the nights spent alone in my car, all the purple skies and starless nights, all the fog that gathers around the lights, will not bring him back because he is far.