"There is little more brave than a honest, personal blogger with no apologies." -Dori.

Had to bring that back. Though I think this may count as an apology, a lot of this is my period talking, so you can overlook the stuff that's just excessively depressing. I probably won't mean it next week.

I want somebody to touch me. And I'm beyond sick of people who can't. Like, do you know how long it's been since I've been touched, by someone outside of my family, in any way other than the platonic? Months. Five of them, actually. Almost exactly. It was October 30th, 2008. Bruce. Ladera Park, CA. I hated it, honestly. He gave me a fucking hickey. I hate hickeys so much. Actually, he gave me too, && then I had to go hide them shits so people wouldn't think I was attacked by a fucking vampire. Though, if I'd played it up, I probably could've pulled it off, ya know, with Halloween the next day. I got off track there for a second.

I'm a physical person. I need a fucking hug. And I need somebody to touch me. Just for the pleasure of touching me. Whatever happened to that? I honestly want to cry right now. Don't tell me that shit's ridiculous, I know, thank you. I'm allowed to be a little ridiculous right now. I'm in pain and I'm tired and I'm irrational and I'm out of fucking cookies, so don't fuck with me, alright?

smh @ me.

I'm done talking. I'ma go curl up in bed with Walter, the only man (kinda) who's never let me down.

Till next time: all that shit I normally say, but at the moment, can't bring myself to mean.