The Pig of Happiness is a good book;

I really don't think they like me anymore.
Thats a bit too presumptuous to say, but its the way I feel.
The worst part is that I'm the reason the summer has played out the way it has.
I need to clean my Goddamn room. I think I'll be happier once that actually gets accomplished. I want them to know I care.
I want to succeed.
I want to pursue my goals.
I need help.
I need money.
I need for the world to stop throwing hate parties.
If you are happier, we're all happier.
Lets get happy.
Please?
I love lucy episodes anyone? They cheer me up.
The constant emotional roller coaster ride, the chaotic stress and the hurting is all due to one girl's insanity.

It's actually quite ridiculous how absolutely different I have become. I know its true. How ironic. The girl who fears change more than death itself, has slowly triggered the metamorphosis effect. I hate to admit it myself, and I know anyone I talk to will deny it to my face but speak of it when I'm gone...I am slowly maturing and I'm not so sure I'm liking it. I don't know what to do anymore!

Ha! Yet again, I have this knack for writing ambiguous depression blogs. To those who do not know me or do not see me on a regular basis, I need for you to know that I am healthy ( for the most part), and extremely happy. It just so happens that I prefer to discus the sadder lonelier side of my feelings in a much more introverted way. I have too much happiness pent up inside of me all too often that comes out easily, yet somehow it never makes it to my fingertips or this keyboard. I apologize. I swear I am not a deranged lunatic.
Life is good and the Lord is great.
I'm just noticing my flaws lately and it hurts.
Some people point them out to me, thats always really nice...remembering your flaws and stuff. Great. NOT.


I'm made up of a lot of flaws, but I'm sticked together with good intentions.