Life.

I hate that my mother is trying desperately to continue to have a hold over my life even while I'm in college. She follows my other blog, which is why right now I'm running away to here. She's trying to convince me that I shouldn't get my ears pierced again, even though I want to and it's my choice and I know for a fact she wouldn't have said no when I was home over break. I know she would've been alright with it. Now she's trying to dissuade me with every fiber of her being. "It's too expensive up there." Not if I do it at the same place I did every other piercing on my ears. (I also thought for a minute about getting my nose pierced, but she would've killed me over that and I don't want that.) "It's just another distraction." No it's not. It's just another thing to add to my morning and bedtime routine that isn't long at all. "You can't donate blood for another six months." Honestly, I might not be able to find the time to donate blood for the next six months. That takes more time than sitting down and getting my ears pierced. Ultimately she said it was my decision (which it IS) and I still think I'm going to go through with it. If it turns out I don't like them, I can take them out and let them close up. It's not a big deal to me. I mean, I wanted to donate blood at some point this week, but it's already shaping up to be a cluster-fuck (my mom and dad are coming to drop off a bunch of my stuff on Monday afternoon) so we'll see how that goes. Honestly, I think I'll either go after debate prep this afternoon or I'll wait until tomorrow and do it then. But either way, I think they're getting done. I'm independent and I can do what I want to my body now. Ugh, wait 'til she hears when I get my tattoo.

I got my first anon hater on Tumblr today. That was a not-so-great experience. I feel like it was someone I knew before. And I don't know why that person would be anywhere near my blog at this point. I mean, really. I apologized to them for what I did. This person has no reason to be hating on me.

If I find out at some point tomorrow my aunt died, I don't know what I'll do. Honestly. I hope it wasn't her, but I don't know at this point. (It's my aunt on my dad's side, and my father's side of the family isn't the most...communicative, I suppose I could say.) Right now, I'm less than amused by everything.

I need to eat something. I haven't eaten a proper meal since Wednesday. I know I need to eat something, but I have no desire to. The entire idea of food right now is just disgusting to me. I can't even think about food. I think this is what shitty-ass food has done to me. Fucking Chartwells. I mean, really. Food on campus isn't that bad, but I just don't want something that's sub-par. I want a decent meal. Something I can actually enjoy eating rather than something that just settles at the bottom of my stomach like a weight. That's what Chartwells food does to me sometimes.

This isn't healthy, I know it's not. But I'm just...not hungry.

That Awkward Moment... from my first ever Thirsty Thursday excursion!

• ...when the boy you've been "seeing" is spying on you and your friends from a balcony. SKETCHBALL. Seriously. He really is a skeeze.
• ...when one of your friends (a gay boy, by the way) shoves a dollar bill in your bra and everyone sees.
• ...when you spot the guy you made out with at the party (the one that tried and failed to teach you how to dougie and to jerk) on the bus.
• ...when you make friends with random drunk guys on the bus (and will be going out with them on Friday night).
• ...when you come home and all you can taste is shitty beer, even though you've already brushed your teeth twice.
• ...when you smell like beer and stale cigarettes.
• ...when you're drunk after one and a third beers. (I didn't eat anything alllllll day, okay!) 

I say, Thirsty Thursday was pretty much a success.

I should've known that you were a skeeze this entire time. Like, really. I should've known you were a stupid, douchebag frat boy that doesn't even deserve my time. Why did I let you come into my life and possibly fuck it up?

Good God, I'm so stupid sometimes.

I only want to be with you.

I love coming home still smelling you on my skin. It just makes me so happy. I wish I could see you more often so I could keep smelling of you. I wish we were more than we are so I could keep  smelling like you.

I wanted to say something tonight, but it wasn't the time. You were kind of rushing me out so your roommate could come back, but it didn't quite matter. I mean, I know we're not the dating type. That's just not what we do. You're ashamed of me, really. I know you are. You wouldn't want to be seen with me because I'm not the kind of girl--pretty, size two really--that you'd like to be seen around. I'm not the girl floating around the frat parties with a red Solo cup full of beer in my hand. That's not how I roll. I'm more of the I watch movies on the weekends and enjoy an occasional vodka/Red Bull or Captain and Coke. I'm a little classier than just a keg of beer.

But, if there's one thing I wish, I wish we could go back to the days of the two-three times a week. I miss that. Once a week just doesn't do it for me anymore. I want to see you more. I really do. This could be ugly if I'm not careful. I need to stop wishing we were together, it's going to get ugly.

I offered him Thursday night, but of course, I was dumb, and didn't realized that it was "Thirsty Thursday" until after I'd already asked what he was doing. We'll have to see where this goes, I suppose...

Just a random note.

Sometimes I think you're such a skeeze and that I shouldn't even be giving you the time of day. And then you send me cute text messages that make me smile and I remember why we do what we do. "I love your hair down it looks so good." Why, thank you. I didn't realized you liked it that way. I thought you preferred it tied back. (Just in case I'm bringing a hairtie or two.) I'mma be prepared this trip.