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Friday, January 21, 2011


My lips are chapped.
My stomach, empty.
My eyes are black.

OH, LOOKAHAIKU! Jk. I can't write haiku's to save my life--It involves counting syllables, and that's one of my least favorite ways to write a poem.

Which also explains my epic failfulness at writing sonnets. I swear, Shakespeare was a god to be able to write all his shiz in iambic pentameter because every time I try to do it, everything I write comes out sounding like a very gag-worthy sixth grader trying to sound deep.

Speaking of poetry, Vignette meeting was yesterday and... Ugh. I love that place and those people, I really do, but the politics are starting to kill me!

People are starting to talk about each other behind their backs and since I'm "diplomatic" and like pretty much everybody, it's kinda getting to me.

I mean, there's an old saying about gossip. Something along the lines of "If people talk to you about other people, then they'll talk other people about you." And that makes me really paranoid. If people are saying such horrible things about each other to me, then what are they saying to each other about me?

Normally, this wouldn't matter so much, but these people are my friends, some of my very favorite people, so needless to say I'd be very hurt if they turned out to secretly hate me.

I don't know. Things like this just make me very paranoid. '-__-


Ugh... I feel like I'm a thousand years old. Like, I can literally feel the skin sagging beneath my eyes. Tisn't pleasant.
ily
~Belinda

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