Halo Top Ice Cream is Not That Bad, Though Not Good
I'm eating ice cream with a fork like a savage. It's something that my father used to do when I was younger. He did it by choice. I just have no way of cleaning a spoon while my combination washer/dryer is running. Not without making my clothes smell like kitchen drain.
Saying I do anything like a savage is probably so offensive. I don't know what a non-offensive metaphor would be. I should strive to find one since I know better.
The taste of the ice cream is marred by the unnatural feeling of the cold cream around the tines. I had to look up that word. I don't know the parts of a fork on my own. I'm an uncultured wretch. I also learned the word brux this week. I brux often in my sleep. I've bruxed often during the waking hours. It's about grinding your teeth. Or maybe not. My memory is pretty bad.
I wonder if Stosbet still reads my blog and how long that will last. I would assume not much longer if so, because they're supposed to finally be over, after ruining something new...but who can say? We all internet stalk here.
I'm trying out dating again, but not really. I'm trying out conversations with strangers that often don't go past the first question. I'm kind of content with that. I like matching handsomer people than Myex and then being ignored by them because I was likely a quick swipe because of the white wig in my first picture. It's a great picture. I'm beautiful. I'm not often beautiful in pictures. I don't find myself often beautiful in real life...except when I study my face. I've always liked my eyes. So it's nice to feel wanted by people more interesting, more attractive and more successful. To never go past the point of mutual objectification. It's nice not to truly connect.
I'm learning, despite the protestations of Myex, that I am quite the boring person. That I've settled in and lost some of the impetuous ambition of youth. I am quite fine with the idea now that this might be as far as things go. I might never have a fully developed thought. I'll record snippets of songs I share with friends and never sing again. I'll tell the internet stories of a youthful heartbreak in my youthless body. I'll eat ice cream sitting on the floor in my flat with a fork.
I have a little over 6 hours to finish my French homework and an essay for my Classical Mythology mid-term. I am fine. My meds are kicking in again so I wrote a snippet of a song and sent it to my friends.
Saying I do anything like a savage is probably so offensive. I don't know what a non-offensive metaphor would be. I should strive to find one since I know better.
The taste of the ice cream is marred by the unnatural feeling of the cold cream around the tines. I had to look up that word. I don't know the parts of a fork on my own. I'm an uncultured wretch. I also learned the word brux this week. I brux often in my sleep. I've bruxed often during the waking hours. It's about grinding your teeth. Or maybe not. My memory is pretty bad.
I wonder if Stosbet still reads my blog and how long that will last. I would assume not much longer if so, because they're supposed to finally be over, after ruining something new...but who can say? We all internet stalk here.
I'm trying out dating again, but not really. I'm trying out conversations with strangers that often don't go past the first question. I'm kind of content with that. I like matching handsomer people than Myex and then being ignored by them because I was likely a quick swipe because of the white wig in my first picture. It's a great picture. I'm beautiful. I'm not often beautiful in pictures. I don't find myself often beautiful in real life...except when I study my face. I've always liked my eyes. So it's nice to feel wanted by people more interesting, more attractive and more successful. To never go past the point of mutual objectification. It's nice not to truly connect.
I'm learning, despite the protestations of Myex, that I am quite the boring person. That I've settled in and lost some of the impetuous ambition of youth. I am quite fine with the idea now that this might be as far as things go. I might never have a fully developed thought. I'll record snippets of songs I share with friends and never sing again. I'll tell the internet stories of a youthful heartbreak in my youthless body. I'll eat ice cream sitting on the floor in my flat with a fork.
I have a little over 6 hours to finish my French homework and an essay for my Classical Mythology mid-term. I am fine. My meds are kicking in again so I wrote a snippet of a song and sent it to my friends.
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