Scribbles and rants.

I wonder what its like on the other side. The side that settles, that is just happy to be where they are.

I’m so tired. I’m going to cry, it’ll freak everyone out but at least that is what girls are supposed to do. Look up at the glass ceiling, down at the picket fence, and keep beating the wall.

Stolen glances and a desperate attempt not to fall. Is this who I am now?

There is a bite sized hole in my heart, like someone took a chunk out.

Picking up a scent… oh yes. Utter bullshit.

There are expectations. You will fall short of them before we even begin.

The social network and the batman misogynist.

50 years of homemaker advertising, what has changed?

I’ll be one tough act to follow.

Cool? Childish? Dangerous?


Sleep, sleep, sleep.

My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die?

This is the sum of what is scribbled in my notebook, I do not know what some of it means.



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