Like the Hunger Games, and I can't even. It's just... eunnhhhh. I'm like 37% finished and already I can feel the book boyfriend depression coming on and the pit of despair that follows such horrible amazing gloriousness.
Like how I have to eat, but stress stomach + food = poison and lots of sickness and me in a bad mood but less light-headed, I guess?
Like how all I do is work but I am running out of tv shows to watch on hulu and I have no food or time to go grocery shopping so I have been subsisting on vitamins mostly (my life is so hardddd.......)
I can't talk to my parents anymore about my feelings.
I have to go punch dance out my rage in a forest now. Like Kevin Bacon. In case you didn't get that reference...go watch Footloose. Either one will do really.
And I've been having a Matthew McCoijioeajaoifjiejh ...na hey... marathon with my roommate over the last several nights. Yes I like things after their time...
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