MP Shorty? Peppy B?

I have eaten an abnormally large amount of junk food today. For some reason, only junk food sounds appealing, and everything else makes me want to barf up everything in the inner systems of my body. Also, I am constantly tired and hungry, which is not a good combination, especially when I can't sleep, so I've just eaten. A lot.

Other than that, I'm good.
My nose is scabby, however.

Ah, I'm proud of you and your honors self. How is your schedule? Since you know we have Algebra together, I assume that we have it today, and I know that I also have History and Latin on A days, which, together, could be quite overwhelming.

I had a dream about a pet store last night. There were fish involved. And pie? Or cake? I don't remember.

I am sorry that you didn't take that comparison as a compliment. Sure, you're kind of scrawny, but I have never noticed you having strange ears, so I think you're safe. I bet he is an adorable cat, really. I'm glad you don't have to continue on with sports names. That would be awful.

Sure, there are things people can do to make others not like you. If you killed someone for no reason, Abby, I would probably not be your biggest fan. Though there usually seems to be some sort of reason when people do not-so-good things.

My father does not think you are stupid. He said you are rather smart and was impressed with your knowledge of literature. He is just unsure because he isn't a big fan of artists in general. But, he's an accountant, so what can you do? He doesn't mean half of the negative things he says about Herron, or he does mean them, but he has no clue, really.

My cello temporarily died.

Abby, you cannot force me to be happy, just as I cannot force you to eat or enjoy life at the moment. I'll read you a story, okay? I'll make you spaghetti, I'll give you a head rub, and I'll say "I love you, too" instead of "thanks" when you say, "I love you." So, YOU be happy. The world is glorious. Think of leaves. And warm rain. And laying on the hot driveway in summer after it has soaked up the sun's heat (this is one of my favorite things ever, but no one shares this love). Good times. "We've got a lot, don't ever forget that." BAM! Smashed with your own lyrics! And Margot isn't sounding like she's got a lot, really, in this song. I mean, snorting crack in the bathroom while her boyfriend picks up chicks? She's hanging from a rope, actually. And yet, she still remembers (or should remember) that she's got a lot. Good ol' Margot. She's always got her nuclear so-and-so's.

Not everyone leaves, Abigail, and I really wish you could smoosh this tidbit of information into your overworking brain.

The definition of love in the dictionary nearest to me is one of the longest I have ever seen. I think it is like on a test, when you don't know the answer, so you go on and on and on about things you are unsure about, hoping to sound smarter, or wishing that somewhere in that lengthy explanation sits the answer, waiting to be read. And, boy do these definitions vary. Woah.
1.a. An intense affection for another person based on familial or personal ties.
1b. A strong affection for or attachment to another person based on regard or shared experiences or interests.
2. An expression of one's affection.
3.a. An intense attraction to another person based largely on sexual desire.
3.b. The deep affection, tenderness, and concern felt for a person with whom one has or wishes to have a relationship based on sexual attraction.
5. (I skipped some) And intense emotional attachment, as for a pet or treasured object.
6. A strong enthusiasm.
10. A zero score in tennis.

Okay. Never does it ever say how to achieve this, what to do when achieved, and how to tell whether or not love is real.

Sidetracked. Who knew that the planet Venus in its appearance as the morning star is called Lucifer? Not I.

Dictionaries are so strange.

I wish I had the ability to be more forgiving. To not automatically judge people for their pasts or their presents. To accept and not show any disgust or disapproval. People who back out that easily on a single flaw, or even multiple flaws, don't love you. Or maybe they did believe they loved you, and you thought they loved you, but they couldn't love the real you, past and all, because you didn't make it apparant, and now that it is out, you are a different person in their eyes, and they don't feel like starting over and loving someone else. They just want YOU back, the one they knew. They want the one they loved back. So they could love you, and they could really, really, extremely want to love you, but you don't exist any more. Not the you they had "an intense affection for based on familial or personal ties" for, but this new you, which is really the old you.

"Christ!" The Ragpicker shouted, shielding her eyes from the unbelievable bright sun and awakening the Ticketmaster, who sat up slowly, aching for more sleep now that she had finally achieved some. "What?" She said, lowering herself back down, unfazed by the blaring rays of yellow. At this the Ragpicker laughed and looked down at the vibrating phone next to them, knowing it was the Ticketmaster's before even glancing down because of that recognizable and constant noise it released. "Running out of battery." She said, and opened it to check the time. Her own face, though several years younger, smiled up at her. "Really?" She asked, and the Ticketmaster grabbed the phone, a definite red creeping up her cheeks.

Pet Peeves
1. Mispelling "your" and "you're". Drives me insane. It shouldn't. I am not english teacher. Still, I always want to edit this on people's papers.
2. Drugs. Really. I try to be sympathetic with most things. Understanding, maybe. Be drugs, I just cannot understand. I try to read about people overcoming addictions and stuff, to better my understanding I guess, but I can never feel sorry for the person. That movie we watched at Stephanie's bugged me to no end. And yet, I still cried, which was weird, because I didn't like any of the characters.
3. When people flip their eyelids inside out. Creepy. Uncomfortable.

How has your day been? Not well, it seems. I guess I can call you, since you won't call me. Loser.
Oh.
A blanket.
Finally.